Chapter Thirty-Four: Zhao Yun of Changshan

Two months passed by swiftly. It was morning, and Liu Yao was assisting Ju Shou with governmental affairs, taking the opportunity to learn as well. At that moment, Shi A strode in, his face brimming with excitement. “My lord, my teacher has returned!”

Liu Yao was taken aback, then spoke excitedly, “Oh, you mean Wang Yue? Wang Yue has returned?”

“Indeed.”

“Hahaha, then why not bring him in at once?” Liu Yao called out.

Soon after, a figure entered—it was none other than Wang Yue himself. “Wang Yue pays respects to my lord.”

Liu Yao could not help but feel sentimental; after all, Wang Yue had been one of his earliest followers, and it had been over half a year since they last met. Liu Yao strode forward and helped Wang Yue up. “Please, rise. Ziru, how have you fared these past months?”

Wang Yue replied, “Reporting to my lord, I have managed well. The three thousand men under my command, the Dark Division, have completed their training and I have dispersed them across the various provinces.” Liu Yao had sent Wang Yue to Liaoxi to train this secret unit—the region was desolate, the perfect place for forging death-defying warriors. Now that their training was complete, Wang Yue had returned.

“My thanks, Ziru. You have endured much hardship for me these years,” Liu Yao said, moved.

“It was no hardship, my lord. If not for your recognition of my abilities, I would still be loitering in Luoyang, let alone commanding so many men now,” Wang Yue replied, shaking his head.

Liu Yao felt a pang of guilt. He had promised Wang Yue an official post to secure his service, yet the promise remained unfulfilled. Though Wang Yue commanded the Dark Division, it was a clandestine force, and Liu Yao could not openly grant him a proper official rank. “Ziru, rest assured. When I hold true authority, I will keep my promise to you,” Liu Yao vowed solemnly.

“Many thanks, my lord,” Wang Yue replied, his voice trembling with emotion. Then, changing the subject, he continued, “My lord, I have another matter to request of you this time.”

“Oh? What is it?” Liu Yao asked with curiosity. “So long as it is within my power, I will not refuse.”

“My lord, I have a friend whose disciple has recently completed his training and wishes to seek a worthy master and establish his own legacy. Thus, I have invited him to serve under you,” Wang Yue said, somewhat hesitantly.

Liu Yao agreed without a second thought. “Ah, so it’s only that? No problem. Let him serve under your command.” In Liu Yao’s mind, Wang Yue’s friend would certainly be a man of chivalry, and his disciple likewise, making the Dark Division the perfect place for him.

But Wang Yue shook his head. “My lord, though my friend is also of chivalrous origin, his disciple is trained in the arts of war. He wishes to join the army, not serve in my division.”

“You mean he wants to enlist? Very well, I shall grant him the post of company commander,” Liu Yao replied, considering the favor to Wang Yue a small matter.

Wang Yue shook his head once more. “My lord, my friend’s disciple truly possesses remarkable skill. He is not one to rise through connections alone. He has said that you may test him as you see fit, and if he fails, he will leave at once.”

“Oh? Now my interest is piqued. What is this man’s name?” Liu Yao asked, taking a sip of tea. Only two types of people would speak so boldly: the ignorant braggart or one supremely confident in his abilities. Liu Yao suspected the latter.

Wang Yue replied, “His surname is Zhao, given name Yun, style name Zilong, a native of Changshan.”

Pfft—cough, cough! Liu Yao spat out his tea, coughing violently.

“My lord, are you alright?” Shi A asked with concern.

Liu Yao ignored Shi A, staring incredulously at Wang Yue. “Ziru, I may have misheard you. Repeat—what is his name, and where is he from?”

Though bewildered by Liu Yao’s reaction, Wang Yue repeated, “Surname Zhao, given name Yun, style name Zilong. From Changshan.”

“Is your friend perhaps Tong Yuan, the Wandering Spear Sage of Penglai?”

“Er, yes,” Wang Yue replied, surprised Liu Yao knew the name.

“Where is Zhao Yun now? Take me to him at once!” Liu Yao urged eagerly. Zhao Yun—another peerless general, whose martial prowess in the Three Kingdoms era was second to none, perhaps only surpassed by Lü Bu. Of course, compared to Huang Zhong in his prime, the difference would be hard to judge, for by the time they met, Huang Zhong was already in his twilight years.

“My lord, with your status, it would not do to go in person. Allow me to bring him in instead,” Wang Yue said, unable to understand Liu Yao’s excitement.

“Ah, yes, you are right.” Liu Yao caught himself and regained composure. “Ziru, bring him to the training ground.”

“Yes, my lord.”

At the training ground, Liu Yao, Shi A, Zhang Fei, Taishi Ci, and Huang Zhong were all present.

Zhang Fei, impatient as ever, spoke up after a short wait. “My lord, your old Zhang was in the middle of drilling troops. Why have you called me here?”

Liu Yao glanced at the disgruntled Zhang Fei and replied with a smile, “Yide, are you not fond of making friends with heroes? Today, I have one to introduce. You should get to know him well—his skill matches your own.”

“Oh, a hero, is it? Where is he? I’d like to meet him.” Zhang Fei grinned broadly.

“There,” Liu Yao said, nodding toward a direction.

Everyone turned to look. At the entrance of the training ground stood two figures—Wang Yue in front, followed by a strikingly handsome youth of seventeen or eighteen. Yet beneath his youthful features was a steadiness uncommon for his age. He wore light armor and carried a long spear, its tip gleaming with a cold, deadly light—a weapon of extraordinary quality.

As everyone gazed at Zhao Yun, it felt as though they were seeing a mirror of Liu Yao himself, though without Liu Yao’s air of nobility and authority, and with a sharper edge to his presence.

“What? Just a pretty boy? How can this be a hero?” Zhang Fei scoffed, his bad habit of judging by appearances surfacing again. In his eyes, only burly men like himself could be true heroes.

Liu Yao shot him a fierce glare, and Zhang Fei, recalling that his own lord was also a “pretty boy”—one who had bested him in feats of strength—immediately fell silent, cold sweat trickling down his back.

“My lord, I have brought Zhao Yun,” Wang Yue announced.

“Your humble subject Zhao Yun pays respects to the Governor,” Zhao Yun said.

“Rise,” Liu Yao nodded, scrutinizing him for a moment. “So, you are Zhao Yun—Zhao Zilong, disciple of the Wandering Spear Sage of Penglai?”

Zhao Yun replied calmly, “I am. My master is indeed Tong Yuan.”

Seeing Zhao Yun’s composed demeanor, Liu Yao nodded in satisfaction. “I have heard of you. Since you wish to serve under me, I care not for your origins. If you can prove your true ability, I will surely grant you a worthy position.” Although Liu Yao knew of Zhao Yun’s martial prowess, appointing him without cause would stir discontent. But if Zhao Yun demonstrated his extraordinary skill, none could object.

“Please give your command, my lord,” Zhao Yun replied coolly, though inwardly he felt deep gratitude. Liu Yao was not one to judge by birth, and for that alone, Zhao Yun found himself favorably disposed toward him.