Chapter 031: Minister Zhang Wen

Decapitating an enemy general in the heat of battle is no small feat, but taking out the head of an entire rebellion is a task of near-impossible difficulty.

In an army devoid of true unity, the death of its supreme leader is an utterly terrifying event.

Yet, it can also ignite a desperate, last-stand courage that can lead to victory.

If, at this moment, just one man had stepped forward, raised his arms, and called for vengeance for Bian Zhang… the tens of thousands of rebels would have surged forward like a tide, drowning Long Tian and his small detachment.

A few hundred men were no match for tens of thousands.

But there were no “ifs” on this battlefield.

The rebels were rebels precisely because they lacked unity. They were a collection of groups brought together by convenience and greed.

Once the ringleader was removed and communication was severed, they became scattered sand, losing all structure.

In a war, for the leader to fall was an absolute taboo.

“Run!”

No one knew who shouted it first, but someone turned tail and bolted.

The once ferocious rebel army immediately began to waver.

Gradually, more and more rebel soldiers followed suit and fled.

They had no idea what was really going on, but following the crowd was always the safer choice.

Long Tian, meanwhile, hoisted Bian Zhang’s corpse on his spear and headed toward Zhang Wen.

Along the way, not a single rebel soldier dared to attack them.

“Bian Zhang is dead! The main culprit has been executed!  Those who surrender will not be harmed!”

Who would surrender?

Everyone wished they could turn and run even faster, cursing their parents for not giving birth to them with two extra legs.

Having rebelled, surrendering meant certain death. Better to run while they could!

**

On the other side of the field, the imperial army had long since collapsed as well.

Many soldiers were already on their knees begging for mercy while others attempted to flee, though none could break through the encirclement.

Zhang Wen was in a state of absolute despair.

Clutching his longsword, he wavered between two grim choices: commit suicide to preserve his dignity as a high official, or wait to be taken prisoner.

If captured, he might yet keep his life, but his reputation would be ruined.

Still, victory and defeat were common in war…

Sun Jian, too, had resigned himself to dying on this field

As a member of a military family, he was never favored by the scholar-official clans.

Even claiming descent from Sun Bin was useless, too distant, and thus disregarded.

Yet his keen eyes spotted something: the once-fierce rebel army was retreating!

For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but it wasn’t an illusion. It was real.

And it didn’t look like an orderly retreat. It resembled a total collapse!

What was going on? Sun Jian was baffled.

‘They had the upper hand. Why are they running?’

No matter how he thought about it, Sun Jian couldn’t understand.

Nor could he imagine that in the future, his own son Sun Quan would lead 100,000 men only to be defeated by a mere 800.

An embarrassment of historic proportions!

Zhang Wen was equally dumbfounded.

He stood there, mouth agape, wondering if some god had intervened or if reinforcements had arrived from the heavens.

“Bian Zhang is dead! The ringleader has been executed! Surrender and you shall live!”

Through the dust and blood, a black horse and a silver spear appeared.

A young, valiant warrior galloped forward, carrying a corpse on his spearhead before hurling it violently onto the ground at Zhang Wen’s feet.

Seated atop his horse, he cupped his fists in salute.

“Your humble servant, Long Tian, under the command of General Dong, greets Your Excellency. Thanks to your profound guidance and the strength of the army, the rebel leader Bian Zhang has been slain in battle by this humble soldier.”

Zhang Wen froze for two seconds, his jaw hanging open.

A natural reaction of a human mind pushed to the brink of disbelief.

“Good! Good! Good!”

He had escaped death and secured the head of the enemy leader. This was a monumental victory!

Overwhelmed by immense joy, even Zhang Wen, who normally disliked Dong Zhuo, couldn’t help but beam at Long Tian.

The fact that he said “good” three times was a testament to his inner excitement!

Furthermore, Long Tian was incredibly tactful; he had framed the victory as a result of Zhang Wen’s “direction,” effectively handing him the political credit.

“Long Tian, is it? Your achievements, this official has noted. Your kindness, this official has noted as well.”

Zhang Wen said, quickly recovering his poise as a refined scholar and official, conveniently forgetting that he had almost wet himself moments ago.

“It was merely my duty. All was thanks to my lord’s brilliant command, Your Excellency. May I ask, shall we pursue the rebels?”

Long Tian replied, his face a mask of solemn, professional discipline. He showed no arrogance in claiming credit, instead fixing Zhang Wen with a series of stern gazes.

He embodied the image of a diligent, responsible, and ambitious young man to perfection.

Zhang Wen nodded, clearly impressed by Long Tian.

He almost wished the boy wasn’t one of Dong Zhuo’s kin, so he could recruit him for himself.

“No need. We return to camp to reorganize. With Bian Zhang dead, the rest are no longer a threat.”

**

As the army began the grim task of burying the dead and clearing the field,

A middle-aged man with bloodstains on his face approached. He was followed by a retinue of fierce generals.

“I am Sun Jian of Jiangdong, courtesy name Wentai,” the man said, cupping his fists toward Long Tian. “I owe you my life. If you ever need anything, speak the word, and I, Sun Jian shall not stand idly by.”

Long Tian looked at the powerful man before him. This was his second encounter with a true legend of the era.

This was the “Tiger of Jiangdong,” the man who would later spearhead the coalition against Dong Zhuo.

A fearless warrior who charged into battle without hesitation.

Yet this mighty general wasn’t as noble as he appeared.

At the very least, secretly hoarding the Imperial Seal was enough to tarnish any man’s character.

For a subject to hoard the imperial seal, was this not an act of treason?

“There is no need for such formality, General,” Long Tian replied, returning the salute with a serene expression.

He showed no sign of the boastful pride one might expect from a youth who had just slain a rebel king.

“We are brothers-in-arms. Regardless of past grievances, on the battlefield, we are comrades who watch each other’s backs. Please, call me Little Tian.”

“Good! Good brother. When we have the chance, we’ll share a drink.”

Sun Jian clapped Long Tian on the shoulder enthusiastically. Sometimes, a lifelong bond is formed in a single moment of mutual respect.

That night, Zhang Wen hosted a lavish banquet in Long Tian’s honor.

He even arranged for several dancing girls to entertain them in the camp; whether they were captured from nearby noble families remained unclear.

Long Tian declined the women, remaining focused on playing the role of the dutiful soldier.

When Zhang Wen tried to probe him for information on Dong Zhuo’s other plans, Long Tian skillfully feigned ignorance, claiming he was merely a vanguard following orders.

Near the end of the feast, Dong Zhuo finally arrived.

He was incredibly late, showing a blatant lack of respect for Zhang Wen’s authority.

Any other commander with a fiercer temper might have executed Dong Zhuo on the spot for such insolence, but Zhang Wen was a man of caution and hesitation. He let it slide.

Seeing his Uncle arrive, Long Tian simply lowered his head and continued to eat.

Closing his eyes, he tuned into his system.

Every kill on the Tulong Slope had granted him experience. Every level-up brought him more attribute points, making him stronger.

Compared to the fake smiles and political posturing of the banquet, the cold reality of his own progression was much more satisfying.

His merit was already set in stone. No one could take it from him now.