Section 053: Suffering the Consequences of Acting Too Late

Around noon, Zhao Pozhen led several leaders to Du Fuwei's stronghold.

His own followers numbered only a few hundred, far less than Du Fuwei’s strength. Zhao Pozhen was about thirty years old and had been a stronghold leader for a long time, seasoned in conflict and storms far more than Du Fuwei. Du Fuwei was but sixteen; before the Battle of Zhangqiu, he had never seen real warfare, yet he commanded the strongest and most populous stronghold on Changcheng Ridge. Zhao Pozhen felt deeply aggrieved by this and resolved to first probe the youth’s true abilities. If circumstances allowed, he would act, kill him, seize his stronghold, and thus bolster his own power.

Yet, upon arriving at Du Fuwei’s stronghold, Zhao Pozhen and his party were taken aback.

A crimson carpet was laid before the stronghold, lanterns and banners adorned the entrance, and little bandits bustled back and forth, carrying sacks of rice on their backs, slabs of meat on their shoulders, and handfuls of copper coins in their hands, their faces glowing with barely concealed excitement.

Grabbing a passing bandit by the arm, Zhao Pozhen quietly asked, “What celebration is happening here? Why all this fanfare?”

The little bandit pointed back toward Zhao Pozhen’s own stronghold and replied, beaming, “Today, Chief Zhao is visiting our stronghold. Chief Du has specially arranged for us to go down the mountain, buy pigs and sheep, slaughter them for a feast, and let everyone celebrate as if it were New Year’s again.”

So that was the reason. Still uneasy, Zhao Pozhen deliberately pressed, “But Chief Zhao’s forces aren’t strong. Why treat him with such importance?”

The bandit answered enthusiastically, “Our stronghold is joining forces with Chief Zhao’s to deal with Zhang Xuduo of Qi Prefecture. Since brothers are united in heart and purpose, sharing both hardship and joy, of course we must show our sincerity.”

Zhao Pozhen wanted to ask more, but the bandit’s face grew tense; he waved his hands repeatedly, saying, “I’ve said enough. If the chief learns I’ve been gossiping with you, I’ll be in big trouble. No more, no more…”

With that, he carried his strings of copper coins and headed down the mountain, carefree.

Had these words come from Du Fuwei’s mouth, Zhao Pozhen might not have believed them. But spoken by a bandit, known by all the stronghold’s followers, he had no choice but to accept them as truth.

They stood not far from the stronghold, discussed amongst themselves, and wondered if they were being overly cautious. Perhaps they had mistaken Du Fuwei’s genuine goodwill for malice. Yet, with events at their doorstep and their forces deployed, they decided to proceed as planned but remain flexible.

Zhang Junke stood at the gate, saw Zhao Pozhen’s party arrive, strode forward to greet them, and said with delight, “Chief Zhao, I hope you’ve been well? It’s been many days since we last met—are you in good health?”

Zhao Pozhen stepped forward, grasped Zhang Junke’s hand, and replied heartily, “Thank you for your concern, Brother Zhang. I eat well, sleep soundly. Thanks to your favor, our two strongholds combined are now much stronger—cause for celebration!”

“Yes, yes. With our strongholds united, we’re like wings added to a tiger—why should we fear Zhang Xuduo?” Zhang Junke laughed, echoing his sentiment.

Both men concealed ulterior motives, yet their lies sounded genuine. If not for the need to survive, they might truly have joined forces and turned their weapons outward together.

Chatting and laughing, Zhang Junke led them into the stronghold. Inside, people thronged everywhere. On the open ground, tables were set with banquets, laden with fine wine and good dishes, as if preparing for another New Year’s celebration.

Zhao Pozhen found a moment to signal his leaders, indicating they should stick to the original plan. Yet his vigilance waned, and he began to wonder if it was too dishonorable to strike during Du Fuwei’s feast.

They reached the hall of brotherhood, where a large table stood in the center, covered with a broad red cloth, and piled with wine and food. This arrangement was suggested by Li Dong. In the Sui–Tang era, common folk had not yet adopted the Eight Immortals Table, but chairs were gradually spreading among the elite. At the time, chairs were called “Hu stools,” likely introduced by northern peoples.

Setting a grand table was part of Li Dong’s plan. At the end of the Sui, tradition still followed Han and Jin customs: master and servants knelt on the ground, with small square tables before them—not high nor large, with people seated several feet apart.

With a large table, everyone could sit together, symbolizing that henceforth, they would share meals and drink, forging closer bonds.

Du Fuwei descended from his seat as Zhao Pozhen’s group arrived, laughed heartily, and said, “Chief Zhao, your presence brings honor to our stronghold.”

Zhao Pozhen clasped his fists and replied politely, “Chief Du’s personal invitation fills me with glory. Heroes have always emerged young—Chief Du, so accomplished at your age, is truly to be celebrated. Your future is boundless!”

After a few courteous exchanges, Du Fuwei took Zhao Pozhen’s hand and seated him beside himself.

Li Dong, naturally, sat alongside Du Fuwei and close to Zhao Pozhen.

Though they hadn’t met before, Zhao Pozhen had long heard the names. Once he matched faces to names, he noticed an unfamiliar youth sitting at the table, apparently of high status. He asked, “May I ask who this young gentleman is?”

Li Dong remained seated, gazed at Zhao Pozhen, raised his cup and drank.

Du Fuwei smiled, “This is the young hero Li Dong, who aided us at Zhangqiu and defeated Zhishi Lang’s army of a hundred thousand. When Zhang Xuduo planned to attack us on Changcheng Ridge, it was he who first learned and warned me.”

Zhao Pozhen quickly rose, bowed deeply, and exclaimed sincerely, “His reputation is thunderous! Today I am thrice blessed to meet such a hero.” As a stronghold leader, he cared greatly about Zhishi Lang’s defeat at Zhangqiu. Had Zhishi Lang been victorious, his fame would have soared, and Zhao Pozhen would surely have taken his followers to join him. With only a few hundred men, how could he last? Better to find a thick leg to cling to for safety.

But Zhishi Lang had lost to a little-known youth, reputedly only sixteen. This astonished him and put his plans to join Zhishi Lang on hold.

Now to see Li Dong in person—how could he not be overjoyed? At sixteen, most would still wet the bed, yet this youth commanded three thousand government troops and routed an army of a hundred thousand.

What strategy, what power, what vision! If he could be brought into the stronghold, would there be any doubt of future glory?

Li Dong placed his cup steadily on the table and smiled, “Chief Zhao, you need not be so modest. A mere hundred thousand men are hardly worth mentioning. Yet, there is one matter I don’t understand—may I ask your guidance?”

Zhao Pozhen was flattered. What could he need my guidance for? He replied, “I am humbled. But what matter troubles the general? Speak freely.”

Li Dong pondered and asked, “There is a treasure within Changcheng Ridge. Has Chief Zhao ever heard others speak of it?”

“A treasure? What treasure?” Zhao Pozhen asked, puzzled. “I’ve been at Changcheng Ridge for over ten years and never heard of any treasure. Where did the general hear this? Please enlighten me.”

Li Dong was a bit disappointed by the reply. It seemed Luo Shixin was not in his hands after all. But people’s hearts are unpredictable—perhaps he was pretending ignorance. I’ll try again to see.

“Years ago, a strange stone fell from the sky, right here on Changcheng Ridge. Chief Zhao has never heard of it?” Li Dong clarified the treasure he meant. By his reaction, he’d know whether Luo Shixin was in their hands.

Zhao Pozhen laughed, “Oh, you mean that odd thing! Black as pitch, harder than iron, weighs a ton—several men can’t lift it. It’s been lying on Changcheng Ridge for ages, and no one’s interested. How did it become a treasure in your eyes?”

With this, Li Dong was convinced—it wasn’t Zhao Pozhen’s doing. He didn’t know the stone’s use; unsurprising, as bandits cared only for loot and followers, not some incomprehensible meteorite too heavy to move.

As they spoke, Zhao Pozhen’s lieutenants kept winking at him. Li Dong, watching from the corner of his eye, detected something strange. Observing their movements and attire, he noticed their backs bulged—likely concealing weapons.

Attending such a festive banquet, yet prepared for other actions? Why else bring weapons? Were they planning to harm Du Fuwei and his men?

I must advance my plan. There’s no way to alert Du Fuwei now—it’s up to me alone. I’ll proceed with caution.

Zhao Pozhen also saw his lieutenants' signals and kept restraining them with his eyes, urging them not to act rashly. Now, with a brilliant young strategist at the table, the situation had changed dramatically. One misstep, and they’d fall into Li Dong’s trap.

At this moment, Du Fuwei spoke, displeased, “There is a young hero named Luo Shixin. Have you heard of him?”

Zhao Pozhen, equally dissatisfied with Du Fuwei’s tone, shook his head without answering.

Suddenly, one of Zhao Pozhen’s lieutenants lost patience, shouting, “We were invited here to deal with Zhang Xuduo—why are we only talking about irrelevant things? Where’s the sincerity? How long must we wait?”

He deliberately emphasized the last question. Prompted by this, Zhao Pozhen lifted his wine cup, feigning nonchalance, took a small sip, then let go suddenly, allowing the cup to drop.

His lieutenants abruptly stood, reaching behind their backs to pull at their clothes.

The situation erupted suddenly—Du Fuwei and his men’s faces changed, realizing what was happening. But, at some distance, they were powerless.

Li Dong sat right beside Zhao Pozhen. He quickly extended his left foot, catching the falling cup so it didn’t hit the ground.

Zhao Pozhen’s face also changed; he hastily tried to kick Li Dong’s foot.

Li Dong withdrew his left foot, spun swiftly, and thrust his right foot beneath Zhao Pozhen’s, refusing to let his foot touch the ground.

Zhao Pozhen’s foot pressed atop Li Dong’s, both men stunned, silent for a moment. The tension was palpable—a bloodbath was about to erupt.

Li Dong foiled their plot, and chuckled, “Chief Zhao, you must weigh around two hundred pounds, yes?”

Zhao Pozhen’s face was grim. Seeking to ease the tension, he replied, “Amazing! How did you know? Can you read my fortune for this year?”

Li Dong smiled mildly, “I can’t read fortunes. I knew your weight because your foot is on mine.”

…

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