Cunning as a fox. Greedy as a jackal.
That was Pang Tong's professional assessment of Han Sui. It wasn't born of personal dislike; it was simply the inescapable conclusion drawn from reviewing the man's entire track record.
Han Sui had been one of the principal architects of Liangzhou's chaos. He raided the Sanfu region, pledged loyalty to Dong Zhuo when it suited him, submitted to the Han court when circumstances demanded it, and rebelled again the moment the wind changed. To secure his own position, he had even murdered his sworn brothers and taken their wives. That was Han Sui in a nutshell.
From the start of the Yellow Turban Rebellion in the first year of Zhongping until now, Han Sui's consistent strategic doctrine in the northwest could be summarized in exactly two words: Cause trouble.
If he felt strong, he rebelled. If he got punched in the mouth and knocked senseless, he instantly surrendered and begged for peace talks.
For a brief moment, Pang Tong actually found himself wondering: Is Han Sui genuinely Han Chinese? Because honestly, he acts more like a barbarian than the actual barbarians do.
Right now, Han Sui's decision to abandon Yongzhou and retreat into the barren wastes of Liangzhou was classic Han Sui. Running away when you're losing wasn't considered a disgrace in his playbook; it was standard operating procedure. The man was incredibly expert at fleeing.
This was exactly what Pang Tong had predicted. And whatever Han Sui did next, Pang Tong wasn't particularly worried.
In truth, Han Sui himself was no longer the greatest concern. After all, the total population of Liangzhou was currently smaller than Yizhou's. The crucial Silk Road trade routes were severed, and the province had become little more than a windswept frontier struggling to feed itself.
Han Sui, however, was a man consumed by ambition. If he hoped to restore his fortunes from such a barren land, only two paths remained open to him. He could exhaust his remaining strength attempting to violently subdue the Western Regions, or he could stake everything on an ambitious, desperate advance toward the Tibetan Plateau.
Neither option appealed to Pang Tong. In fact, they both sounded like disasters waiting to happen.
What concerned him instead was Cheng Gongying's latest intelligence. Despite commanding little more than the ragged remnants of his former army, Han Sui still believed he could preserve his influence by balancing the surrounding powers against one another.
Pang Tong smiled internally.
Oh, old Han. The waters of political maneuvering are way too deep for you right now. You're going to drown. Let me just give you a little push.
Outwardly, however, his expression remained perfectly courteous.
"Since that is the current situation," Pang Tong said aloud, his tone smooth and diplomatic, "when General Cheng Gongying returns to Liangzhou, I will dispatch an envoy team to travel alongside him. After all, this shipment of warhorses you brought us is truly spectacular. We must formally thank the General Who Conquers the West in person."
Cheng Gongying inclined his head slowly.
The proposal was entirely reasonable and perfectly consistent with diplomatic convention. There was no logical reason to refuse.
Yet it did little to ease the heavy unease weighing on his heart.
The problem was that Cheng Gongying was genuinely loyal to Han Sui. He watched his lord, a man who had once dominated a region, slowly lose allies and lose his grip on reality. Now, Han Sui was relying on Yan Xing, a man serving their mortal enemy Cao Cao, just to secure an escape route.
Deep down, Cheng Gongying could no longer deny the truth. Han Sui had grown old. Not just in years, but in judgment. His instincts, once sharp enough to navigate decades of war and betrayal, were beginning to fail him.
This diplomatic maneuvering, however, was just a side act.
Across the dusty training ground, Zhao Yun had finally finished breaking the wild stallion. The horse stood with its head lowered, flanks heaving as sweat darkened its blue-gray coat. The fierce resistance from earlier had vanished, replaced by the quiet resignation of an animal that had accepted its rider.
The moment their commander stepped away, his personal guards crowded into the corral. Laughter and spirited arguments quickly filled the air as they examined the newly arrived horses from Liangzhou, each man insisting he had found the finest mount in the herd.
Leaning against the wooden fence, Zhao Yun simply watched with a faint smile. His men had spent years campaigning beside him. Better horses meant better odds of surviving the next battle, so he had no intention of interfering with their choices.
Zhang Fei, bored out of his mind, eventually wandered over.
"Zilong," he asked, "are you not going to have them choose only white horses?"
Zhao Yun laughed and shook his head. "There is no need."
Seeing Zhang Fei's puzzled expression, he continued, "General Gongsun Zan raised the White Horse Volunteers to intimidate the Wuhuan on the northern frontier. Liaodong had vast grasslands and no shortage of horses, so he could afford to be that selective."
He gestured toward the restless herd.
"We are only beginning to build our cavalry. At this stage, every sound horse is valuable. It would be foolish to reject a fine warhorse simply because of its color."
Zhang Fei rubbed his chin. "The reasoning makes sense," he admitted. "Still, a thousand white horses charging together would be quite a sight."
Zhao Yun only smiled. "I will not argue with that."
Before either man could continue, a plume of dust appeared on the distant horizon.
Only a handful of riders were approaching. Zhao Yun's guards straightened, their hands settling on their sword hilts out of habit rather than alarm.
Zhang Fei instantly waved off the mild tension, not even looking up. "Relax. It's just Ma Mengqi."
The approaching riders were mounted on powerful Liangzhou warhorses, their hoofbeats rolling across the plain like distant thunder. They covered the remaining distance in moments and reined in sharply before the fence. Even before his mount had fully stopped, the man at their head was already shouting.
"Zhang Yide! I heard that Zhao Zilong of Changshan is here."
"Where is he now?"
For once, Zhang Fei responded with an awkward laugh instead of his usual booming confidence. He rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly found the clouds overhead far more interesting than the question.
The riders dismounted together.
When Zhao Yun turned toward the newcomers, his eyes settled immediately on the young general leading them.
Over the years, Zhao Yun had met no shortage of remarkable men. Zhou Yu of Jiangdong was renowned for his handsome appearance, Zhuge Liang possessed an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, and Jiang Wan carried himself with the quiet dignity of a statesman.
Yet none of them dressed quite like this young commander.
His armor was trimmed with fine fur and reinforced with polished iron plates that gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Around his waist rested an ornate jade belt despite the armor, while a luxurious fur cloak hung from his shoulders as though he had dressed for both a battlefield and a banquet.
For some reason, Zhao Yun thought this Ma Chao would get along well with the "Jinfan Thief" from Jiangdong. They shared the same chaotic fashion sense.
Ma Chao needed no one to identify Zhao Yun for him. The instant he called out the name, every one of Zhao Yun's guards had instinctively turned toward their commander. That reaction alone was answer enough.
Their eyes met.
Ma Chao looked Zhao Yun over with open curiosity before speaking.
"So you are Zhao Zilong. They say you rode through Cao Cao's battle lines time and again, fought your way out after being surrounded by a thousand enemies, and led three hundred cavalry to break twenty thousand men during the Yizhou campaign. They also say that the great clans of Yizhou stopped resisting the moment you appeared before them."
He slowly walked closer, studying Zhao Yun from head to toe with the careful attention of a cavalryman judging a valuable mount.
A broad grin spread across his face.
"Zhang Yide also told me something else. He said Lu Bu was first under Heaven, Zhao Yun second, Dian Wei third, Guan Yu fourth, Ma Chao fifth, and Zhang Fei sixth. Since Lu Bu is gone, does that make you the greatest warrior under Heaven?"
Zhao Yun slowly turned his head toward Zhang Fei.
The larger man coughed into his fist and looked away for a moment before realizing there was little point pretending innocence. He laughed heartily, slapped Zhao Yun on the shoulder with enough force to shake the dust from his armor, and answered before Zhao Yun could say a word.
"Exactly right. My fourth brother Zhao Zilong from Changsan is unmatched beneath Heaven."
That was all it took.
The answer delighted Ma Chao.
His eyes brightened with excitement as he unclasped the heavy fur cloak from his shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.
"Excellent. Then let me, Ma Mengqi of Xiliang, see whether that reputation is deserved."
He did not wait for a reply. He spun around, vaulted back into the saddle, and spurred his horse toward an open stretch of ground.
Watching him ride away, Zhang Fei finally began to look a little embarrassed. He opened his mouth, intending to offer some awkward explanation, but Zhao Yun simply raised a hand to stop him.
"Saddle my horse."
His personal guards snapped into action. The newly broken Qinghai stallion was fitted with a saddle and reins in seconds.
Zhao Yun swung up into the saddle. He looked down at Zhang Fei, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to cold focus.
"Yide, if we are going to help our lord restore the realm, then the commander of his cavalry cannot afford to lose."
With that, he snapped the reins.
The Qinghai stallion shot forward, surging across the dirt to chase down Ma Chao. His guards followed without orders. A sharp whistle cut through the air, and dozens of riders galloped after their commander to secure the perimeter.
The cold northern wind rushed against Zhao Yun's face, but it only sharpened his thoughts. Zhuge Liang had understood him better than anyone else. By nature, Zhao Yun disliked rivalry and had never pursued fame for its own sake. He could yield precedence in matters of rank, politics, or reputation without the slightest hesitation.
Yet Liu Bei's words before the Yizhou campaign still echoed in his mind.
If they were going to pacify this broken world, they desperately needed elite cavalry.
Zhao Yun had spent his entire life in the saddle. Cavalry warfare was not merely his profession but the craft to which he had devoted himself for decades. On that field, where horse and rider became one, he had no intention of yielding to anyone.
Ma Chao had already reined in his horse at the far end of the makeshift arena. Turning his mount to face the field, he watched Zhao Yun close the distance at an unhurried pace and let out a booming laugh.
"All right, old man!" Ma Chao called across the open ground. "How do you want to do this? Training spears? Or..."
Zhao Yun shook his head. Provocation. Useless.
"Use whatever you handle best," Zhao Yun replied, his voice carrying easily on the wind. "I would rather you not blame your weapon after you lose."
The remark landed where it was meant to. Ma Chao's smile vanished, replaced by a flush of anger.
"Fine!" he barked. "Full armor. Live steel. If you die here today, I will ride south, swear loyalty to Imperial Uncle Liu Bei, and help him conquer the world in your place!"
Zhao Yun leaned forward and drew his silver spear. The familiar weight settled into his hands as he gave it a smooth spin, then leveled its gleaming point toward Ma Chao.
His expression remained calm.
"I will hold back," he said evenly. "I have no intention of taking your life."
Ma Chao wisely swallowed whatever retort had been on the tip of his tongue. His grip tightened around his own heavy spear as he wheeled his horse toward the edge of the field, his face burning with determination.
Events moved so quickly that by the time Pang Tong and Cheng Gongying hurried over, the duel was already moments from beginning. They arrived to find Ma Chao simmering with barely restrained aggression while Zhao Yun sat quietly in the saddle, as composed as if he were waiting for a routine drill.
Cheng Gongying's heart nearly stopped.
"If either of them dies today, Yongzhou and Liangzhou will erupt into rebellion!" he cried, grabbing Pang Tong's sleeve. "Strategist Pang, you must stop this before it becomes a disaster!"
Pang Tong barely looked concerned.
"Even if the worst happens," he replied with a lazy wave, "Han Sui is still here to stabilize the region. What is there to worry about?"
Cheng Gongying stared at him in disbelief.
"How can that possibly be the same thing? Han Sui..."
His protest trailed off. Arguing with Pang Tong was about as useful as arguing with a stone wall.
Seeing the envoy on the verge of despair, Pang Tong finally relented.
"General Zhao already said he would spare Ma Chao's life," he said with a faint smile. "He keeps his word. No one is going to die today. Just watch."
Martial contests were nothing unusual on the northwestern frontier, but a mounted duel in full armor with live weapons between two warriors of this caliber was something even seasoned veterans rarely witnessed.
Pang De raised his bow and sent a signal arrow screaming into the sky.
The sharp whistle had barely faded before both riders urged their horses forward.
Their mounts surged across the field with astonishing speed. In an instant they met at full gallop. Spears flashed. Steel rang against steel. Then both men had already thundered past one another.
Each rider hauled hard on the reins, turning for another charge.
Ma Chao's eyes shone with excitement. During that brief exchange, he had driven his spear forward with all the speed and force he could muster, yet Zhao Yun had reacted a heartbeat later and still managed to sweep the attack aside with effortless precision.
His reflexes are unbelievable.
Across the field, Zhao Yun remained calm, though one thought crossed his mind.
If only I had stirrups.
With proper stirrups, he could have anchored himself and used the collision to throw Ma Chao clean out of the saddle on the very first pass.
Still, it changed nothing.
The outcome had already been decided.
Raising his silver spear once more, Zhao Yun leveled its point across the open ground.
"Two more passes," he said calmly. "Then this duel is over."