Chapter Forty-Three: Campaign Against the Yellow Turbans (Part Five)

Liu Bei dared not be negligent; he promptly stepped forward, clasping his hands to introduce Guan and Zhang to Sun Meng.

“You are quite fortunate,” Lu Zhi said, “It is already late. You three brothers should return and rest for now. All provisions, take as you need.”

Liu Bei had no intention of leaving so easily, but it was indeed late, so he gave his assent and departed with Guan and Zhang. Though somewhat unwilling, he knew this was a good beginning—so long as he remained in the camp, was there any fear of lacking merit?

Lu Zhi turned his gaze to Sun Meng. “Brother Sun, where did you previously cultivate? I have not heard of you before.” As a great scholar of the Han, Lu Zhi’s connections were vast; if a young master had appeared, unless he had always dwelled far from society—even among wandering martial artists—some word would have spread.

Sun Meng replied, “I have long trained in a secret mountain retreat. Now, as the leader of the Yellow Turbans seeks to defy Heaven, I felt compelled to descend and aid the Han in suppressing them, hoping a stroke of fortune may assist me in advancing further.”

Lu Zhi stroked his beard. “So that’s how it is! Your assistance is indeed welcome. However, Guangzong is now transformed into a magical array, gathering clouds automatically. Even for you, it will be difficult to achieve much.”

Sun Meng smiled. “If I were merely a martial master, perhaps I would have little recourse. But my greatest skill lies in archery.” With that, he revealed his manifestation.

Lu Zhi, possessing strong spiritual power himself, sensed at once that Sun Meng’s manifestation was extraordinary.

“What a divine bow!”

“May I ask—do you possess any secret arts capable of breaking the enemy’s formation?” Lu Zhi’s expression turned serious. If Sun Meng truly had the means, he could soon breach the enemy’s ranks and slay Zhang Jiao.

“Nothing special—simply that my arrows never miss.” Sun Meng replied, flashing a confident smile.

“Never miss? Are you saying you could shoot from here into the city and strike Zhang Jiao’s chest?” Lu Zhi laughed. Never missing is impressive for any martial artist—even one with spiritual prowess like himself could claim as much. Yet bow and arrow are disadvantaged in real combat, not only because of range, but also because they are easily sensed and intercepted. Whether by a warrior’s intuition or a scholar’s spiritual awareness, one can anticipate the arrow.

Sun Meng made a gesture as if drawing a bow. “Why not try and see? Through the north gate of Guangzong, the right corner’s great banner!” He condensed inner energy into form, convincing Lu Zhi of his strength.

The next moment, an arrow of inner energy flew forth. Sun Meng extended his hand. “Would you care to see the outcome, Brother Zigān?”

Lu Zhi glanced at Sun Meng, seeing no falsehood in his expression, and nodded. “Very well.”

Sun Meng grasped Lu Zhi’s right arm, and together they soared from the tent, though they stopped after only fifty meters. The suppression of clouds was still present, but at this height, both could clearly see the result.

A silver light pierced the great banner atop Guangzong’s city wall, destroying the character “Zhang.” The Yellow Turban soldier standing guard was dumbfounded—he had only heard a sound, and suddenly the banner was ruined!

In this era, the importance of a military banner rivaled that of the commander himself. In the chaos of battle, if troops saw their banner fall, morale would plummet, ending in rout. Thus, those assigned to watch the banner were not only more capable than regular soldiers but held higher status. Their responsibility was great.

Now, with the banner destroyed seemingly out of nowhere, he would surely be held accountable—perhaps even meet a nameless end.

Grief welled in his heart, and he broke into tears. His hand, which had gripped the banner’s pole, loosened.

Night descended, the cold wind whistling. With no one holding the banner, the wind—strangely, as if it had suddenly intensified—rushed through the tear in the flag.

Crack!

The pole broke.

Inside Guangzong, in the secret chamber where Zhang Jiao resided, he was about to complete the final step of his life-extending ritual when he suddenly sensed the Yellow Turban’s fortune leaking away. His spiritual power was at its lowest ebb. The backlash from the array and the secret art combined, forcing him to spit a mouthful of blood. What little remained of his lifespan dropped below the warning line.

The nine-section staff in his hand split into three segments, forming an array that desperately drew spiritual energy into him. Only when the staff turned to ashes did a flush return to Zhang Jiao’s face.

“So it is Heaven’s will. The Yellow Heaven must lie dormant, awaiting fate. In that case, let me leave a glimmer of hope for the Yellow Turbans.” Wiping the blood from his lips, he produced three jade scrolls.

“Master, oh master, you foresaw this outcome, didn’t you? Still, I will not leave these books to you! Humanity is destined to break free from Heaven’s control. Yellow Heaven’s secret arts, awakening fortune—go!” The three jade scrolls flew up, shone, and vanished.

“Heaven’s Mandate, Ghost Talent, Star-Gazing—these three secret arts are my legacy.” Having spoken, the flush faded from Zhang Jiao’s face, and he slumped to one side, only narrowly catching the lamp post. The sound alerted the guards outside.

“Great Virtuous Master!” The guards rushed in, seeing Zhang Jiao collapsed and uncertain of his fate, their cries attracting more attention.

Lu Zhi glanced at the changing clouds above Guangzong, surprise flickering in his eyes, then turned to Sun Meng. “Brother Sun, do you know this formation?”

Sun Meng was equally astonished, for he had just received a system prompt: Zhang Jiao’s remaining life is one week, the Yellow Turban uprising’s major war will end in half a month. If no mission triggers before then, you will automatically exit this world and settle rewards.

His single arrow had triggered a chain effect, hastening Zhang Jiao’s demise! How could it be so coincidental?

“Well, Brother Zigān, I really don’t understand these things. In fact, if possible, I’d like to properly learn about formations, military arrays, and cloud-command tactics. As for this, let’s call it Heaven’s blessing for the Han!” Sun Meng nodded, insisting it was not his doing but the Han’s fortune borrowing his hand.

“Hahaha, Heaven blesses the Han! Still, Brother Sun, your contribution is significant! If you truly wish to learn about military formations, I have much insight to share—even Yizhen’s marching strategies, I can shamelessly procure for you!” At last, Lu Zhi’s face broke into a rare smile.

Returning to camp, he quickly ordered the army to cook at the third watch. The troops were divided into three groups, to attack the city in rotation from dawn—not to inflict casualties, but to sap the enemy’s morale!

Meanwhile, the four-person group who had blended into the Yingchuan army camp also received the system prompt.

“No way! It’s ending already? Even with half a month left, the whole event barely totals over a month! What did that person do?” The rabbit-eared one drooped her ears in dismay. All this time, despite fighting dozens of battles, she had only managed to earn fifty merit points.

“That guy must just be lucky! I heard the main force and a great general are at Guangzong—it must be on the verge of being breached, and he just happened to benefit.” The beast-blood warrior replied, unconcerned. After all, luck is also a kind of strength.

“Come now, don’t lose heart. If the city really falls, the enemy here will surely be thrown into chaos. When the army launches its full assault, we’ll rack up a huge sum of merit! In terms of individual prowess, I’m the best among the officers here!” The beast-blood warrior’s words reassured the others. If not for him charging ahead every battle, they might not have safely accumulated merit to this point; in such a large-scale battlefield, this was already quite an achievement.

Within the command tent, Zhu Jun laughed heartily. “Yizhen, Heaven aids us! That scoundrel Zhang Jiao won’t last many days. The enemy here will surely hurry back, and we can crush them then!”

Huangfu Song took the letter, glanced at it, and smiled. “Brother Zigān is truly talented—even I could not break Guangzong so swiftly! Summon the generals—prepare for council!”