The letter from Niu Feng had barely been read when Zhang Xin made his move.
Without delay, he summoned his core generals—Zhao Yun, Dian Wei, Yue Jin, Zhu Ling, Xu Huang, and others. There was no grand mobilization, no drawn-out march. Taking only a small retinue of personal guards, Zhang Xin departed Mengjin at once, crossing the great river and returning to Zhi County before slipping into River East through Zhi Pass like a blade in the dark.
Behind him, Yu Jin would lead the main force of Xuzhou soldiers.
Originally, Zhang Xin had considered repeating his earlier triumph—the maneuver through Zhi Pass or Qinshui Valley that crushed the White Wave Yellow Turbans. A sudden strike into River East, swift and decisive.
But he abandoned the plan.
This time, the enemy was ready.
Dong Zhuo had already stationed Niu Fu in Anyi with five thousand troops. In history, that force had been meant to guard against Guo Da—but Guo Da was long dead. The intent now was obvious.
It was Zhang Xin they were waiting for.
Zhi Pass was treacherous terrain. Narrow paths, steep cliffs—difficult for men, impossible for supply lines. If Niu Fu blocked the exit with even a thousand soldiers, Zhang Xin's army would be trapped like prey in a cage.
Could he instead gather the remnants of the White Wave forces in Pingyang and strike from another route?
No.
Too many men. Too much movement. Niu Fu was no fool—such mobilization would be seen instantly. And once discovered, those poorly equipped Yellow Turban remnants would become nothing more than easy merit for Xiliang troops.
So Zhang Xin chose patience.
He instructed Niu Feng only to quietly gather provisions and prepare. Time was on their side.
Or so he thought.
Wang Meng had other ideas.
"Recruit the old White Wave men," he told Niu Feng calmly. "Prepare for war."
Niu Feng hesitated. "From Anyi to Linfen is barely two hundred li. Niu Fu can be here in three days. If we gather troops and he strikes—how do we resist?"
Wang Meng only smiled.
"I have a way to keep him from coming."
"How?"
"Cannot say."
No matter how much Niu Feng pressed, Wang Meng refused to reveal his plan. All he asked for was one hundred gold.
After a long moment of thought, Niu Feng agreed.
He had seen Wang Meng's ability. Without him, the governance of Pingyang would have collapsed long ago. If Zhang Xin was the pillar—then Wang Meng was the mind behind the order.
The gold was given.
The recruitment began.
What followed stunned everyone.
From the hills and villages, the former White Wave Yellow Turbans answered the call. Not reluctantly—but eagerly.
Men melted their farming tools into crude spears. They brought their own grain, their own weapons. They asked for no pay.
Only one thing:
"To repay the Young General's kindness."
When Niu Feng heard this, his eyes turned red.
Yet beneath the pride was fear.
What if they were ambushed? What if these loyal people were slaughtered?
But as Wang Meng had promised—
Niu Fu did nothing.
No scouts. No attack. No response.
By the time over ten thousand men had gathered, River East remained silent.
Niu Feng laughed in disbelief and immediately sent word to Zhang Xin.
Three days into the first month, Zhang Xin arrived at Pingyang.
But what he found was… strange.
No signs of a massive army.
No scars of battle.
No chaos.
"Could Niu Fu have already defeated Niu Feng?" he wondered.
Yet the city was intact.
Something didn't add up.
He sent a guard to investigate.
Half an hour later, the man returned, breathless with excitement.
"Lord! County Lord Niu has already defeated Niu Fu outside Anyi!"
Zhang Xin froze.
"…What?"
"Niu Fu has retreated to Chang'an! County Lord Niu is now advancing toward Puban Ford to seize the crossing!"
Zhang Xin stared.
Then burst out:
"Holy hell—"
That useless scout captain… defeated Niu Fu?
Even if Niu Fu was mediocre, he was still Dong Zhuo's son-in-law, a commander of elite troops.
And Niu Feng?
A former peasant. A man who couldn't even navigate properly.
And yet—
He won.
With ten thousand hastily gathered militia.
Against a fortified city and seasoned troops.
Zhang Xin laughed aloud.
"Unbelievable!"
He didn't even enter the city.
"Move! We go to Puban!"
By the sixth day, Zhang Xin arrived at Puban Ford.
There, at last, he saw it—
The camp.
The army.
And Niu Feng.
Niu Feng and Wang Meng rushed out to greet him, kneeling deeply.
"Greetings, Lord!"
Behind them, the former Yellow Turban commanders followed suit, their voices united.
Zhang Xin stepped forward, lifting Niu Feng to his feet.
"You've grown."
Two years had changed him. The rough peasant was gone—replaced by a man with bearing, with presence.
Niu Feng scratched his head.
"It's all thanks to Meng."
Zhang Xin's gaze shifted.
Wang Meng stood proudly, hands behind his back.
The young strategist grinned.
Inside the command tent, the truth unfolded.
Wang Meng had not relied on force—
But on human weakness.
Niu Fu, it turned out, was deeply superstitious. Every major decision passed through a diviner.
And diviners?
They loved gold.
With one hundred pieces, Wang Meng bought influence at the heart of Niu Fu's command.
False predictions led to hesitation.
Hesitation led to missed opportunities.
And when Niu Fu finally acted—
He walked straight into an ambush.
Even his retreat was guided… by deception.
Zhang Xin listened, then laughed in admiration.
"The boy from Yuyang… is now a true strategist."
But he added, voice firm:
"Do not grow arrogant. Not all enemies are like Niu Fu."
Wang Meng straightened.
"I understand."
Then came the next problem.
Dong Zhuo had responded.
Eight thousand elite troops under Dong Min now guarded the opposite bank.
Every attempt to cross had failed.
Zhang Xin nodded.
The battle was far from over.
He turned to the assembled commanders.
"These are not trained soldiers," he said. "They are farmers, newly gathered. If we fight recklessly, they will die in droves."
"My generals will reorganize them. You will cooperate."
The commanders bowed deeply.
"We will not fail you!"
Later, in private—
Niu Feng looked at Zhang Xin with longing.
"When can I return to your side and fight?"
Zhang Xin snorted.
"You? A man who gets lost on scouting missions?"
Niu Feng's face darkened.
Zhang Xin waved a hand dismissively.
"Forget the battlefield. Stay as County Lord."
Then, more softly:
"You saved my life. I won't send you to die."
He paused.
"Govern well. One day you'll oversee a commandery… maybe even a province."
"Let the people live in peace."
"Isn't that better than killing?"
Niu Feng fell silent.
Then nodded slowly.
Finally, Zhang Xin turned to Wang Meng.
"I'll give you a courtesy name."
The young man's eyes lit up.
"From now on—call me brother-in-law when we're alone."
Wang Meng froze.
Then his voice trembled.
"…Yes. Brother-in-law."
Zhang Xin smiled.
"After this war, come to Qing Province. Meet your niece."
For a brief moment, war faded into something warmer.
Then—
Zhang Xin stood.
His expression hardened.
"Dian Wei."
The giant stepped forward.
"Raise my banner."
A cold wind swept through the camp.
Zhang Xin's gaze fixed across the river—toward Chang'an.
"Let Dong Zhuo know—"
His voice rang like thunder.
"I am here."