Life in Yongzhou and Liangzhou was harsh, sparse, and endlessly repetitive.
Jian Yong had been here for more than half a year now. At some point, without really noticing, he had settled into it. The easy elegance he carried everywhere had picked up something rougher around the edges, a quality that seemed native to this frontier land. It sat somewhere between a wandering swordsman and an old border veteran. You could see it in the way he walked, in the way he carried himself, and in the way he could fill a room without needing to say much at all.
Ma Chao's followers seemed to like it.
After giving the matter some serious thought, Ma Chao had summarized Jian Yong with a single sentence:
"Master Jian isn't like those other scholars."
Jian Yong could not argue with that.
Following Liu Bei for so many years had given him an education like no other, the kind you could not get from any book.
He had watched snow fall over Liaodong until his beard froze stiff with ice. He had crossed the pestilent lands of Jiaozhou, where the air itself felt poisonous. He had stood beside the eastern sea and watched whales surface beyond the waves like drifting mountains. He had looked upon the towering ranges surrounding Yizhou, mountains so vast they seemed capable of holding up the heavens.
He had also witnessed moments that left permanent marks on a man.
He had seen Lü Bu die with all his ambitions unfinished, struggling for breath atop a city gate tower. He had watched Cao Cao claw his way upward again and again, turning every setback into another stepping stone. He had stood beneath the burning sky of Red Cliffs as flames consumed the river and turned the night bright as day.
And then there had been the light screen.
That strange light above Gong'an had changed everything. Ever since it appeared, the world somehow felt both larger and smaller at the same time, and no one could quite explain why.
Because of all that, when Jian Yong arrived in Yongzhou-Liangzhou at the beginning of the year and encountered the various attempts to intimidate him, his reaction had been surprisingly mild.
In fact, he felt a touch nostalgic.
Compared to some of the things he had already lived through, these attempts to intimidate him were not particularly impressive. He had seen better. He had seen worse. This lot sat comfortably in the middle, like lukewarm porridge.
Back then, Ma Chao had briefly considered keeping Jian Yong as a hostage in case Liu Bei decided not to honor his promises. A little insurance. A little leverage.
Then news from Hanzhong arrived.
After reading the reports of how Liu Bei's army had smashed Cao Cao's forces to pieces, Ma Chao immediately abandoned the hostage idea. He decided instead that returning Jian Yong would make an excellent gesture of goodwill. See? I am trustworthy. Look how magnanimous I am. The thought pleased him enormously.
Instead, he suggested remaining in Yongzhou-Liangzhou to help Ma Chao understand the political situation clearly enough to resist Cao Cao's influence.
Someone had to do it.
And Ma Chao was hopeless. His ability to read war and politics was, to put it kindly, still a work in progress. To put it less kindly, the man had no clue what he was doing, and it was only a matter of time before that lack of understanding got someone killed.
Looking back, Jian Yong remained very satisfied with that decision.
If he had returned to Hanzhong immediately, Sima Yi would have remained in Yongzhou-Liangzhou with far too much freedom. That man needed watching. Constant watching.
After months of reading the records shown by the light screen, Jian Yong had developed a healthy respect for Sima Yi. Not the warm kind of respect you give a friend. The cold kind you give a venomous snake that you have learned to identify and keep at a safe distance.
Jian Yong could feel that Sima Yi was dangerous even without the man announcing it. He did not need to shout or threaten. He did not need to brandish weapons. His danger was quiet, patient, and all the more terrifying for it.
He was the sort of person who could sell you into slavery while you stood there smiling, and you would even help him count the money.
Jian Yong had explained this concern to Ma Chao repeatedly. Patiently. Using words simple enough for a child to understand.
Fortunately, Ma Chao's decisiveness worked in his favor this time. The man never liked delaying decisions. It was both his greatest strength and his most alarming flaw, depending entirely on the situation.
The very same night, Ma Chao had Sima Yi detained and shipped off to Hanzhong before anyone had the chance to overthink the matter. No meetings. No debates. No second-guessing. Just action. Quick, brutal, and effective.
When Liu Bei's reply arrived, it was written in his own hand. The tone was warm enough that the ink itself seemed to glow on the page.
As for the incident involving Cao Cao's envoy leaking information to Han Sui's camp and triggering Yan Xing's furious complaints from hundreds of miles away, Ma Chao barely considered it worth discussing. A minor annoyance. A barking dog with no teeth.
After spending six months listening to Jian Yong explain politics, strategy, and human nature over tea and late-night conversations, Ma Chao had developed a completely new perspective on Yan Xing.
The man could fight. Nobody questioned that.
He had courage. He had loyalty. He had strong fists that could punch through a wooden door without breaking.
Unfortunately, those fists appeared to be doing the thinking as well. The brain had checked out years ago and never came back. It was like having a weapon with no one to aim it.
Ma Chao genuinely struggled to remember why he had once regarded Yan Xing as a serious political mind. Had he been drunk? Had the sun been too hot? Had some kind of temporary madness clouded his judgment?
After careful reflection, he decided that being drunk was probably the most reasonable explanation. Nothing else made sense.
"Master Jian, is something happening?"
Pang De watched Jian Yong striding across the compound and immediately grew curious.
The man rarely wasted movement. If he was heading somewhere, there was usually a reason.
Jian Yong nodded, his pace brisk but unhurried. He rolled back one sleeve slightly and gestured for Pang De to walk beside him.
A small gesture, but a familiar one.
Walk with me. I have something to discuss.
"Have you been spending time with the horses again, Lingming?"
A faint flush crept up Pang De's neck.
Master Jian had a remarkable talent for making things sound more respectable than they really were.
What Pang De had actually been doing was galloping across open ground because he enjoyed it. The wind in his face, the pounding of hooves beneath him, the simple pleasure of speed. There had been no deeper purpose.
Yet somehow, when Jian Yong said it, it sounded like serious training.
"Yes," Pang De answered without hesitation. "I've been spending time with the horses."
Jian Yong nodded approvingly.
"A general who remains attentive to current affairs while still maintaining his condition. Admirable."
Pang De fought the urge to straighten his back.
Every time.
The man could say the simplest thing and somehow make you feel as though you had accomplished something worthy of recognition.
Then Jian Yong smoothly steered the conversation toward business.
"The Marquis sent word."
His expression remained relaxed.
"He received news that the Administrator of Hanzhong has entered Yongzhou and Liangzhou in pursuit of bandits."
Pang De blinked.
"Bandits?"
Jian Yong glanced at him.
"An impressive number of bandits."
For a moment, Pang De stared.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I see." No, he absolutely did not.
But after spending months around Jian Yong, he had learned that whenever military movements involving tens of thousands of soldiers were described as "pursuing bandits," it was generally best to wait for the rest of the explanation.
Ma Chao's quarters came into view before the conversation had run its course.
The moment they stepped inside, Ma Chao looked up. His eyes were already shining, bright and intent, like a wolf that had finally caught the scent of prey.
"Master Jian!" Ma Chao called out before Jian Yong had even fully crossed the threshold. "Now that General Zhang Yide has entered Yongzhou and Liangzhou, we can join forces and move against Han Sui. His end cannot be far off."
Jian Yong merely raised an eyebrow. He recognized that expression immediately.
It was the face of a man who had spent far too long carrying a grudge, the kind that ate at you from the inside like a slow poison.
Ever since the Jingzhou-Xiangyang campaign, stories of Guan Yu's victories had spread across the realm like wildfire. Merchants repeated them at every stop. Travelers carried them from county to county. Before long, the tales had grown into legends that grew bigger with every telling.
Ma Chao had listened to every single one of them.
And every time he did, something sour twisted in his chest, a low green flame that refused to die.
If Han Sui had not been standing in the way at the crucial moment, Tongguan might have become Cao Cao's grave. Ma Chao was certain of that. Absolutely certain. He had replayed the battle in his head a thousand times.
Instead, Ma Chao had been driven westward into Yongzhou and Liangzhou like a fox chased by hounds, spending months struggling to keep his position from collapsing entirely. It was humiliating. It was infuriating. It was not how the story was supposed to go.
The more he thought about it, the more irritating it became. The wound festered.
And after six months of listening to Master Jian, he now understood clearly that Yan Xing was halfway over to Cao Cao's side already, a turncoat in waiting who had been smiling at him while sharpening his knives.
"Yan Xing," Ma Chao muttered, almost to himself. "That man was standing next to me at Tongguan. He saw what happened. He saw everything. And now he is cozying up to the enemy?"
Jian Yong said nothing. He did not need to. Ma Chao was working through it on his own.
Ma Chao continued, pacing now like a caged tiger. "Han Sui is old. He has lost his grip on everything. Yongzhou and Liangzhou have been overdue for new management for a long time. The region needs fresh blood, not a senile old man who cannot decide which side he is on from one day to the next."
He stopped pacing and turned to Jian Yong, his eyes burning with conviction.
"If I had been the one commanding the coalition at Tongguan instead of sharing control with that indecisive fossil, would I have lost?"
Jian Yong could see exactly what was written on Ma Chao's face, bold as a banner, and he did not try to redirect it. Some hopes needed room to breathe.
Instead, he walked over to the map and studied the rough lines scratched across the sheepskin. A faint pang of longing stirred in him.
The light screen had spoiled him.
Back there, he could zoom in, zoom out, examine elevation, trace roads, and watch troop movements unfold across entire regions. Here, he had charcoal markings and someone's best approximation of reality.
"General Han Wenyue is old," Jian Yong said slowly, tracing a line across the map with his finger.
"But he still holds the title General Who Conquers the West. And he has not been idle during that career. He was among those who eliminated Li Jue. Later he fought alongside you in the campaign against the Southern Xiongnu."
He turned and offered Ma Chao a respectful bow at that point, not a shallow one but a real one. The kind that said, I know what you did last summer, and it mattered.
Ma Chao straightened slightly, a satisfied look spreading across his face like sunrise.
"Because of all this," Jian Yong continued, letting the words settle, "General Han Sui carries genuine standing in the Yongzhou-Liangzhou region, and there is no deep personal enmity between the two of you. If you move against him in anger and cut him down, Zhang Yide will certainly provide full support. That much I can promise. But would that not put you in a morally indefensible position?"
He paused, letting the question hang. "And more importantly, would that not make you look like the aggressor?"
Ma Chao chewed on this, rolling the words around in his head like tough meat. Master Jian was probably not wrong. He usually was not.
"You know," Ma Chao said slowly, "by the customs of the Qiang and Hu, killing him would solve the problem immediately."
He shrugged.
"Cut off the head, and the body dies. Ten years later, nobody remembers why it happened."
His voice was matter-of-fact.
"That is simply how things work on the frontier."
Jian Yong nodded.
"But you are not a Qiang chieftain, Marquis."
His tone remained calm.
"Your ancestor, General Ma Fubo, built a reputation that stands alongside the heroes of the Cloud Terrace. The Ma family has served the Han for generations. That means holding yourself to Han standards, not frontier standards."
He stepped closer.
"Yongzhou and Liangzhou already produced Dong Zhuo," Jian Yong said softly. "The rest of the realm has not forgiven this region for that disgrace."
His eyes remained fixed on Ma Chao, holding him in place.
"You are the hero now. You are the standard-bearer of Yongzhou and Liangzhou. A descendant of renowned generals. If even you conduct yourself like a tribal chieftain, then tell me. How are the people of Yongzhou and Liangzhou supposed to hold their heads high?"
Ma Chao was silent for a long moment.
Standard-bearer of Yongzhou and Liangzhou.
Those words lodged in his chest like an arrow he did not want to pull out. Maybe because pulling it out meant admitting who shot it.
"Master Jian," Ma Chao said finally, his voice quieter than usual, "that cuts right through the problem."
His sincerity was real. Something had clicked into place.
But inside, another voice whispered.
I always told myself the deep grievance was between Han Sui and my father. That I was just carrying it. That I was not responsible.
But I was the one who raised the banner. I was the one who knew what would happen to my family in Ye. I made that choice. And I have spent every day since blaming everyone except myself.
And maybe, just maybe, let yourself be the standard-bearer that Master Jian believes you can be. Not because you deserve it. But because someone has to be. And you have already lost too much to waste the chance.
Ma Chao let out a quiet breath.
Maybe it is time to put down that backpack.
Jian Yong watched the shift in his face and smiled slightly. He did not need to know what Ma Chao had been thinking. The fact that something had changed was enough.
,
"You give me too much credit," Jian Yong said, waving a hand dismissively. "You would have reached the same conclusion eventually."
He glanced toward Pang De.
"General Lingming would certainly have pointed it out before long."
Pang De immediately sat a little straighter.
Jian Yong had an uncanny talent. A few casual words, and everyone around him somehow felt wiser, more capable, and more important than they had a moment earlier. He handed out praise the way other men handed out sweets, freely and without expecting anything in return.
He continued without pausing.
"The realm knows Cao Cao for what he is," Jian Yong said. "A traitor to the Han. When his armies entered Guanzhong, you were the first to raise the banner against him. In the eyes of the world, the reputation of a loyal Han subject is already yours."
He paused, letting the words land.
"By contrast, General Han has been quietly communicating with Cao Cao's side. Sending letters. Exchanging gifts. Testing the waters. Now that the Administrator of Hanzhong Zhang Yide has arrived, I would ask you not to withhold your military support."
Ma Chao leaned forward.
"Stand beside the Administrator of Hanzhong and ask Han Wenyue the question publicly."
"Let both armies hear his answer."
"Let everyone see whether he chooses the Han or Cao Cao."
A faint smile touched Jian Yong's lips.
"If he wishes to ruin himself, there is no need for us to help him."
He met Ma Chao's eyes directly.
"The Administrator of Hanzhong Zhang Yide will respond with grain and supplies for your men. He will send you materiel of real value in recognition of your service. Weapons. Armor. Things that matter." Jian Yong held his gaze. "That I can promise."
Ma Chao slapped his knee. The sound echoed off the walls like a gunshot.
"Done!" He was grinning now, wide and genuine. "I am in."
He sat back, shaking his head in wonder.
"Master Jian, when you explain things, the whole matter suddenly becomes simple."
His laughter filled the room.
"One commitment, and I keep my reputation, replenish my supplies, weaken my enemies, and keep a clear conscience." He laughed again. "I cannot remember the last time marching to war felt this comfortable. I am not even going to need to fight hard. Just show up. Look threatening. Let Zhang Yide do the heavy lifting."
He looked at Jian Yong with genuine admiration.
"You know, I genuinely envy Liu Bei sometimes. How many capable people does that man have working for him?" He shook his head. "It is not fair. It is honestly not fair at all."
---
The years of constant warfare had hollowed out Guanzhong like a rotten log, and Yongzhou-Liangzhou had suffered the same slow decline. The land simply could not support a rapid recovery, and even before politics entered the equation, the logistical reality of Han Sui's position was obvious. Armies marched on grain, and there was only so much grain left to give.
So when Zhang Fei came pressing forward with twenty-five thousand men, advancing with the momentum of someone who had no intention of slowing down, Han Sui made his decision. He suppressed Yan Xing's increasingly vocal objections, voluntarily withdrew his forces from Qishan City as a gesture of goodwill, concentrated his best troops around Xi County, and sent word that he was willing to negotiate.
The talks that followed were considerably less dramatic than the confrontation with Yan Xing. No one drew a weapon. Nobody got punched in the face. No horses died in memorable fashion. But that did not mean the process went smoothly.
After the first day, Zhang Fei returned to camp looking like a man who had spent the afternoon chewing gravel before washing it down with vinegar.
"Give me Yan Xing back," he growled as he dropped into a chair. "At least with him I can settle things properly."
Zhang Fei actually had a fairly high opinion of his own ability to persuade people. In some respects, he would happily compare himself to the strategists. He could be charming when he wanted to be. He could be persuasive when the situation required it. And he possessed a voice powerful enough to command the attention of an entire battlefield.
The problem was that negotiations came with rules.
Stupid rules.
You could not question the other man's ancestry. You could not compare him to livestock. Terms such as bandit, savage, and lowlife were apparently considered unacceptable.
By the end of the day, Zhang Fei felt as though he had been asked to fight with both arms tied behind his back and a bag over his head.
So on the second day, Pang Tong took his place across the table.
---
Han Sui watched the new arrival settle into the seat opposite him. Younger than he had expected. Calmer too. The man moved with the unhurried confidence of someone who had already decided how this would end.
"Master Pang Tong," Han Sui said, his voice flat. "I have heard of you. The strategist who convinced Liu Bei to take Yizhou. The man who turned a refugee army into a kingdom."
Pang Tong inclined his head. "You are well informed, General."
"I make it my business to know who I am dealing with." Han Sui's eyes flicked to the shield-bearers flanking Pang Tong. "Though I confess, I did not expect you to bring an escort to a negotiation."
"Forgive me," Pang Tong said, his tone perfectly pleasant. "I have a healthy respect for the uncertainties of frontier diplomacy."
Han Sui let out a short laugh. It was not a warm sound. "Frontier diplomacy. Is that what we are calling it now? You march an army into my territory, and I am supposed to pretend this is a friendly discussion between equals?"
"I am not pretending anything, General." Pang Tong's smile did not waver. "I am simply acknowledging reality."
"Whose reality?"
"The one we both share." Pang Tong spread his hands. "Yongzhou-Liangzhou is vast, but its population is thin. You have soldiers, yet not enough grain to sustain them. We, meanwhile, move freely along the Qishan Road. Hanzhong and Yizhou have been spared the worst of the wars. Together they hold more than a million people and grain stores beyond our immediate needs." He tilted his head slightly. "If we chose to destroy your position, the cost to us would be negligible."
Han Sui felt his chest tighten. The words landed exactly where they were meant to.
But he had not survived decades in the northwest by folding at the first sign of pressure.
"You speak as though the outcome is already decided," Han Sui said slowly. "But talk is cheap, Master Pang. I have been in this game long enough to know that plans rarely survive contact with reality."
He leaned back, forcing his posture to remain relaxed.
"You have infantry. Good infantry. I will grant you that. But you lack cavalry. A handful of mounted troops is one thing. Matching the horsemen of Yongzhou-Liangzhou is another." He let the words hang. "If I withdraw to Jincheng, avoid a decisive confrontation, and wait for circumstances to change, what will you do then? Time favors the patient."
To his surprise, Pang Tong laughed.
It was not a mocking laugh, nor a dismissive one. It sounded genuinely amused, as though Han Sui had confirmed something he had expected all along.
"That is precisely what we hoped you would do," Pang Tong replied.
Han Sui's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"We would prefer that General Han fulfill his responsibilities as General Who Conquers the West and proceed to Jincheng to deal with the unrest there. Not as a defeated man in retreat, but as a commander carrying out his duty to the dynasty."
Pang Tong's smile widened slightly.
"Since you cannot win this contest anyway, why not preserve your strength for something that matters? Go west. Expand the Han's authority. Bring order where it is lacking. Make yourself indispensable."
The conversation had shifted so smoothly that Han Sui almost missed what had happened. Pang Tong had taken the same course of action Han Sui intended to follow and reframed it entirely. Retreat had become duty. Survival had become service.
Han Sui studied the man across from him with new eyes.
"You are very good at this," he said finally. "I have been in this game for decades. I have negotiated with warlords, imperial envoys, and kings of the Qiang. I have never met anyone who could turn my own retreat into their favor so smoothly."
"Thank you, General. I take that as a compliment."
"It was not meant as one."
Pang Tong's smile did not waver. "I know."
Han Sui let out a slow breath. He was being outmaneuvered, and he knew it. But he was not ready to admit defeat yet. Not publicly. Not without pushing back at least once more.
"When we arrived," Pang Tong continued, "our lord spoke highly of your past contributions. The Administrator of Wuwei who murdered the Inspector of Yongzhou and raised rebellion against the Han was ultimately suppressed through your efforts. That was a genuine service to the dynasty, and no one can honestly deny it."
Han Sui's expression flickered. That was a reference to a campaign years ago. A bloody one. One that had cost him men he still remembered by name.
"You mention that as though it matters," Han Sui said quietly. "Do you truly believe the dynasty still has meaning? Cao Cao holds the Emperor in his pocket. The Han is a name, nothing more."
Pang Tong's expression did not change. "A name can still carry weight, General. Especially in the hands of those who know how to use it."
Han Sui was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a bitter laugh.
"You are telling me that if I cooperate, I will keep my title, my army, and my dignity. And if I resist, I will lose all three." He shook his head. "That is not a negotiation, Master Pang. That is an ultimatum delivered with a smile."
Pang Tong inclined his head slightly. "I prefer to think of it as a generous offer."
"And if I find this offer genuinely intolerable?"
Pang Tong's smile widened, just a fraction.
"Then we can simply start fighting right now. The Administrator of Hanzhong received new weapons this year called modao blades and has been looking for an opportunity to use them." He paused. "He is very eager for combat. Almost disturbingly so."
"If you lose the engagement, and you will lose the engagement, you would have a perfectly legitimate reason to withdraw to Jincheng. Your honor would remain intact. You would simply have been... defeated by a superior force."
Han Sui's attention sharpened.
"Modao?" He leaned forward slightly. "What is that?"
He had expected evasion. He had expected Pang Tong to dodge the question or change the subject or admit that the whole thing was an invented threat designed to intimidate him. That was what he would have done in Pang Tong's position.
Instead, Pang Tong actually paused the negotiation. He turned and made a small gesture to someone outside.
Han Sui followed his gaze.
And then he saw them.
A formation of just over three hundred men. Zhang Fei at the front, unmistakable even from a distance, his massive frame dominating the line. The soldiers wore simple chest armor over their upper bodies, nothing elaborate or flashy. Functional. Practical.
What drew the eye was the weapons.
Every man in that formation carried a long-hafted blade unlike anything Han Sui had seen before. Standing upright, the weapon topped Zhang Fei's height by at least a hand span. The lower portion was wrapped handle. The rest, the majority of the weapon's length, was cutting edge, a single sweeping curve of steel that caught the afternoon light like still water.
Han Sui stared for a long moment.
"You are serious," he said quietly.
Pang Tong nodded. "Each blade is forged in Yizhou using a restricted method. One modao costs one hundred thousand coins."
Han Sui did not respond immediately. He was still studying the formation, his experienced eye calculating distances, angles, and the sheer mass of those blades.
"That line," Han Sui said slowly, "could cut through any cavalry charge I sent against it. The horses would see the steel and refuse to advance. Even if they did, the men would be cut down before they could close."
Pang Tong said nothing.
Han Sui let out a breath. "You are not bluffing."
"I rarely do, General. It is inefficient."
For the first time since the negotiations began, Han Sui found himself without a response. He had faced many opponents over the years. He had outmaneuvered warlords, survived betrayals, and carved out a place for himself in the most unforgiving corner of the empire.
But this man was different.
Pang Tong was not threatening him. He was not bargaining with him. He was simply laying out the facts and letting Han Sui draw his own conclusions. It was the most disarming tactic Han Sui had ever encountered.
"You are a dangerous man, Master Pang," Han Sui said finally.
"Thank you, General. I take that as a compliment."
"It was not meant as one."
"I know." Pang Tong's smile remained unchanged. "But I will take it nonetheless."
Han Sui looked past Pang Tong toward the formation outside. Zhang Fei was watching them. Waiting.
And beyond Zhang Fei, in the distance, a banner was approaching. Ma Chao's banner.
The tiger of Yongzhou-Liangzhou had chosen his side.
Han Sui let out a quiet breath, the kind of breath a man exhales when he has been holding it for a long time without realizing it.
Whether the Han dynasty would survive what was coming, he genuinely did not know. The signs were not good. But Yongzhou-Liangzhou, the land he had spent decades building his position in, the land he had bled for and fought for and schemed for, had run out of room for him.
The door had closed.
"Fine," Han Sui said quietly. "I will withdraw to Jincheng. I will deal with the unrest there. I will do my duty as General Who Conquers the West."
He met Pang Tong's eyes.
"But do not mistake this for surrender. I am not surrendering to you or to Liu Bei or to anyone. I am simply choosing the least bad option available to me."
Pang Tong nodded slowly. "That is all I ask, General."
Han Sui rose from his seat.
"I hope I never have to negotiate with you again, Master Pang."
Pang Tong smiled. "I cannot promise that, General. But I can promise that if we do, I will be just as reasonable as I have been today."
Han Sui stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned and walked away without another word.
---
Ma Chao, meanwhile, was staring at the modao formation with the expression of a man who had just been handed something beautiful and expensive and was already working out how to get more of them for himself. His eyes were bright. His mouth was slightly open.
He turned to Zhang Fei and said the first thing that came to mind, which was usually how Ma Chao operated.
"Excellent blades." He nodded toward the formation. "Form your line up and let me run a cavalry charge at it. I want to see how it holds."
Zhang Fei looked at him.
The silence stretched for a long moment.
A man who had kept himself alive through all of this, through Tongguan and the flight west and the endless skirmishes, with a brain that worked like that, was either the luckiest person in Yongzhou-Liangzhou or genuinely as dangerous as the stories said.
Probably both.
Zhang Fei scratched his beard.
"You want me to let you charge at my men with horses," he said slowly, "so you can see if our new weapons kill you."
"Yes," Ma Chao said, completely sincere.
Zhang Fei stared at him for a long moment. Then a grin spread across his face. Not a friendly grin. The kind of grin a man wears when he has just found someone as crazy as himself.
"You know," Zhang Fei said, "most people ask to see a demonstration. They want to watch from a safe distance. Maybe sit on a hill somewhere with a cup of tea."
Ma Chao shrugged. "I am not most people."
"I noticed." Zhang Fei looked him up and down. "You do realize those blades will cut through your horses like wheat, yes? Your men will be on the ground before they even hit the formation."
"I know." Ma Chao's eyes were still fixed on the modao line. "That is why I want to see it."
Zhang Fei laughed. It was a loud, barking sound that startled a few nearby soldiers.
"You are insane," Zhang Fei said. "But I like that."
Zhang Fei turned to look at Pang Tong.
Pang Tong was already walking away, shaking his head.