After Zuo Bao left, Yang Feng scratched idly, his thoughts drifting.
Now that the promise of wealth and official rank seemed within reach, only one thing was missing—
A woman.
"Are there any prostitutes in this city?" he asked bluntly.
His attendants hesitated before replying, "There are none. But we've heard the Wei family has a newlywed lady of exceptional beauty—the daughter of the great scholar Cai Yong. Shall we bring her to you?"
At once, Yang Feng's interest was piqued.
"Go. Take fifty armored men and bring her here."
"Yes, sir."
The attendant saluted and left—but returned shortly after, looking uneasy.
"General… that woman has disappeared."
Meanwhile, Zuo Bao returned to report everything to Zhang Xin.
"The Prefect of Hedong?" Zhang Xin sneered. "Yang Feng really dares to ask."
Historically, Yang Feng was no stranger to opportunism. During the chaos of later years, he would surrender, switch allegiances, and bargain for rank—eventually rising high through opportunistic maneuvering.
Zhang Xin knew exactly what kind of man he was.
That was why he had dangled official titles as bait—to keep Yang Feng negotiating, delaying him from seeking reinforcements from Guo Da.
But he hadn't expected such greed.
"Two-thousand-shi salary…" Zhang Xin scoffed. "Even now, with Liu Hong still alive, he dares to demand that?"
Zuo Bao was equally indignant.
Back then, Zhang Xin had braved the freezing Yanshan Mountains and struck deep into enemy territory to earn his position. Even powerful figures like Chu Yan had only received modest ranks.
And Yang Feng?
A mere leader of thirty thousand disorganized peasants—
How dare he demand equal standing?
"My lord, how should I reply?" Zuo Bao asked.
"No rush," Zhang Xin said calmly. "Rest for a few days. The longer this drags on, the better for us."
"Yes."
"And…" Zhang Xin added, his gaze sharpening, "set the men in motion. It's time to deliver Yang Feng a decisive blow."
Zuo Bao saluted and departed.
Watching him leave, Zhang Xin sighed inwardly.
Luoyang had been vibrant, full of life.But beyond it—the land was shattered.
Even a man like Yang Feng now dared to covet high office.
The Han Dynasty truly was rotting from within.
Composing himself, Zhang Xin went to a quiet courtyard.
Inside, Cai Yan had already changed back into women's clothing.
"Zhaoji," he called softly.
"Senior Brother Ziqing," she replied, stepping forward with a faint smile and bowing.
Zhang Xin studied her silently.
In less than a year and a half, she had changed.
The lively, spirited girl from before was gone. In her place stood a woman marked by hardship—her eyes carrying a quiet sorrow.
She now resembled the tragic figure history would remember.
Zhang Xin sat on a nearby stone.
"How have you been?" he asked gently.
Cai Yan recounted everything—her mistreatment, her loneliness, the fear during the siege.
As she spoke, tears fell like broken pearls.
"It's alright," Zhang Xin said softly. "Rest here for a few days. Then I'll send you back to Luoyang to reunite with your father."
She nodded.
Zhang Xin left the courtyard, his expression heavy.
Two days later, Zuo Bao returned to Pingyang.
This time, he offered Yang Feng the position of magistrate of Pingyang.
Yang Feng, of course, was dissatisfied.
Zuo Bao withdrew again.
Days passed.
Over ten days, subtle changes began to ripple through Hedong.
The name of Zhang Xin spread everywhere.
Who was Zhang Xin?
The son-in-law of the Great Teacher Zhang Jiao—a legitimate inheritor of the Yellow Turban cause!
The young commander had come not to slaughter—but to save his fellow Yellow Turbans from needless death.
Hadn't he spared the captives in Puban? Fed them? Released them?
What kind of general did that?
A benevolent one.
And alongside this narrative, former Yellow Turbans quietly spread word:
Food. Land. Wealth. Women.
Hope.
Soon, unrest stirred among the White Wave ranks.
Many began to waver—some even eager to defect.
Yet Yang Feng remained oblivious, still dreaming of becoming Prefect of Hedong.
Xu Huang sensed the danger and repeatedly tried to warn him—but was brushed aside each time.
Meanwhile, far to the north—
At Boundary Mountain, Gao Shun and Zhang Liao had completed their recruitment of three thousand fresh troops.
After reorganizing, they led their forces through the Taihang passes into Shangdang, advancing toward the Taiyuan frontier.
Inside a valley, the army paused to rest.
A scout arrived, breathless.
"Gao Sima—I've confirmed it. There are two thousand Yellow Turbans stationed at Lengquan Pass."
"How is the terrain?" Gao Shun asked.
"Treacherous. Mountains and water surround it—it will be difficult to assault."
"Can you draw it?" Zhang Liao asked.
The scout quickly sketched a rough map on the ground.
After studying it, Zhang Liao frowned.
Gao Shun, however, remained composed, already ordering preparations for a siege.
"Wait," Zhang Liao said. "Lengquan Pass is only forty li from Jiexiu. If we attack and fail, reinforcements will arrive within half a day. We'll be caught in a pincer."
Gao Shun looked at him. "Wenyuan, do you have a plan?"
Zhang Liao nodded.
"We deceive them."
He explained:
"This is deep within Yellow Turban territory. If we disguise ourselves as them, they won't suspect anything."
"I'll lead a small group to infiltrate. You follow with the main force."
Gao Shun nodded. "Be careful."
Zhang Liao grinned.
Selecting several dozen veterans, he had them wear hidden armor beneath rough clothes and wrap yellow cloth around their heads.
They approached the pass openly.
"Who goes there?" the guards called out.
"I come under orders from General Guo!" Zhang Liao shouted. "Open the gate!"
His Bingzhou accent blended naturally with the region. The defenders hesitated—
Then opened the gates.
The moment they did—
Zhang Liao's hand tightened on his sword.
"Kill!"
He surged forward.
Steel flashed.
Within moments, over a dozen defenders fell. A whistling arrow pierced the air—signal for the attack.
"Enemy attack!"
Panic erupted.
The poorly trained Yellow Turbans collapsed under the ferocity of the veterans. Many fled, throwing down their weapons.
At that moment, Gao Shun's main force stormed into the pass.
Lengquan fell.
The defeated rebels scattered eastward.
Gao Shun immediately secured the position—ordering supplies brought in and dispatching scouts along multiple routes to report the victory.
When news of the fall of Lengquan Pass reached Pingyang—
Yang Feng was finally shaken.
The report was brief, but every word struck like a hammer:
Lengquan Pass… lost.The defenders routed.The enemy had already secured the position.
Yang Feng's expression stiffened, the earlier arrogance draining from his face.
"How… how could this happen?"
That was Lengquan Pass—one of the key gateways between Taiyuan and Hedong. With it gone, the entire northern flank was exposed.
"What about Guo Da's forces?" he demanded. "Where are they?!"
"They… they haven't arrived in time," the messenger stammered.
Silence fell over the tent.
A chill crept into Yang Feng's heart.
Only now did he begin to realize—
This was no coincidence.
First, Zhang Xin remained stationed at Puban, refusing to advance.Then came the rumors spreading through the ranks—about land, food, and rewards.Now, suddenly, Lengquan Pass had fallen.
Step by step…
Zhang Xin had been tightening the noose.
Yang Feng's hands clenched.
"Gongming…"
He turned toward Xu Huang, his voice no longer as confident as before.
"What should we do now?"
Xu Huang's expression was grave.
He had warned him.
Again and again.
But now that Lengquan Pass had fallen, the situation had changed entirely.
"The enemy's intent is clear," Xu Huang said slowly."They are not attacking head-on—they are cutting off our routes."
He stepped forward and pointed north.
"With Lengquan Pass lost, communication between us and Taiyuan is severed. If Guo Da cannot link up with us, we are isolated."
Then he pointed south.
"And Zhang Xin still sits in Puban, unmoving—waiting."
Xu Huang paused, his voice lowering.
"He is waiting… for our army to collapse from within."
Yang Feng's face turned pale.
Only now did he remember—
The whispers among the soldiers.The restless glances.The growing talk of surrender.
Food. Land. Women.
Things he had promised—but never truly delivered.
"Then… then we attack!" Yang Feng suddenly shouted, trying to regain control. "We still have over thirty thousand men! We can crush Zhang Xin before things get worse!"
Xu Huang did not immediately respond.
After a long moment, he said:
"If we had acted earlier, perhaps."
"But now…"
He shook his head slightly.
"The soldiers' hearts are unsettled. If we march recklessly, we may not even reach the battlefield before our ranks begin to break."
Those words struck harder than any enemy blade.
Yang Feng staggered back a step.
For the first time—
He truly understood the situation he was in.
Not surrounded by armies—
But by doubt.
By fear.
By a quiet, invisible force that was already tearing his army apart from the inside.