Life in Yong and Liang was wild, barren, and monotonous.
Unconsciously, more than half a year had passed since arriving here. Jian Yong had gradually adapted to the place. His naturally elegant bearing had been tempered by the region's ruggedness; even his smallest gestures now carried a hint of the free-roaming gallantry unique to the northwest.
Rather than diminishing him, this transformation only made Ma Chao and the others admire him more.
As Ma Mengqi once put it after careful thought:
"Master Jian is not like those sour, pedantic scholars."
And indeed, he was not.
For Jian Yong, years of following Liu Bei across the realm had already broadened his horizons beyond measure. He had admired the snows of Liaodong, braved the miasma of Jiaozhou, witnessed giant whales off the Eastern Sea, and surveyed the mountains of Yi Province. He had seen Lü Bu fall, watched Cao Mengde rise, beheld the inferno of Red Cliffs, and witnessed the auspicious light curtain at Gong'an.
Compared to all that, the calculated displays of intimidation he encountered upon first entering Yong and Liang earlier that year felt almost… nostalgic.
Initially, Ma Chao had intended to detain Jian Yong as a guarantee against Liu Bei breaking his word. But after receiving reports from Hanzhong, Ma Chao reconsidered. Wishing to signal goodwill, he even proposed escorting Jian Yong back to Hanzhong.
Unexpectedly, Jian Yong refused.
Instead, he volunteered to remain behind and help Ma Chao sort through the tangled political and military situation in Yong and Liang so as to resist Cao Cao.
Looking back, Jian Yong still felt fortunate about that decision.
Had he returned to Hanzhong immediately, who knew what kind of chaos Sima Yi might have stirred up here in the meantime? Given how often that man appeared in the light curtain's revelations, Jian Yong did not dare underestimate him in the slightest.
After persistent persuasion, Ma Chao—decisive by nature—did not even wait until the next day. He had Sima Yi seized that very night and sent directly to Hanzhong.
In return came a handwritten letter from Liu Bei himself, overflowing with warmth and gratitude.
As for the news of the Cao envoy's disappearance leaking to Han Sui and provoking Yan Xing's distant fury—Ma Chao simply pretended not to hear it.
After half a year of listening to Master Jian evaluate the heroes of the realm, Ma Chao found Yan Xing increasingly crude and contemptible. He could no longer understand why he had ever considered that man someone of consequence.
"Master Jian, is there urgent business?"
Seeing Jian Yong striding quickly across the camp, Pang De asked with curiosity.
Jian Yong nodded. Though his steps were brisk, his bearing remained impeccable. He slightly gathered his sleeves and gestured for Pang De to accompany him.
"Has Commander Lingming been out again strengthening rapport with the brave men?"
Pang De flushed slightly. He felt that Master Jian truly had a gift for words.
In truth, he had merely been riding hard across the plains for recreation. But when Master Jian said it, it sounded almost like formal training. Pang De immediately accepted the description without correction.
Jian Yong nodded approvingly.
"General Pang is devoted to affairs of state—but even so, one must not overexert oneself."
That single, lightly spoken sentence was enough to make Pang De grin foolishly while scratching the back of his head.
Then Jian Yong's tone shifted.
"The Marquis of the Pavilion has just sent word. Intelligence confirms that the Administrator of Hanzhong is leading troops into Yong and Liang under the pretext of suppressing bandits."
The two spoke as they walked, soon arriving at Ma Chao's command tent.
What greeted them was Ma Chao's blazing gaze.
"Now that General Zhang has come," Ma Chao declared, "if we strike together, Han Sui's death is not far off!"
Guan Yunchang's great victory in Jing and Xiang had shaken the realm, and Ma Chao could not help but envy him deeply.
Had Han Sui not interfered back then, the battlefield at Tong Pass might well have become Cao Cao's burial ground. How would Ma Chao have been driven like a hunted rabbit into Yong and Liang, forced to bar his gates just to survive?
And after Master Jian's analysis, Ma Chao now understood clearly that Yan Xing had already half-pledged himself to Cao Cao. The realization only deepened his disdain.
Han Sui was old, his control over subordinates weak. Yong and Liang had long been overdue for new leadership.
At Tong Pass, had Ma Mengqi alone commanded the allied armies, would he have lost?
Reading the thoughts plainly written across Ma Chao's face, Jian Yong did not contradict him. He stepped closer to the map, studying the crude lines and sparse annotations, and found himself oddly missing the finely detailed maps from the light curtain.
"Though Han Wen'yue is aged," Jian Yong said slowly, "he is still the Han court's General Who Conquers the West."
"And he once roamed the Three Adjuncts with distinction—first earning merit by executing Li Jue, later joining you, General, in annihilating the Southern Xiongnu."
As he spoke, Jian Yong cupped his hands respectfully toward Ma Chao.
Ma Chao straightened instinctively, his face breaking into a smile. Over the past six months, Master Jian had spoken at length with him about the long enmity between the Han and the Xiongnu, praising those campaigns as acts done for the nation.
He had even said that centuries later, Han descendants would still remember such deeds with gratitude.
It was a perspective Ma Chao had never heard before—and it nearly made him want to imitate Liu Xuande and formally appoint Jian Yong as his military strategist.
"Given this," Jian Yong continued, "Han Wen'yue still commands prestige in Yong and Liang. Between you and him, there is no irreconcilable personal hatred."
"If, in anger, you were to kill him outright, the Administrator of Hanzhong would surely assist you—but would that not place you in a position of moral wrongdoing?"
Ma Chao fell silent.
Jian Yong's words made sense.
When Cao Cao advanced westward, the allied armies of Hedong and Yong-Liang had debated whether to elevate him or Han Sui as their leader. That alone spoke volumes about Han Sui's reputation.
Among the Qiang and Hu, annihilating Han Sui would not matter—ten years later, no one would remember. But for the past half year, Jian Yong had drilled one idea into Ma Chao relentlessly:
Your ancestor, Ma Yuan the Fubo General, possessed glory rivaling the Twenty-Eight Generals of Yuntai.
The Ma clan had served the Han for generations.
You must uphold Han virtue.
Yong and Liang already bore the stain of Dong Zhuo. The realm viewed this land with suspicion.
If Ma Chao—standard-bearer of Yong and Liang, descendant of a famed lineage—were to act like the Qiang and Hu, how could the people of this land ever hold their heads high again?
Standard-bearer of Yong and Liang.
"Master Jian speaks one word, and my confusion is dispelled."
Ma Chao's expression turned earnest. His grudge with Han Sui was, at most, longstanding friction. The true blood feud belonged to his father—now living in comfort in Ye City. What did that have to do with him?
"I dare not take credit," Jian Yong replied calmly. "Even without my words, General would have seen this clearly. A man of loyal principle like General Pang would surely have advised the same."
Another casual sentence, and both men smiled contentedly.
Jian Yong continued:
"Now all under Heaven know that Cao Cao is a traitor to the Han."
"When he entered Guanzhong, you were the first to raise arms against him. Your name as a Han loyalist is known throughout the realm."
"By contrast, Han Wen'yue has secretly communicated with the Cao bandit. Now that the Administrator of Hanzhong has arrived, I ask that you do not begrudge the use of your troops."
"Join him in confronting Han Wen'yue on the field. Let it be made clear whether he is a lackey of Cao Cao—or truly the Han's General Who Conquers the West."
"The Administrator of Hanzhong will surely supply grain and reward you with valuable materiel in thanks for this righteous act."
Ma Chao slapped his thigh.
"Agreed!"
Everything had been arranged perfectly. Once he marched, he gained righteousness, reputation, supplies, and the satisfaction of cornering an enemy—without even needing a desperate battle.
Ma Chao felt he had never gone to war so comfortably.
And Master Jian showed no sign of leaving at all—his sincerity was unmistakable.
How enviable Liu Xuande must be, to command so many capable men.
Years of warfare had left Guanzhong devastated; Yong and Liang were no exception. This land could not allow Han Sui to recover his strength quickly.
Thus, faced with Zhang Fei's aggressive advance, Han Sui suppressed Yan Xing's discontent and proactively recalled troops from Qishan City as a gesture of goodwill.
He then led his elite forces into Xian County, answering Zhang Fei's invitation to negotiate.
Yet from the outset, the talks went poorly.
After a full day of negotiations, Zhang Fei complained openly:
"This is worse than dealing with Yan Xing. At least with him, you can just beat him into submission."
Zhang Fei considered himself fairly eloquent—on certain points, even better than the strategist. But negotiations forbade discussing one's parents, using animal metaphors, or employing terms like "bandit scum."
He felt his rhetorical talents had been severely shackled.
Thus, the next day, Pang Tong took over the talks.
Han Sui voiced no objection—except to Pang Tong's insistence on bringing several shield-bearing guards into the negotiation tent. He considered it a sign of mistrust, though it did not impede the discussion.
Han Sui was not an ignorant frontier warlord. He had been to Chang'an and understood the vastness of the realm and Cao Cao's strength.
Judging by this year's campaigns, Cao Cao could beat him—and Liu Bei could beat Cao Cao.
It was said that Cao Cao himself had nearly perished in Jing and Xiang. That alone made Han Sui deeply wary of Liu Bei.
Last year, he had dared challenge Cao Cao because the allied armies numbered a hundred thousand. After Tong Pass, losses were severe; even now, recovery was incomplete.
"General Han," Pang Tong said calmly, "Yong and Liang are vast but sparsely populated. You have troops, but no grain."
"We control the Qishan Route at will. Hanzhong and Yi Province have not suffered war—millions of people, tens of thousands of hu of grain. To destroy you would be effortless."
Han Sui's heart leapt.
This was precisely his greatest fear.
And yet—how was this man, standing behind giant shields, managing to deliver such overbearing words with such a timid posture?
Han Sui snorted coldly. They had no cavalry, he said. At worst, he would retreat to Jincheng and return in a few years.
Pang Tong laughed.
"That was our proposal from the beginning. We ask only that General Han fulfill the duties of General Who Conquers the West—and go pacify Jincheng."
"If you cannot win here, why not preserve yourself for a task where you are still of use—to open new lands for the state?"
"After all, when we set out, even the Imperial Uncle praised your past merits. That Wuwei Administrator dared kill the Governor of Yong Province—his rebellion was suppressed by you, a service to the Han."
Pang Tong's face remained utterly calm, indifferent to the condescension embedded in his words.
That, more than anything, tormented Han Sui.
In Yong and Liang, he was undeniably a great figure. At Tong Pass, had Ma Chao not dragged him down, he might have defeated Cao Cao.
And now—a mere civilian scholar spoke as though he already held Han Sui's fate in his grasp.
"If General Han truly cannot accept this," Pang Tong added kindly,
"you may commence battle immediately."
"The Administrator of Hanzhong has recently acquired a new weapon called the modao. He is eager to test it."
"Modao?" Han Sui asked despite himself. "What weapon is that?"
Pang Tong halted the negotiations and allowed Han Sui to see for himself.
Three hundred men.
Zhang Fei at the front.
Their upper bodies were clad only in simple breastplates—but what seized the eye were their weapons: massive long-handled blades never before seen.
Stood upright, each was slightly taller than Zhang Fei himself. One portion was the haft; the rest, a cold-gleaming blade.
"This weapon," Pang Tong said lightly, "is forged in Yi Province by secret methods. One modao costs one hundred thousand coins."
He did not praise its lethality—only its price.
Han Sui, seasoned in warfare, understood immediately: no special tactics were needed. Once formed, a single downward chop would be unstoppable.
And Zhang Fei's unrestrained gaze chilled him further—a gaze Han Sui knew well.
It was the look of a man appraising merit.
The final push came with the late arrival of Ma Chao.
Seeing him stand unambiguously beside Zhang Fei, Han Sui let out a long sigh.
Whether the Han would endure, he did not know.
But Yong and Liang—there was no longer any place for him to interfere.
Ma Chao, meanwhile, stared at the modao unit with undisguised eagerness.
"What a blade!" he exclaimed. "Form up—let me charge it with cavalry!"
Zhang Fei was inwardly astonished.
To still be this lively with that kind of brain, he thought, the rumors must be true—this man really can fight.