In 189 AD, outside Luoyang, at the foot of Mount Beimang.
Three thousand Xiliang cavalry bore down like a dark cloud, and the earth trembled! The Grand Commandant, the Minister over the Masses, and the other court officials were so terrified they shook like leaves and collapsed to the ground.
And me, a low-ranking gate guard who had just crawled out of a pile of corpses, stood with a bloodied ring-pommeled saber in one hand, shielding the thirteen-year-old young emperor Liu Bian and the nine-year-old Emperor Xian of Han, Liu Xie, behind me.
Facing me was Dong Zhuo, the Governor of Xiliang, who surveyed the world like a demon king, and his adviser Li Ru, whose eyes were as venomous as a snake’s.
“A handful of wounded soldiers managed to snatch the Son of Heaven from tens of thousands of rebels? I say you planned this all along!” At Li Ru’s sinister insinuation, the officials around us drew sharp breaths, certain I was as good as dead.
I abruptly sheathed my saber and dropped to one knee with a crash, shouting with all my might:
“This humble man has no ability to put down the rebellion! I risked my life to bring His Majesty out because I firmly believe that, among all under Heaven, only a peerless hero like Lord Dong can pacify the world and secure the realm! I’m not running away. I’ve been waiting for you, Lord Dong!”
After a deathly silence, Dong Zhuo let out a thunderous laugh. “Good lad! From today on, you’re one of my men!”
As I bowed my head to thank him, no one saw the ambition burning in my eyes, hotter than the fires of war consuming the land.
…
