[If you had to sum up the defining trait of Cao Cao's armies in one word, it would probably be this: numbers.
Aside from Guandu—where he had no choice but to win outnumbered against Yuan Shao—Cao Cao generally preferred to fight with overwhelming force. Many against few. Strong against weak. From the standpoint of military theory, it was the safest and most reliable approach.
Facing such a force, Zhang Fei and Ma Chao devised a plan. Wu Lan and Lei Tong would hold Xiabian City, while Zhang Fei and Ma Chao led a small detachment to camp atop Gushan, north of the city.]
Zhang Fei spoke up immediately, utterly relaxed, confidence written all over his face:
"Easy. We have the men chop down trees, decorate the banners, beat the drums, and shout like we're about to smash Cao Cao's rear lines. Once the Cao army panics and splits its attention, we charge out clean and easy. They'll collapse on their own."
He said it as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
And to be fair—it was one of Zhang Fei's signature plays.
At Changban, he'd ordered trees felled and dragged behind horses to kick up dust, faking an ambush so convincing that Cao Cao's army froze in place. That single bluff had forged the legend of the Dangyang Bridge.
Liu Bei nodded, deeply gratified.
As expected, he thought. When it comes to battlefield instincts, Third Brother never disappoints.
[When Cao Cao's forces drew near, Zhang Fei ordered his men to make a great commotion on the mountain, waving banners and shouting, "Cao thieves—your retreat is cut off!"
Seeing the mountain bristling with flags, Cao Hong suspected an ambush and hesitated, consulting with Cao Xiu and Cao Zhen on whether to withdraw.]
Zhang Fei shot a smug glance toward the hall entrance.
See that?
My tactics!
A phantom army holds back three Caos—Hanzhong is already halfway won!
His imagination took off at a gallop:
From Xiabian we press forward. I take Hanzhong as commander. Second Brother guards Jingzhou. Big Brother rules from Chengdu as emperor—
And then—
All under Heaven is settled.
[At that moment, Cao Xiu stepped forward.]
A chill crept up Zhang Fei's spine.
[The Cao army had always fought as families—brothers on the field, fathers and sons in the ranks. Cao Hong was Cao Cao's cousin. Cao Zhen was his adopted son. Cao Xiu was treated no differently from a biological heir. Cao Hong and Cao Xiu were uncle and nephew.
In such circumstances, Cao Xiu's words carried real weight.
Cao Xiu argued: "If the enemy had truly cut our supply lines, they would be lying in ambush, not shouting themselves hoarse. This is a bluff. The priority is to strike while Xiabian's garrison is thin and take the city immediately."
It was the correct call.
Cao Hong accepted it and ordered a direct assault on Xiabian. The city fell swiftly. Wu Lan and Lei Tong were killed in battle. Zhang Fei and Ma Chao—two men said to be worth ten thousand each—escaped with their lives.]
Zhang Fei's face burned red. He ducked his head and muttered,
"…Cao Cao's damn sons are everywhere…"
Zhao Yun chuckled lightly.
"General Zhang, the Changban trick taught them a lesson. What worked once won't work forever. Besides, Cao Xiu commands the Tiger and Leopard Cavalry—there's a good chance he remembers you personally."
Guan Yu added calmly,
"Third Brother, warfare demands adaptation. Reusing the same stratagem invites disaster—and costs lives."
Zhang Fei snapped upright.
"I've learned my lesson!"
"You've learned it," Guan Yu replied, "so why are you yelling?"
[Xiabian lies in what is now Gansu. Modern visitors have filmed the terrain—it truly is treacherous. Some wonder how Zhang Fei and Ma Chao escaped when surrounded below.
But that's not hard to answer.
After all—first Lü Bu, second Zhao Yun, third Dian Wei; fourth Guan Yu, fifth Ma Chao, sixth Zhang Fei.
When men like that decide to run, who exactly is stopping them?]
Jian Yong burst out laughing.
"So that's what 'ten thousand men' means?"
Mi Zhu frowned slightly.
"Catchy rhyme. Later generations, I presume? But on what basis are they ranked?"
"The screen said it's from the Romance," Jian Yong replied, chewing half a dried persimmon. "Exaggeration's a given. Wouldn't be surprised if Lü Bu's descendants wrote it."
Zhang Fei's head sank lower and lower.
Mi Zhu, however, refused to let it go.
"Still—Lü Bu first? His victories were few. Defeated by Sun Jian at Luoyang, by Li Jue at Chang'an, little to show in Xuzhou or Yanzhou. How does that earn him the top spot?"
[That saying is probably a modern invention. But our founding Chairman once praised Zhengding County, saying, "Zhengding is a fine place—it produced Zhao Zilong."
Those words still hang on the archway outside Zhao Yun's temple today.]
The screen displayed photographs of the temple gates.
Right inscription:
"His name revered in Changshan, his loyalty and valor upheld Shu-Han."
Left inscription:
"His legacy honored in Bashu, his integrity towering as mountains and rivers."
Inside, another couplet read:
Right:
"Balanced in civil and martial virtue, steady and precise—his achievements echo through ten thousand generations."
Left:
"Calm, upright, and resolute—his twin lifetimes of valor shook all under Heaven."
The hall fell utterly silent.
Even Sun Qian nearly smeared ink across Zhuge Liang's sleeve.
[Later, people expanded the list into the "Twenty-Four Generals of the Three Kingdoms," spanning Wei, Shu, and Wu—even including Deng Ai and Jiang Wei of late Shu.
No matter the version, Lü Bu remains first. Critics point to his lack of achievements and repeated betrayals, but consider this: to behave that monstrously amid the chaos of the late Han and not get killed sooner—that too is a kind of strength.]
No one cared about Lü Bu anymore.
Who were the other twenty-three?
Were they among us?
Zhao Yun had a temple.
A thousand years later, the founder of a new dynasty praised him by name.
What could be more intoxicating than that?
Jian Yong's mind raced.
If later generations can rank generals… why not ministers? Or scholars?
All that matters is getting your name on the list first.
Zhang Fei muttered sourly,
"So can we call you 'Zhao Zilong of Shijiazhuang' now, Yunmei?"
Zhao Yun smiled faintly.
"As you wish."
Let history judge, he thought calmly.
I'll keep doing what I do.
[Yunmei can wait—his seven charges come later.
Back to Lü Bu.
His personal strength mattered, but more crucial was the Bingzhou cavalry he commanded—a force with deep historical roots.
Under Emperor Wu of Han, three elite cavalry corps were raised to fight the Xiongnu: Liangzhou heavy horse, Bingzhou cavalry, and Youzhou shock riders. Recruitment from these regions continued until the Han's end.
The Book of Later Han records: "The Founder pacified the realm with You and Bing cavalry, establishing special camps at Liyang and granting heavy tax exemptions."
Professional soldiers versus militias—there was never any suspense.
That is why Lü Bu could rampage through the Central Plains for over a decade. Emperor Wu laid the foundation, and those cavalrymen carried it forward.]
So much of Han history felt painfully close to greatness.
The foundations were right.
The direction was right.
And yet—