Chapter Seventeen: The Mantis, the Oriole, and the Cicada (Part Two)

Within the inner chambers of the imperial palace, beneath the flickering lantern light, Qian Shuo and the assembled Ten Constant Attendants were quietly deliberating over every detail.

“Eunuch, the palace’s inner and outer perimeters have been secretly filled with our men. To ensure absolute security, I personally oversaw the arrangements. All is ready. Please, Master Qian, rest assured.”

“Grand Eunuch, the bait is cast, and now we await He Jin to walk into our snare. There’s no need for concern—He Jin is a dim-witted man; he will surely fall for it. We need only wait patiently.”

“As for Empress Dowager He and Empress Dowager Dong in the harem—women with long hair and short sight—they cannot stir any waves. I have ensured they are settled and pose no threat.”

Qian Shuo slowly opened his eyes and nodded slightly. “Everything is in place. All that remains is a favorable wind.”

Meanwhile, in the Grand General’s residence, Cao Cao was pacing restlessly. A strategist by nature, he too had his own schemes. If he could support the enthronement of a new emperor, he could secure his safety and leave his name in history for generations to come. As the son of a eunuch, Cao Cao yearned for a chance to distinguish himself.

Just then, He Jin turned his gaze to Cao Cao. “Commander Cao, do you have any good ideas? Don’t keep them to yourself—tell me! I would be most grateful, and if things succeed, you shall be richly rewarded.”

Though He Jin was hardly bright, as Grand General he could at least recognize talent from mediocrity. He had been in command long enough to discern who was genuine and who was a mere pretender.

Cao Cao, seeing He Jin’s anxious expression, dared not withhold his counsel. “Grand General, without the Tiger Tally, we cannot mobilize the troops. In the palace, there is but one other who commands soldiers. If we can enlist his help, success will be within reach.”

“You mean Sima Wu Zifan of Youzhou! How could I have forgotten?”

“The Butcher General—quick-witted indeed. Whether from sudden inspiration or fear, who can say?” Seeing his brother He Miao drooling and half-asleep nearby, He Jin’s temper flared.

“You fat fool! All you do is eat—look at yourself, with your big head and floppy ears. How can you sleep at a time like this? Didn’t you hear what Commander Cao just said? Hurry and gather men! Do you want our whole family to die here?”

“Move, now!”

Fuming, He Jin kicked his plump brother He Miao, sending him tumbling. Then he shouted, “Surround my residence with heavy troops! No one comes or goes without my order—not even a fly escapes!”

“Yes, sir!” Startled awake, He Miao shook his head clear and stumbled toward the door, driven by the sense of mortal urgency. Now, with their lives hanging in the balance, everyone was spurred to action.

“Commander Cao, I entrust the task of contacting Zifan to you. You must see it through!” He Jin clutched Cao Cao’s hand, his tone almost intimate—enough to make any onlooker suspect some secret bond between the two men.

“Yes, sir…”

“Rest assured, Grand General. Leave the matter of Zifan to me…”

Cao Cao galloped through the night, pondering how he might persuade Zifan to send troops. They were neither kin nor close friends, and had met but once; asking him to march out soldiers would not be easy. Still, he put on an air of confidence.

Title? The young man already held the post of Youzhou Prefect; rank would not tempt him. Beauty? In the prime of his youth, perhaps beautiful women might sway him, but that, too, was insufficient. Persuasion, threats, promises—how best to proceed?

Lost in thought, Cao Cao found himself at the edge of the military encampment, nestled between mountain and stream under the silver moonlight. Before him spread a camp arrayed in a perfect circle—a rare formation. Most generals would choose the standard triangle, but Zifan had chosen the circle, equally suited for attack and defense.

Banners and war drums glowed under the moon; armor and weapons flashed in the night. Troops mustered in tight formation, awaiting the commander’s order.

Yang You, in fine furs, stood at the front as if reenacting General Ya Fu’s famed encampment at Xiliu. The sight alone seemed enough to secure the capital. The reputation of the Black Cavalry grew ever more formidable.

“What a magnificent force,” Cao Cao thought, realizing more than ever his own future need to build a crack cavalry—the Tiger and Leopard Riders. Any thought of threatening Zifan melted away; in this camp, a threat would only get him cut down.

“The camp is off-limits. Take one more step and you’ll be shot full of arrows!” A sentry on the watchtower spotted him and sounded the alarm.

“Do not draw weapons,” Cao Cao called out. “I am Cao Cao, Grand Commandant of Han, and a friend of your Sima. I come on official business of great importance—please deliver word to him at once!”

Cao Cao dared not let his guard down, announcing his identity and rank to avoid provoking the troops—a fox among wolves. Yet the sentries’ stern demeanor made it clear: one more step and he’d be riddled with arrows.

“Such fine soldiers! This young Sima of Youzhou truly lives up to his reputation, to have trained such a disciplined force. A true prodigy—one day, I must learn from him.”

“Please withdraw one hundred paces. We will report your arrival at once.” The sentries wasted no time, but their comrades kept their arrows trained on Cao Cao, unyielding.

“Commander Cao—”

“The General will see you now…”

As a man from another world, Zifan had foreseen all this. Upon leaving the palace, he had seized favorable terrain, his vantage point commanding a clear view of the palace below.

Now, all he had to do was wait for Cao Cao. In the firelight, armored cavalry stood ready, lines of infantry behind them—pikemen, swordsmen with shields, archers and crossbowmen, all in ordered ranks, armor gleaming, weapons shining, brimming with pride and strength.

Within the command tent—

Zifan wore a radiant helmet crested with green tassels, a suit of plum-blossom and elm-leaf mail, a red velvet belt with beast-head plates, a white brocade robe, and purple sashes. Yellow boots completed the ensemble; a bow and a quiver of arrows rested at his side.

Ding Feng stood by, imposing and resolute, executing every order from Zifan without hesitation. In this army, there was a saying: “He who heeds Zifan shall rule the world. He who trusts Zifan shall have eternal life.”

Though often baffled by Zifan’s unconventional thinking, Ding Feng obeyed without question. When Zifan predicted a visitor would come tonight, the army had been ready since dusk. Watching Zifan deep in thought, Ding Feng could only marvel—surely his lord was a sage, one who could see the future. This was the enlightened ruler he had always sought. In this life, he had no regrets.

Hearing that an old acquaintance had arrived, Zifan finally opened his eyes, murmuring, “So, it is about to begin at last…”

The long-awaited moment had finally come.