"They're finally gone…"
Zhang Xin let out a long breath and collapsed onto the ground. His injuries had yet to fully heal, and after digging through the entire night, exhaustion weighed heavily on him.
"General!" a soldier suddenly called out. "A Wuhuan rider approaches!"
Zhang Xin forced himself to his feet. In the distance, a lone Wuhuan horseman rode toward them, leading another horse at his side. The moment Zhang Xin laid eyes on it, he froze.
The horse was jet black, save for a ring of white fur circling each hoof. Its coat gleamed like polished lacquer, its muscles rippling beneath the skin—an extraordinary steed. Taller than any common Wuhuan mount, it stood nearly 1.8 meters at the shoulder, towering over the usual horses.
Even without closer inspection, it was clearly a rare and priceless warhorse.
"The Yellow Turban Commander!" the rider called out, halting ten paces from the wall. "My lord greatly admires your talent. He has sent me to deliver his personal mount as a gift."
He continued, "My lord also says that when he returns to Liucheng, he will send an envoy to Yuyang. Should you ever visit, you will be received with the highest honors."
Without waiting for a reply, the man dropped the reins of the black horse and rode off.
Zhang Xin stared after him, stunned.
"So this is from Qiuliju…"
He exhaled slowly. "A truly ruthless man."
When given the chance, Qiuliju had tried to destroy him without hesitation. Now that he couldn't, he turned around and offered friendship—without the slightest concern that Zhang Xin had just annihilated three thousand of his men.
A man like that… was terrifying.
No wonder Qiuliju, though not the strongest, could unite the Wuhuan tribes. That ability to let go of losses and shift strategies instantly—few could match it.
Zhang Xin ordered the horse brought inside.
Turning, he smiled at Guan Yu.
"Brother Yunchang, I was just saying I'd find you a good horse. What do you think of this one?"
Guan Yu shook his head. "This was gifted to you. I cannot accept it."
He had already repaid Zhang Xin by helping annihilate the Wuhuan. The war was over. It was time for him to leave.
Accepting further favors would only complicate things.
"You misunderstand," Zhang Xin insisted with a smile. "A fine horse is meant for a hero. This steed suits you perfectly."
Guan Yu frowned slightly. He was certain he had never heard such a saying before… though it sounded convincing enough.
Still, he remained firm. "Ziqing, I understand your intentions. And I respect you. But this horse—you should keep it. You will need it in future battles against the Xianbei."
Zhang Xin fell silent.
After a long pause, he said quietly, "Even if you leave, you'll need a mount. This horse is exceptional. Only you are worthy of it… please don't refuse."
But Guan Yu would not yield.
No matter how Zhang Xin urged him, he declined again and again.
Off to the side, Zuo Bao and Yang Yi watched with undisguised envy. A horse like that—who wouldn't want it? If Zhang Niujiao had been present, he would likely have cursed aloud.
At last, seeing that persuasion was futile, Zhang Xin gave up.
__
Two days later, scouts reported that Qiuliju had withdrawn into Liaoxi. Only then did Zhang Xin order a full retreat.
Before leaving, he distributed surplus food to the local villagers as thanks. Many were moved to tears.
When the army prepared to depart, Guan Yu came to take his leave.
Zhang Xin tried to persuade him to stay—but Guan Yu refused.
In that moment, Zhang Xin finally understood how Cao Cao must have felt.
Helpless, he could only insist on hosting a farewell after returning to Yuyang. Guan Yu reluctantly agreed.
__
The journey back was quiet.
Zhang Xin remained in low spirits, rarely speaking. Even upon returning to camp, his expression did not brighten.
When Zhang Niujiao learned the reason, he immediately wanted to challenge Guan Yu to a duel—only to be stopped by Zuo Bao.
__
The next day, as Zhang Xin prepared to return to the city, a soldier arrived with news:
"A scholar from the Wuzhong Tian clan seeks an audience."
Zhang Xin frowned.
The Tian family was a powerful gentry clan. Men like them did not associate with rebels—no matter their achievements.
Even if he had defeated the Wuhuan, even if he had earned merit in battle, without imperial amnesty, he was still a traitor in their eyes.
So why come now?
After a moment's thought, he said, "Invite him in."
Then he paused.
"…No. I'll go greet him myself."
In this era, reputation was everything. Courtesy toward scholars could shape one's future.
Hadn't Liu Bei risen from nothing through precisely such means?
Zhang Xin straightened his armor and stepped outside.
There stood a young man in black robes, composed and refined.
Zhang Xin bowed first.
"My name is Zhang Xin, courtesy Ziqing. May I ask your purpose in seeking me?"
The young man returned the gesture.
"My apologies. I am Tian Kai, courtesy Shifan."
Zhang Xin's pupils contracted.
"Tian Kai…?"