Chapter Twenty-Three: Zhang Miao's Invitation

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As the world was stirred into turmoil by the proclamation against Dong Zhuo penned by Cao Cao, he himself was in Xiangyi County, sharpening his blades and preparing for war. Suits of lamellar armor and weapons, forged in the county’s arsenal, were delivered in batches to the camp.

The weapons crafted with Wei Zi’s entire fortune were of the finest quality. The five thousand five hundred men recruited by Cao Cao, along with the retainers brought by Cao Ren and Cao Hong, were each equipped with a ring-hilted sword and a suit of lamellar armor. In the Han dynasty, the standard weapon for common soldiers was a long halberd with a wooden shaft and a steel blade. Though long, these weapons were no match for the all-steel ring-hilted swords; in close combat, a soldier wielding such a sword could often cut down several halberd-bearers. The reason was simple: the halberd’s shaft was ordinary wood, easily severed by a strong man with one stroke—leaving no chance to continue the fight.

As for the armor, it was the standard Han military lamellar: strips of wood strung together and wrapped around the chest and abdomen. It offered some protection in hand-to-hand combat, but against experts like Liao Hua, who had mastered the art of refining essence into energy, it was useless—let alone for the likes of Cao Hong, Cao Ren, or Xiahou Yuan.

Cao Cao divided his five thousand men into five units: Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Cao Ren, and Wei Zi each led a unit of a thousand, in accordance with Han military regulations. A unit of a thousand was commanded by a colonel, sometimes assisted by a deputy scribe. Each unit was divided into five companies of two hundred, each with a company leader. Each company had two platoons of one hundred, led by a platoon commander. Each platoon contained two squads of fifty, each led by a squad leader. Each squad was divided into five files of ten, led by a file leader, and each file into two groups of five, each with a group leader. This structure facilitated efficient management.

The final unit was led directly by Cao Cao, with a deputy scribe. This scribe was not Cao Hong, but a small-statured man named Yue Jin, styled Wenqian, twenty years old, under 170 centimeters tall, compact and fierce, a native of Yuzhou, adept at refining energy into spirit, and superb in martial skill. Only the combined efforts of peers like Cao Ren and Shi Huan could fight him to a standstill.

The remaining five hundred men were chosen as the elite among the five thousand five hundred, led directly by the masters at the peak of refining energy into spirit, Cao Chun and Cao Hong, serving as Cao Cao’s personal guard. Since receiving their weapons, the five thousand five hundred men trained relentlessly under their respective commanders, without pause even in the depths of winter. No one complained, for Cao Cao was generous with his rewards, distributing treasures from the coffers of Cao Ren and Cao Hong with an open hand. The camp’s quartermasters, brought by Cao Hong, contributed greatly as well.

Day by day, letters arrived for Cao Cao—messages from various local powers pledging support. Among them were Yuan Shao, Sun Jian, Han Fu, and Yuan Shu. Their intentions varied: Sun Jian and Yuan Shu promised to attack Luoyang from the south, while Yuan Shao and the northern factions would first rendezvous with Cao Cao at Chenliu. Cao Cao replied to all who wished to join him, saying that Chenliu was the domain of Zhang Miao and all matters there would be handled by him. Cao Cao merely summoned the men; Zhang Miao was the true host. This news put Zhang Miao and his brother at ease, lessening their resentment over Cao Cao’s call to arms.

These matters reached Cao Hong’s ears, but he paid them little mind. He was consumed with strengthening his cultivation. Since his private heart-to-heart with Cao Cao, he sensed a change in Cao Cao’s attitude; otherwise, he would not have been kept so close. Determined to impress, Cao Hong focused on raising his martial prowess under Cao Cao’s very eyes. The task of training the five hundred personal guards he delegated entirely to Cao Chun, devoting himself solely to the internal arts and conserving his energy.

At this time, snow fell thickly in Xiangyi. Bare-chested in the courtyard, Cao Hong practiced the "Lion and Tiger Technique," snowflakes settling on him and melting only slowly from his body heat. He was steadily refining his vital energy, striving step by step toward the highest realm of martial arts—where spirit returns to the void.

"Let the breath flow through Ren and Du, dissipate through the bones, and gather again in the dantian, condensing into emptiness." Each strike and stance was painstakingly slow, as if weighed down by a massive stone. Blood surged through his veins, but his muscles contracted, refusing to let the heat escape. His pores, under the stimulus of the cold, shrank as tightly as possible, preventing the heat from escaping. With nowhere to vent, the warmth turned inward, nourishing his organs and making them robust. The organs, being the body’s core, once fortified, could condense energy throughout the body. With such control, his strength would reach perfection, his bursts of power growing ever more formidable. At the peak, the five senses would penetrate all, allowing insight into the void. Cao Hong was on the verge of this breakthrough.

Sheng Meizhen, clad in fine garments, leaned against the doorway watching him practice, her thoughts turning inward: “Since that headache, my husband has been so diligent, his cultivation soaring. Who knows when he’ll reach his limit? Perhaps he’ll soon surpass my little junior sister!” With this, she thought of Ulan, the young girl from the northern grasslands, who was so gifted she could create her own martial techniques and advance rapidly in skill—a favorite of both master and uncle.

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Yet, in Sheng Meizhen’s eyes, no matter how formidable a woman may be, a good husband is what truly matters. In recent days, Cao Hong’s newfound prowess in their bedchamber had brought her endless delight, though she found it exhausting. Her cheeks flushed as she wondered, “Should I find my husband a concubine? If he keeps this up, though it is pleasurable, it may well be my undoing.”

Cao Hong’s expertise in such matters spanned nearly two millennia and drew from both Eastern and Western traditions—a challenge indeed for Sheng Meizhen to withstand.

“Hah!” With a mighty shout, Cao Hong startled her from her reverie. Steam billowed from his entire body, instantly melting the snowflakes on his skin. Around his feet, the snow vanished in a square six feet across, a testament to the heat he radiated.

Sheng Meizhen immediately brought him a bowl of tea and asked, “Husband, how do you fare?” Though skilled in the martial arts, her understanding of their deeper principles was limited, and she had never seen such a training method before.

Cao Hong shook his head with a sigh. “Just a little more and I could drive the vital energy into my organs, making them strong enough to condense energy. But my muscles are not yet dense enough, and trying to block the pores with cold is like forcing the crop to grow—ultimately, I cannot hold in the heat, and the effort is wasted. Still, my meridians are better nourished and stronger than before.”

Sheng Meizhen smiled, “You progress so quickly, husband. There’s no need to be so impatient.”

Cao Hong’s expression grew grave. “In two days it will be the Laba Festival. After the new year, battle after battle is sure to come. If I am not skilled, how can I protect myself?”

As he spoke, a servant arrived to announce that Liao Hua, Big Eye, and Second Ma were asking for an audience. Since Cao Cao divided his forces, these three had been assigned to the elite five hundred under Cao Chun’s training, rarely leaving the camp. Their visit now must be for an important reason. After asking for his clothes, Cao Hong received them in the main hall.

After enduring Cao Chun’s rigorous training, Big Eye and Second Ma’s demeanor had begun to change; though they had not yet transformed brute strength into true force or reached the level of refining essence into energy, they were much hardier than before. Liao Hua, being younger and more advanced, had received special instruction from Cao Chun, and his cultivation was already of the highest order—his vital energy restrained, his body well nourished. Cao Hong, observing this, silently praised Cao Chun’s skill in training troops, but asked aloud, “Did Zi He send you?”

Liao Hua, as the most capable, spoke up, “Indeed, Young Master Zi He sent us. The Prefect Zhang and his brother invite our lord to Chenliu County in two days for the Laba Festival. All the generals are busy training and cannot leave, so…”

“So Zi He sent you three to accompany me and the lord to Chenliu County?” Cao Hong asked with a smile.

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Liao Hua replied with a sheepish grin, “Exactly. The lord wanted Young Master Zi He to go, but he’s too occupied with drilling the troops. So you’re the only master left who can command respect.”

Cao Hong nodded. “Very well. When do we depart?”

Liao Hua replied, “Time is short. The lord says we leave in an hour.”

Cao Hong nodded. “Alright. Go to Wei Zi for horses. In an hour, we’ll call on the lord at his residence.” As all horses were under Wei Zi’s management during this time of war preparation, this instruction was necessary.

The three went off, and after briefing Sheng Meizhen, she fussed over him before helping him pack his things. When all was ready, Liao Hua and the others brought the horses. Cao Hong led the three to invite Cao Cao, and upon reaching his residence, saw the carriage already prepared, driven by Shi Huan, Cao Ren’s right-hand man. Cao Hong recalled that Shi Huan had been assigned as scribe over a thousand men in his unit, and his presence here as driver showed Cao Cao’s regard for him.

Besides Shi Huan, twenty mounted guards flanked each side of the carriage, clad in lamellar armor and wielding the finest long weapons from Cao Hong’s martial hall—clearly there to ensure Cao Cao’s safety.

After a brief greeting, Cao Cao poked his head from the carriage and smiled, “Zilian, let’s go.”

Cao Hong nodded, gave a shout, and led the way. With twenty-four riders and a carriage, they set off into the wind and snow.