Chapter Seventy-Nine: Zhang Jiao's Double

Liu Yao followed Guo Jia’s gaze, his eyes sharply fixed on the so-called “Zhang Jiao.” Indeed, the man’s hands were unusually pale and delicate, more befitting a scholar who wielded brush and ink than a farmer or soldier hardened by labor and war.

At that moment, Zhang Jiao’s eyes met Liu Yao’s. The former, startled by Liu Yao’s piercing stare, leaned back slightly and then, with a guilty air, turned his head away, refusing to meet Liu Yao’s gaze again. Seeing this, Liu Yao could not help but let out a cold laugh. He grew more certain that this was not Zhang Jiao, but rather a substitute. The heavy stone in his heart finally settled, though he remained curious as to where Zhang Jiao had found someone so remarkably similar to himself.

Upon the city wall, Zhang Bao noticed Liu Yao had suddenly fallen silent, conversing in whispers with a young man beside him instead. Suspicion stirred within Zhang Bao, and he worried that Liu Yao was plotting some cunning scheme.

Thus, Zhang Bao hurriedly shouted, “Liu Yao, if you have any courage, come and attack the city. Otherwise, this general shall not entertain you further!” With that, he began to retreat toward the city’s interior.

“Wait!” Liu Yao called out, “Zhang Bao, I came here today seeking Zhang Jiao, not to waste time with you. If you wish to leave, do so. But Zhang Jiao, I have a question for you.”

Hearing Liu Yao insult him, Zhang Bao’s fury ignited. “Liu Yao, you go too far!”

Liu Yao paid him no further heed; a familiar curve appeared at his lips as he addressed Zhang Jiao, “Zhang Jiao, I have a question. If you can answer, I, as a prince of the Han, swear to withdraw at once, petition the court to pardon you and your followers, and never attack Guangzong again. What say you?”

“No!” At Liu Yao’s words, Huangfu Song and the others rushed forward in alarm. Should Zhang Jiao truly answer, the Yellow Turbans might survive, plunging the Han into greater chaos.

Moreover, Liu Yao’s actions, if misunderstood, could lead to accusations of collusion with the enemy. Not only might the Yellow Turbans escape destruction, but Liu Yao himself would face grave trouble. Though his life might not be at risk, his official rank would surely be lost.

Liu Yao waved his hand, his tone resolute. “It matters not. I have made my decision.”

Huangfu Song hesitated for a long time, then gritted his teeth and said, “Your Highness, forgive me, but I cannot agree to this course. If—”

Before Huangfu Song could finish, Liu Yao drew the Serpent-Slaying Sword from his waist, raising it high with an imposing air. “The Red Cloud Sword is here! Anyone who dares speak further shall be executed on the spot.”

Seeing the Serpent-Slaying Sword, all fell silent. Their lives were paramount, and the sword granted the right to execute first and report later. Should they anger Liu Yao, none would pity them if they were slain.

Unlike Huangfu Song, Cao Cao and the others wore worried expressions. Meanwhile, the brothers Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu’s faces were filled with gloating. They secretly hoped Zhang Jiao would answer Liu Yao’s question. If Liu Yao were stripped of office, it would be a stroke of fortune for the Yuan clan.

All the Yellow Turban soldiers on the wall, upon hearing Liu Yao’s offer, were thrilled. Their eyes shone with hope as they looked at Zhang Jiao, wishing he would answer, for then their lives might be spared.

Zhang Bao, hearing Liu Yao’s words, broke out in a cold sweat. This was an open scheme—its greatest advantage over a hidden plot was that it could not be avoided. Zhang Bao now had no choice but to make a decision.

Zhang Jiao, meanwhile, stood drenched in sweat, his face bewildered as he looked at Zhang Bao. Fortunately, no one saw his expression, or all would have been astounded.

Yet Liu Yao and Guo Jia caught everything, and a slight smile appeared on their lips.

Zhang Bao knew well that this “Zhang Jiao” was a fake. His real name was Ye Yuan, originally a destitute scholar from Julu. It was pure luck that Zhang Jiao had found him.

When Zhang Jiao first began his movement, he needed to spread the Yellow Turban faith in his hometown, Julu. Ye Yuan, a bookish recluse, cared for nothing but reading, neglecting even his wife and children. With no one to work the fields, the family soon faced starvation.

Just then, Zhang Jiao arrived in Ye Yuan’s village, spreading his teachings and providing some grain, earning Ye Yuan’s deep gratitude. Notably, Ye Yuan’s appearance was almost identical to Zhang Jiao—so much so that even Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang, his closest kin, could barely tell them apart.

Thus, Zhang Jiao decided to use Ye Yuan as his double. Ye Yuan understood that he was to serve as a decoy, risking death in Zhang Jiao’s place. Yet, out of gratitude, he agreed, requesting only books to read. Zhang Jiao readily consented, and so the imposter now stood atop the city wall.

Zhang Bao was at a loss. If Ye Yuan spoke, their deception would surely be exposed. If he kept silent, the eager faces of the Yellow Turbans around him would see Zhang Jiao’s image collapse.

It must be remembered that Zhang Jiao had gathered these followers with promises of food, shelter, and clothing—a better life. Thus, they revered him as a god. Now, the prospect of salvation was within reach, requiring only a single answer from Zhang Jiao.

Regardless of whether Zhang Jiao could answer correctly, if he refused even to speak, his divine image would instantly crumble. A god who cannot bring happiness is no god at all.

Liu Yao looked at the three sweating figures atop the wall and sneered, fanning the flames. “What’s wrong, Zhang Jiao? Don’t you see your followers looking to you in hope? Or is it that your Yellow Turban teachings are nothing but deception?”

“You’re talking nonsense! Liu Yao, what is your question? Speak, and I shall answer!” Zhang Bao, flustered by Liu Yao’s provocation, jumped in.

Liu Yao glanced at Zhang Bao with contempt. “Who are you to interrupt? I am speaking to Zhang Jiao. Have you surpassed your elder brother’s status?”

“You slander me!” Zhang Bao retorted angrily. Liu Yao was clearly accusing him of usurping power. If Zhang Jiao’s loyalists believed it, they would tear him apart.

“Then step aside,” Liu Yao snapped, narrowing his eyes at Zhang Jiao. “Well, Zhang Jiao? Have you decided yet? Don’t you want to save your followers’ lives?”

He then sneered, “Or are you not Zhang Jiao at all? Is that why you dare not speak, for fear of being exposed?”

A collective shock rippled through the crowd. Doubtful eyes turned toward Zhang Jiao. Over these past days, Zhang Jiao had been uncharacteristically strange; the revered Great Teacher seemed to have vanished.

Ye Yuan, hearing Liu Yao reveal his secret, shrank back in fear, nearly collapsing. Luckily, Zhang Liang reacted swiftly, blocking him and preventing a public humiliation.

“Liu Yao, shut your mouth!” Zhang Bao, beside himself with rage, shouted down from the wall. He then turned to the Yellow Turbans: “Brothers, don’t listen to Liu Yao’s nonsense. The Great Teacher Zhang Jiao stands before you. Can’t you recognize him?”

But Zhang Bao’s words had no effect. The man before them certainly resembled the Great Teacher, but something about him was unmistakably different.