Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

Gradually, Cao Cao could no longer lift his shoulders high.

It's not that I don't want to, it's that my strength feels like it's being slowly drained away—

I haven't slept well for six days, and I've been surviving on a mouthful of muddy water for six days. The handle of the knife is worn raw, and my thumb and forefinger hurt terribly whenever I close them.

The shield came up again.

The gap was forced open, and the sound of bricks and stones cracking was like bones breaking.

Xiahou Yuan was panting like a broken bellows, yet he remained stubbornly positioned in front of the breach, his blade flashing again and again, each strike seemingly a life-or-death exchange.

But there were too many people on the other side.

They weren't just reckless bandits; the shield bearers in the front row rotated their positions with remarkable stability, while the spearheads in the back row advanced layer by layer, like a dull knife slowly crushing your bones.

Cao Cao suddenly realized that his "shield-raising" motion on his left side was not right.

Too heavy, too ruthless, it was as if they were deliberately forcing his defense to the right.

He felt a chill run down his spine and wanted to return the knife to seal it, but his hand was a beat too slow.

Just this half-beat.

"Clang—!"

A knife slashed horizontally, striking him squarely on the back of the blade, causing his entire arm to go numb and the knife's momentum to veer off course.

The next instant, another knife followed, emerging from behind the shield, its blade flashing coldly, and slashed straight down toward his chest!

He didn't even have time to back away; he could only instinctively raise his arm to block.

But he knew he couldn't stop it.

This one cut will cripple the person, even if they don't die.

Just as the blade was about to strike—

"Whoosh!"

An arrow pierced through the mist, its faint whistling sound seeming to come from beyond the heavens.

"bite--!"

The arrow wasn't aimed at anyone.

It was terrifyingly precise, pinning the blade right to the spine of the knife.

The blade was struck and bounced back, causing the edge to deflect half a foot off course and slash into the mud, splashing up a cloud of wet soil!

The man with the knife paused for a moment.

Just that moment of stunned silence—

A thunderous roar crashed down from behind the fog:

"Damn it—who dares to hurt my older brother!"

Cao Cao's pupils suddenly contracted.

He looked up.

The fog seemed to have been kicked away.

He rode ahead, his cloak billowing dust, his horse's hooves drumming on the ground.

Xiahou Dun!

His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was covered in dried blood, as if he had rolled out of a pile of dead bodies. He held a long knife at an angle, with beads of blood still clinging to the tip.

And behind him—

It wasn't just one or two riders.

It was the sound of countless horses' hooves.

Like a black line spreading out from afar, it instantly turned into a black tide, the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves soaring into the sky, even the fog was scattered.

More than two hundred men, their armor incomplete, yet their killing intent was palpable.

It didn't seem like it came to save people; it seemed more like it came to take lives.

The pursuers' formation finally broke down at this moment.

Some people turned around and saw the imposing cavalry formation, their faces instantly turning pale, and their shouts changed tone:

"There's a rider—!"

"Retreat! Retreat—!"

Is it possible to withdraw?

Xiahou Dun gave them no way to retreat.

With a single slash, he severed the arm of the shield bearer at the front. The moment the shield hit the ground, the horse's hooves trampled over it, and the sound of bones shattering was exceptionally clear.

Immediately afterwards, the cavalry pressed forward, their blades flashing like rain, tearing a gash in the flank.

Cao Cao stood amidst the ruins, his chest still heaving.

He felt a breath finally escape from his throat—but the moment it came out, he realized he almost couldn't swallow it back down.

Xiahou Yuan had already rushed out, roaring as he chased after a man wielding a spear, as if he wanted to cut away all the frustration he had felt over the past six days.

Cao Cao suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but loud enough to drown out the panting around him:

"Don't kill them all—leave some alive!"

Xiahou Dun glanced back at him, his eyes blazing, and the next second he roared at those behind him:

"Listen to Wei Shu! Leave ten alive! The rest—kill!"

The cavalry responded and crashed into the crowd like a giant axe.

The pursuers finally began to crumble.

Some ran, some knelt, and the rest were trampled by horses' hooves and had their throats slit by blades.

Before long, only screams, groans, and prisoners tied up in strings remained outside the boundary pavilion.

Cao Cao leaned against the broken wall, finally able to lower the tip of his sword.

His hands were shaking.

It's not fear, it's exhaustion.

Xiahou Dun dismounted, grabbed Cao Cao's shoulder, and his voice was fierce, sounding like he was cursing but also like he was about to cry:

"Brother, if you die, how will I face His Highness when I go back?!"

Cao Cao looked up at him, his throat feeling like it was on fire, and after a long while he managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"You've come at just the right time."

Xiahou Dun gritted his teeth: "If you had been a moment later, I would have given you my life."

Cao Cao remained silent.

He looked past Xiahou Dun and onto the prisoners.

He closed his eyes, only one thought remaining in his mind:

The "mouth" His Highness wanted has been obtained.

But His Highness is perhaps facing an even more poisonous knife.

-

Jizhou border, imperial post station.

The dark figure was still standing in front of the bed, breathing slightly relaxed.

He reached out and deftly turned the man on the bed over, wanting to check if the knife had severed his genitals, and also to take the personal seal so he could go back and report.

But when the person turns over—

The moment that face appeared under the light, the shadowy figure froze.

It's not Huangfu Song.

His eyebrows and eyes were too thick, and there was an old scar on the corner of his mouth, making him look like a bandit leader who had been rolling in the mud for years.

The shadowy figure's mind went blank for a moment, and a chill ran down his spine.

Before he could even back away, he felt a sudden chill on his neck.

A voice sounded behind him:

"explain."

"Who sent you?"

The shadowy figure tried to move, only to discover that the wooden plank beneath its feet had been replaced long ago. Stepping on it caused it to sink slightly, and if it shifted its center of gravity, it would reveal its weakness.

What's even more terrifying is that the two guards who were "dozing" at the door are now standing in front of him with clear eyes, showing no sign of sleepiness whatsoever.

A figure emerged from the shadows and stood in the moonlight.

He hadn't removed his short armor, nor unsheathed his sword; his steps were steady, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

Huangfu Song.

He didn't even glance at the "corpse" on the bed, but stared at the back of the shadowy figure's neck, as if looking at a wolf being held down.

"The post station is too clean," Huangfu Song said casually. "It's so clean it doesn't look like a post station."

The shadowy figure swallowed hard, its tongue flicking out, and the venom sac between its teeth was about to roll down.

But as soon as he made a move, his chin was immediately grabbed by the guard beside him, the force so strong that it made his teeth go numb.

Huangfu Song's voice was still not loud:

"This isn't the first time you've used this method in the army camp."

"But you picked the wrong person."

Fear finally showed in the shadowy figure's eyes.

He realized—this was not a temporary response.

It was a setup that had been planned long ago.

Those "bandits" outside the post station were probably cleared out long before nightfall.

The "corpse" on the bed was simply bait to make him swallow the knife.

Huangfu Song took a step forward:

"Ask one more time."

"Who sent you?"

The dark figure felt a tightness in his throat, and sweat trickled down his temples.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, or as if he dared not say it.

The personal guard behind Huangfu Song said coldly:

"General, if he just speaks up, we can expose the hand that's pulling the strings in Luoyang tonight."

Huangfu Song did not press the matter immediately.

He simply looked up at the darkness outside the window.

The crown prince's words before he set off echoed in his mind:

"Teacher, remember to do as you said, split into two groups."

"Go all out in the open, let them see."

"We went into the shadows to rescue people, and also to find a way to get information out of people."

Mengde should have already escaped his predicament.

Having considered this, he raised his hand and gave instructions:

"Tie him up."

"Gag your mouth."

"Send it back overnight and hand it over to His Highness for personal interrogation."

Upon hearing the word "Your Highness," the shadowy figure's pupils constricted sharply.

Huangfu Song turned and walked towards the door, his cloak billowing as he did so:

"Prepare the horses."

"Let's go and meet up with Mengde first."