Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Warrior Dies for One Who Truly Understands Him

Grand Chancellor Cao Hong Lord He applies powder to his face. 2955 words 2026-04-11 10:55:20

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PS: I stayed up late last night, and when I woke up today, I was surprised to find myself on the homepage's Newcomer Rankings. Although it's only 12th place, with so many recommended accounts and new faces flying high, to land the top category push on this list was a delightful surprise. This would not have been possible without all your strong support. Now that I've reached the homepage, it wouldn’t do not to update with three chapters, so today, resolutely, there will be three updates...

Some have asked: Cao Hong has been married for a long time, so why did he only just find out his wife was Xu Deng’s disciple, and how did Cao Chun and Cao Cao also come to know? It's simple—once Cao Hong found out, he would naturally tell Cao Ren when visiting Peiguo. With Cao Ren in the know, Cao Cao and Cao Chun would naturally learn as well. Besides, even before being possessed, Cao Hong had suspected his wife of having a distinguished teacher; both her mastery of the Eight-Directional Han Sword and her martial skills were clues. With years of suspicion, the brothers and cousins of the Cao family were somewhat aware, so once it was confirmed she was Xu Deng's disciple, Cao Hong would naturally inform his kin.

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After the Cao army injured a thousand-man officer of the Eastern Commandery soldiers, they swaggered back to their own camp under Chen Gong’s guidance. This camp was situated slightly south of the main encampment’s center, neighboring the barracks of Kong Zhou, Inspector of Yuzhou, and Liu Dai, Inspector of Yanzhou. The tents within the camp were arranged in pairs, each about thirty square meters and capable of housing five men.

These tents were round with domed tops—large dome tents, used only for protracted campaigns. On a forced march, such sizable tents would never be set up, for the timber required far exceeded that of the simple triangular sleeping tents, and they were much harder to erect. During forced marches, laborers had to cover two hundred li per day; simply gathering wood for these tents would consume considerable time.

Naturally, these tents had been erected by the laborers under Zhang Miao’s command, indicating his intention to wage a long campaign.

As the generals of the Cao army entered the tents to arrange quarters for the soldiers, Chen Gong spoke to Cao Chun and Cao Hong, “Generals, my duty as your guide is done, so I shall take my leave.”

Cao Chun addressed Dian Wei: “Dian, you and your fifty men are to accompany Magistrate Chen into the city. Remember, you must ensure our lord’s safety.”

Dian Wei laughed, “Rest assured! I will protect our lord with my life.”

With that, after bidding farewell to Cao Chun and Chen Gong, Cao Hong watched as Chen Gong led Dian Wei and his fifty men away from the camp toward Suanzao County.

Watching the group depart, Cao Chun turned to Cao Hong and said, “Zilian, I know you dislike the trivialities of setting up camp. Leave your two hundred men to me; I’ll arrange for them.”

Cao Hong nodded with a smile, “Then I’ll trouble you, Zi He!”

Cao Chun chuckled and said to Liao Hua behind him, “Yuan Jian, come with me. I’ll decide on the lord’s resting place, then assign you to guard it.”

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Liao Hua replied, “Yes!”

Cao Chun was about to leave when he noticed Pan Zhang standing uncertainly by Cao Hong’s horse, staring blankly at the busy Cao soldiers. He asked Cao Hong, “Zilian, shall I arrange for this lad as well?”

Cao Hong glanced at Pan Zhang and replied, “I have more to ask him. Go ahead, Zi He.”

Cao Chun nodded, called out, and led Cao Hong’s two hundred men into the camp. He was somewhat perplexed as to why Cao Hong was intent on protecting this young man—even going so far as to argue with Qiao Mao’s officers and draw blood over it. Though the Cao family paid little heed to Qiao Mao, it seemed excessive for a mere promising youth.

“Perhaps Zilian has his own reasons,” Cao Chun thought as he entered the camp.

Cao Hong noticed that Shi A still lingered at his side. This dutiful swordsman had already assumed the role of Cao Hong’s personal guard; only if Cao Hong dismissed him would he leave, otherwise, he ignored all others. Cao Hong smiled and said, “Qingmang, my brother Zi He once served as the Chamberlain for the Palace Gates, safeguarding the nobility at court—he is well-versed in the art of protection. All the guards in my elder brother’s residence are under his charge. You might as well observe how he arranges Yuan Jian and the others to guard the lord’s camp. In the future, you will be responsible not only for my safety but also for my household’s.”

Shi A cupped his fists and replied, “Understood!” and immediately rode off.

After Shi A left, Cao Hong turned to Pan Zhang with a smile, “Wen Gui, you were born in the first year of Xiping, so you are eighteen this year. I was born in the third year of Jianning, so I’m twenty—two years your senior. In public, you may address me as ‘Young Master,’ but in private, you may call me ‘Big Brother.’”

Pan Zhang trembled all over at these words and looked up at Cao Hong. The handsome young general, clad in gleaming armor, gazed at him with a gentle, unassuming smile. Pan Zhang could hardly believe his ears.

“In public, call him ‘Young Master’; in private, ‘Big Brother.’” Pan Zhang, from a wealthy family and somewhat educated, recognized this as ‘maintaining the propriety of lord and retainer outwardly, but forging a bond as close as kin in private’—the highest favor one could show a subordinate. He had simply sought to join a stronger army to make a name for himself and perhaps take revenge on Qiao Fa, but never dreamed that this young general, whom he’d only met once, would value him so highly. His heart was moved beyond words.

Moreover, in front of everyone, Cao Hong had so resolutely protected him, showing no regard for the Eastern Commandery soldiers’ pride. Even the famed general Huangfu Song, who had put down the Yellow Turbans, lacked such spirit. That Cao Hong had displayed such heroism for his sake only deepened Pan Zhang’s emotion. His knees gave way and he knelt, head lowered, voice choked: “Pan Wen Gui swears to repay your kindness with his life!”

From youth, he had loved reading military treatises and harbored grand ambitions, determined to rise above his peers. The world was in chaos; the court had given power to officials and local gentry, who raised armies to quell rebels. So, after his father’s death, he sold his family’s assets and formed his own troop to fight against the Yellow Turbans. But his arrogance led to ruin—he was crushed by the formidable Yellow Turban general Bo Cai and severely wounded, never regaining his former vigor.

When he recovered and returned to Eastern Commandery, everything had changed—new masters ruled, and even the servant boys from his household had become officers. The blow was devastating, fueling his determination to succeed, but Qiao Mao, Prefect of Eastern Commandery, gave him no opportunity.

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Today, with his own hands, he had seized a chance—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Before him stood a kinsman of Cao Mengde, commanding the well-equipped Cao army and surrounded by heroic colleagues. Pan Zhang had seen many soldiers and knew that the likes of Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Dian Wei, Cao Chun, and Cao Hong were all first-rate generals. If only he’d known such men before, with such an army, he could have defeated Bo Cai even if outnumbered ten to one.

So when Cao Hong spoke those words of exceptional favor, Pan Zhang was overwhelmed with emotion. His heart swelled with hot blood, and he knew that as long as this general on horseback commanded, he would charge into any battle, no matter the odds.

“A man dies for one who truly knows him!” Pan Zhang recalled a saying he’d read in his youth.

Cao Hong noticed Pan Zhang’s trembling shoulders and knew the eighteen-year-old before him was moved to tears, clearly deeply touched. Smiling, he dismounted and helped Pan Zhang up, saying to the youth—who stood as tall as himself, “There’s no need to speak of dying for me. Tell me, can you read?”

Cao Hong had not witnessed Pan Zhang’s quarrel with Qiao Fa and thus knew nothing of his background.

Pan Zhang nodded, “I can, my lord. I have read Sun Tzu’s Art of War, the Book of Lord Shang, and the Military Methods of Lord Wei.”

Cao Hong, having inherited the body’s memories, was familiar with these three widely-circulated military classics. The Art of War was by Sun Bin of the Warring States, the Book of Lord Shang established Qin’s supremacy, and the Military Methods of Lord Wei was by Lord Xinling, Wei Wuji, the foremost of the Four Gentlemen of the Warring States. Each book had its merits, but their language was obscure—mere literacy was not enough to understand them. Among the Cao family generals, the most skilled in reading military texts was first Cao Cao, then Cao Ren, and then Xiahou Yuan—Cao Hong himself did not rank among them.

Hearing that Pan Zhang had read all three, Cao Hong asked, “Can you comprehend them fully?”

Pan Zhang blushed and stammered, “I recited them in my youth, but much remains unclear to me.”

Cao Hong smiled, “Good. Come with me to the camp. In a few days, I’ll have a token of welcome for you.”

Pan Zhang was taken aback, but agreed readily. Once Cao Hong mounted his horse, Pan Zhang immediately stepped forward to lead the steed, the two of them entering the camp together.