Standing upon the mighty pass, watching tens of thousands march east.
Commanding north and south alike, with fierce generals riding ahead.
Liu Bei felt that no matter how many years passed, he would never forget this day.
It felt no different from the countless scenes that had filled the past fifty years of his life.
He remembered the boy who once pointed at a great mulberry tree and boasted that one day he would ride beneath imperial banners.
He remembered the young man who lost himself in Luoyang's splendor, wasting days on cockfights, wine, and laughter while pretending to study.
He remembered the inferno that swallowed the capital, the flames that reduced Luoyang to ashes, and the later fires that shattered Cao Cao's southern ambitions.
Most of all, he remembered faces.
Faces frozen in death.
Some confused, some unwilling, some grieving, some furious, some relieved.
Men, women, elders, children.
Crying, cursing, screaming, begging.
The great Han, forged by their ancestors, had once seemed like a candle flickering in the wind, its flame so faint that one breath might have ended it forever.
And yet, somehow, that small flame had survived.
Because one figure after another had stepped forward to shield it with their bodies.
Liu Bei turned his head.
There stood Pang Tong with his crooked smile, Fa Zheng with his solemn gaze, Lu Su relaxed but attentive, Huo Jun burning with anticipation, Zhang Fei nearly vibrating with impatience.
And then there was Kongming, calm as always, gently reminding him,
"My lord, it is time."
Liu Bei blinked, as though waking from a long dream, and nodded.
He was dressed in the splendid robes he had loved in his youth, yet now they felt strangely heavy on him, almost out of place.
Standing atop Tong Pass, he drew the ceremonial sword at his waist and looked toward the rising sun breaking across the eastern sky.
With the blade leveled forward, he declared,
"March out. Drive out the traitors."
"Restore the Han. Bring peace to the people."
The eight words were carried down from the walls by officers and aides, passed from mouth to mouth until they fell like spring rain upon the vast army below.
And then the soldiers answered.
Men from Xuzhou, Yanzhou, Jingzhou, Yizhou, Guanzhong and beyond shouted back in one swelling roar.
At first the sound was chaotic, a sea of voices crashing together.
But gradually the noise found rhythm, the words sharpened, and the tide of sound rose higher and higher until only two words remained.
They surged upward like a storm wave and struck the top of Tong Pass.
"Long live!"
Liu Bei tilted his head slightly, listening as though the sound itself were something fragile he wished to hold.
Below, the army was already moving.
Horses were brought forward.
Blades were lifted.
Banners unfurled.
Zhang Fei swung into the saddle, the twin banners of Han and Zhang snapping wildly behind him as the vanguard peeled away from the main army and surged forward.
This was no ordinary force.
Its bones were the survivors of Changban.
Its flesh was made from soldiers trained by the strategists and by Zhao Yun.
Its skin was formed from victory after victory, from Yizhou to Yongliang.
Its spirit had been hammered into shape by Zhang Fei's relentless drilling.
It was an army that had long since forgotten what fear was supposed to feel like.
Zhang Ji, glancing back, even saw some of the troops joking as they marched, speaking in rough Guanzhong accents they had picked up along the way while proudly shouting,
"Vanguard army!"
"Aye!"
"Grab your weapons!"
"Aye!"
Not exactly poetry, but enthusiasm counted for something.
Behind them followed Liu Bei's central army.
Kongming and Pang Tong oversaw strategy and command logistics.
Huo Jun and Chen Shi stood ready before Liu Bei's command tent.
Lu Su and Fa Zheng moved with the rear elements, ensuring supply lines and grain transport remained secure.
By the time the army set out, Liu Bei had already shed the elegant robes and changed back into plain armor, once again looking like an old campaign soldier rather than a noble lord.
Before leaving, he turned once more to look at Tong Pass and quietly said,
"All matters here are entrusted to you. I trust that…"
Fu Rong straightened and replied loudly,
"I will not fail you, my lord!"
Liu Bei laughed warmly and patted the veteran's shoulder.
"How could I doubt it?"
He then glanced at the young officer beside Fu Rong, whose armor clearly did not fit him very well, and gave him a brief encouraging pat as well before turning away without hesitation.
"Kongming, Shiyuan, Zhongmiao, move out. We must not let Yide wait too long ahead."
Chen Shi followed silently behind his lord.
Only after turning did he hear the young officer whispering excitedly despite trying to keep his voice down,
"Father, Father, the lord encouraged me! One day I will become his Champion Marquis!"
Hearing Fu Rong trying to calm his son, Chen Shi allowed himself the faintest stiff smile before quickening his pace.
Of course, Liu Bei's remark about not keeping Zhang Fei waiting was more symbolic than literal.
The vanguard was entirely mounted, each soldier carrying only a few days' rations, even the craftsmen traveling with spare horses.
Under such conditions, their advance was almost reckless in speed.
By the time the sun had only begun to tilt westward, Zhang Fei's force had already reached the walls of Shan County.
After resting for barely an hour, the army formed ranks and prepared to attack, while Liu Bei's slower central army, with infantry, baggage, and engineers, had not even fully cleared Tong Pass yet.
Shan County was called a county, but it was closer to a fortress.
East of Tong Pass, the Zhongtiao Mountains and the Xiao Mountains flanked the Yellow River from north and south, stretching nearly two hundred li before converging near Shan County, creating a natural pocket of land with Hongnong at its center.
Since Hongnong lay in a flat river valley without natural defenses, anyone seeking strong defensive ground could rely only on Tong Pass or Shan County.
Yet Shan County lacked Tong Pass's advantages.
Tong Pass had Chang'an at its back, a vast reservoir of manpower and resources.
Shan County sat awkwardly between Chang'an and Luoyang, and while Hongnong might have supported it in better times, the chaos of war had long since drained that region dry.
What stood before Zhang Fei now was therefore a refined but modest fortress.
Not nearly as imposing as Tong Pass, yet still far stronger than any ordinary county wall.
The sun burned harshly overhead as Zhang Fei shaded his eyes and studied the city for a long moment before finally waving a hand.
No order needed to be spoken.
Fan Jiang and Zhang Da immediately yanked their reins and rode toward the hundred or so craftsmen accompanying the army.
"General, do you intend a direct assault on Shan County?"
Zhang Ji, now serving as Zhang Fei's deputy, asked.
Zhang Fei did not answer immediately, instead countering,
"What does Derong think?"
Zhang Ji considered carefully before replying honestly,
"It is not yet the seventh month. When we passed Hongnong, we saw that the green wheat harvest had only just begun."
"That means the city stores cannot hold more than half a month's grain. If we spread rumors that Xin'an has already fallen and cut them off psychologically…"
Before he finished, Zhang Fei nodded.
"A good plan."
Then he shook his head.
"Too slow."
He pointed at the city and spoke with complete certainty,
"We are the vanguard. Breaking strongholds is our duty. This city must fall by noon tomorrow at the latest."
Zhang Ji heard the tone in his voice. There was no room for doubt.
He straightened, looked once more at Shan County, then at the mere hundred craftsmen behind them, and after a moment's thought, realization dawned on his face.
"If the general has already decided…"
"Allow me to cover the formation."
Zhang Fei, now fully in campaign mode and utterly humorless, simply nodded to the comrade who had fought beside him in Liangzhou the year before, then turned his horse and rode off.