Chapter Thirty-Eight: First Encounter with Liu, Guan, and Zhang

Within the City Lord’s residence, Zou Jing was deep in conversation with Liu Bei and his two sworn brothers. According to the latest reports from their scouts, the vast Yellow Turban army was already drawing near to Zhuo Commandery.

Just as Liu Bei was preparing to declare some bold and stirring words, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei suddenly rose to their feet, their auras flaring with energy. Behind Guan Yu, the faint silhouette of a blue dragon shimmered, while a massive, shadowy python coiled behind Zhang Fei. The two gazed tensely toward the city gate, clearly sensing an overwhelming presence approaching.

“Calm yourselves, my brothers!” Liu Bei stood, addressing both his companions and Zou Jing. “There have been no rumors of any formidable adepts among the Yellow Turbans who have reached the Manifestation Realm in You Province. It may well be someone come to aid us.”

Zou Jing let out a breath of relief, his expression brightening. “You are right, Xuande. Let us go and see for ourselves!” If, at this crucial moment, a Manifestation Realm expert had come to support them, it would be a stroke of luck indeed.

Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, though recently having advanced to the Manifestation Realm, had only just stabilized their inner energy; their cultivation was far from solid, and their mastery of the realm incomplete.

At that moment, a soldier arrived breathless, his face recovering some color but his eyes still wild with panic. “My lord—someone has descended from the sky!”

“Enough, you may withdraw,” Zou Jing waved him away. The soldier saluted and quickly retreated. Zou Jing, with Liu Bei at his side and the two sworn brothers following, hurried toward the city gate.

Meanwhile, Sun Meng was simultaneously communicating with his audience in his mind and keeping watch on the city’s movements. He sensed the approach of Guan and Zhang’s powerful auras, but as their pace was not hurried, he surmised they did not perceive him as an enemy.

“What do you think Zhang Fei is really like?” Sun Meng mused to his unseen audience. “Is Guan Yu’s face truly that red? And does Liu Bei’s stature match the legendary tales?”

“Guan Yu’s red face, Zhang Fei’s black—just like in the opera!” someone replied.

“But hands reaching past the knees? That can’t be right!”

“I heard Zhang Fei’s actually quite fair-skinned.”

“Am I the only one wondering if Guan Yu actually dresses all in green?”

“Wondering right along with you!”

A cascade of similar remarks swept across the screen. Sun Meng smiled. “We’ll find out soon enough.” He, too, was curious. The martial prowess of this world clearly surpassed what he remembered of historical accounts—even the more embellished tales of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms likely only captured a fragment of the reality here. So far he had not encountered any truly iconic figures, so he could not yet judge how closely this world mirrored either history or legend.

Still, with Cheng Yuanzhi and Deng Mao attacking Zhuo Commandery, it seemed the Romance was the closer reference.

While Sun Meng pondered, Liu Bei and his companions came into view. Thanks to his awakened Spirit Eye bloodline, even without deliberate effort, his vision was vastly enhanced—he could now perceive the movement of air and dust within a kilometer, should he choose.

Naturally, Sun Meng shared his view with his audience, who now saw Liu Bei and his brothers as well.

“Wow! Guan Yu really does have a red face! Though it’s darker than I imagined.”

“And Zhang Fei? That big fair-skinned fellow—is that really Zhang Fei?”

“Liu Bei’s arms must be over a meter long!”

As for Zou Jing, he was quickly forgotten as the barrage of comments focused on the three heroes.

Guan Yu and Zhang Fei indeed resembled their portrayals in the Romance, though in a more realistic manner. Guan Yu’s face was not as vividly red as the legends claimed. Liu Bei’s ears were not as enormous as the stories suggested, though his earlobes were notably large. Zhang Fei, however, matched the historical descriptions—fair-skinned, large-eyed, with a scholarly air that contrasted with his fierce reputation.

Leaping down from the city wall, Sun Meng landed directly before the four men. “Sun Meng, from Bohai. I have come to crush the Yellow Turbans.”

Zou Jing’s tension melted away, replaced by genuine delight. “That is excellent news! How fares Bohai Commandery?”

“Just small bands of Yellow Turbans—I slew two minor leaders, but have not encountered their main force. Perhaps they do not intend to focus their efforts on You Province,” Sun Meng replied, turning to analyze Guan Yu and Zhang Fei.

“I do not yet know your names, sirs, but you both seem to have only recently broken through.”

“Guan Yu, styled Yunchang.”

“Zhang Fei, styled Yide.”

“I am Liu Bei, styled Xuande. These are my sworn brothers. As you flew here, did you see the Yellow Turban army close by?” Liu Bei inquired with a polite salute.

“The regular troops number over thirty thousand, but how many are truly elite is unclear. There are more than fifty thousand in total. I did not sense any Manifestation Realm experts, but their army is already forming battle arrays. A direct assault would not be wise,” Sun Meng replied.

“That complicates matters,” Zou Jing said, frowning. He had hoped that with three experts, they could easily rout the rebels, but the enemy’s formation changed everything.

Liu Bei and his brothers frowned as well. The Manifestation Realm was indeed formidable; such a warrior could vanquish thousands alone—so long as the enemy did not form a battle array to suppress their energy.

“We should return to the residence and devise a proper plan. Otherwise, all we can do is prepare for a siege,” Zou Jing suggested. The five entered the City Lord’s hall.

There, Zou Jing ordered a soldier to bring out a map, spreading it across the table.

“Here—the Yellow Turban main camp is here,” Sun Meng pointed out.

“If they follow this route, they will pass the foot of Mount Daxing to attack Zhuo Commandery!” Liu Bei traced the path, stopping at the mountain’s base. “If we could lure their leaders out here and strike them down—could that work?”

“Though it is at the mountain’s foot, it is wooded. If we strike before the enemy’s formation is set, a surprise attack might succeed. The Yellow Turban rabble cannot match the discipline of Han troops. If their morale breaks, victory will be ours!” Zou Jing’s face lit up as he looked to Sun Meng. “What do you think, Brother Sun?”

He had intended to address Sun Meng by his courtesy name, but realized he did not know it.

“A surprise attack is feasible. In Bohai, I twice routed Yellow Turban bands, and their leaders were all rash and lacked cunning. At the height of their momentum, they are likely to seek glory in single combat,” Sun Meng mused, recalling the fates of Cheng Yuanzhi and Deng Mao in the tales—perhaps precisely because the Yellow Turbans lacked capable generals.

“In that case, I will ready the troops. We march at dawn!” Zou Jing declared. To defeat the enemy before the city was much preferable to enduring a siege.

Zou Jing ordered a banquet in Sun Meng’s honor, with Liu Bei and his brothers in attendance.

After the meal, Zhang Fei could no longer restrain himself. “Brother Sun, I, Zhang, wish to test my skills against you and witness the arts of the Manifestation Realm!”

His and Guan Yu’s breakthroughs had been peculiar; upon swearing brotherhood with Liu Bei, a newfound resolve had crystallized, allowing them to overcome their bottleneck. Yet their cultivation remained unstable—they had not fully grasped the powers of the Manifestation Realm.

Otherwise, when Sun Meng had flown to the city wall, they would have been able to do the same.

Sun Meng smiled slightly; he had noticed Zhang Fei’s impatience during the meal. Guan Yu, though equally eager, hid it better.

“Very well!” Sun Meng replied, unleashing his manifestation.

“Weapons?!” Not only Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, but Liu Bei and Zou Jing were equally astonished.

“The so-called Manifestation is the embodiment of a warrior’s spirit and will—a realization of one’s true self. My specialty is archery; with the power of my manifestation, I can shoot an arrow a thousand miles!” As he spoke, Sun Meng mimed drawing a bow, and his inner energy coalesced into the shape of a bow and arrow.

“Of course, with enough cultivation, anyone can shape energy this way, but without the proper manifestation, the bow’s full potential cannot be realized.”

Guan Yu and Zhang Fei instinctively tried to emulate him, but could only produce an unstable orb of light, far from forming weapons.

“Upon reaching the Manifestation Realm, your energy fuses with the world’s spiritual force, refining your body, accelerating recovery, and, most notably, granting the power of flight. Unless suppressed by a massive battle array, a Manifestation Realm warrior is nearly impossible to kill,” Sun Meng explained, looking at Guan Yu and Zhang Fei.

“Why not both of you come at me together?”