Chapter Three: The Alliance Leader

“However, the conversation between the Grand Marshal and that storyteller seemed sluggish, lacking a sense of urgency,” Zhu Wen remarked to Huang Chao on their way back to the camp.

“And what do you think is the reason for that?” Huang Chao asked in return.

“If it weren’t for a prepared script, the Grand Marshal wouldn’t have brought me out for leisure, nor would he have carried Xue Chong’s severed head and the gold ingots. But finding a suitable actor within three days is difficult.”

“So the storyteller only obtained a legend and a portrait of Xue Chong from his subordinates; he just needed to play himself. His breakdown was because Xue Chong was dead, and he felt he wouldn’t receive the final payment from the ‘Xue Family Guards’,” Huang Chao explained.

“Clever,” Huang Chao complimented with a gleam in his eye.

“Then the description—‘eyebrows forming a straight line, teeth aligned in pairs, nose with three holes’—was also concocted by the Grand Marshal himself? That’s rather ruthless.”

“No, that wasn’t it,” Huang Chao waved his hand. “It was borrowed from popular rumors, much like that martial leader who saved the world forty years ago but was nicknamed ‘Wang Mazi’ by the common folk simply because he marched on Puzhou.”

Zhu Wen was momentarily stunned but clearly knew who Huang Chao referred to.

Because that figure, known as ‘Wang Mazi,’ was exceedingly famous in today’s Great Tang.

Yet Huang Chao did not immediately continue the topic, instead saying, “A month ago, when you came to join me, you indeed harbored intentions to attack my army. Those bandits before were stirred up by you to test my forces. You might have even planned to absorb them after weakening them with my army.”

Zhu Wen’s heart trembled slightly.

Before the army, Huang Chao had presented him with the Dragon Sparrow saber of the Great Xia to show sincerity and openness.

Since last month, Zhu Wen had led his troops into the grass army, cutting down Xue Chong, the commander of the Tianping army, and had some achievements. Who would have thought that the seemingly indifferent Huang Chao would bring up past matters today!

“I was young and ignorant back then, never having witnessed the power of heaven,” Zhu Wen tried to keep his expression calm.

“Yes, I am a man who loves talent. But to make a reckless youth grow up requires certain means. If I hadn’t spared those two thousand elderly and weak, instead slaughtering them all on the spot to let you understand the cruelty of war, what would you have done then?”

Zhu Wen had brought 2,500 men but was criticized by Huang Chao as mediocre, and after culling, only 500 were left. Zhu Wen took his remaining followers and became a battalion commander of 500 men in Huang Chao’s army.

“The Salt Marshal is righteous and noble; he is no indiscriminate killer,” Zhu Wen said firmly.

“When I’m in a good mood, I have no interest in such acts. Spreading such rumors would also tarnish my reputation in the martial world.”

“But the court calls us ‘grass bandits,’ and we know that once on this path, one cannot remain entirely innocent. The loyalty and kindness we learned since childhood are no match for the harsh policies of the government and the surging injustice in our hearts.”

“Child, once you set foot on this path, there is no turning back. If you cannot change the world, your hands will inevitably be stained with blood. The elderly, weak, women, and children you will kill in the future may number far more than two thousand.”

Huang Chao looked at Zhu Wen calmly. “Are you sure you want to continue down this path?”

Zhu Wen was suddenly shaken.

Born in turbulent times, how could he not understand that embarking on this path meant countless unavoidable hardships ahead, each one influencing thousands of lives?

He had simply avoided thinking about it until now.

After consideration, Zhu Wen replied, “An ancient man once said, ‘If one cannot be remembered for a hundred generations, one shall at least be infamous for ten thousand years.’ But this man, a local tyrant breaker who struck down the powerful, was beloved by the people and could be considered a heroic figure.”

Zhu Wen referred to Huan Wen of the Eastern Jin dynasty, whose name shared the character ‘Wen’ with his own.

“True villains lack the Salt Marshal’s awareness. Their evildoing becomes their badge and crown. But a lord like Huang Shuai, with such awareness, is exactly the person I am willing to serve tirelessly and follow all my life.”

“Then come with me to meet Xianzhi. That ‘Wang Mazi’ who saved the world forty years ago, now beloved by the common folk,” Huang Chao said quietly.

A few days later, at dawn.

An endless sea of wheat stretched to the horizon, when suddenly a strange peak rose abruptly from the ground. The mountain was tall and sharp like a sword piercing the sky, clad with clusters of pine and cypress that stained it a deep blue-green.

The mountain was extremely steep, seemingly impossible to ascend. But Huang Chao laughed heartily, rubbed his hands, grabbed the vines on the cliff, and with his toes gripping tiny cracks, climbed upward with speed far surpassing that of an ape. In no time, he reached the summit.

Zhu Wen’s agility was no match for Huang Chao’s, so he forced himself to keep pace, climbing breathlessly but with unyielding spirit, managing not to fall far behind before arriving at the peak.

No sooner had they steadied their footing than a long, piercing roar echoed—a sound like a tiger’s roar or a dragon’s cry, rolling like a wave of thunder that seemed to strike directly into Zhu Wen’s ears. Already breathless from the climb, he felt his vital energy surge wildly, as if struck by five thunderbolts. His entire body trembled violently, barely able to stand steady, gritting his teeth and swaying before steadying himself.

Huang Chao, however, remained composed, serene as the wind, teasingly glancing at a man standing atop a cactus-shaped rock: “Old Wang, what’s the show? You can’t scare the young ones, but scaring the cats and dogs is no good.”

Zhu Wen fixed his gaze and saw a man about sixty years old standing against the wind. He wore wide robes and long sleeves, his beard divided into five strands, with slightly graying hair. At first glance, his features were not sharply defined, but on closer inspection, he radiated extraordinary charisma and elegance. Every line of his face carried the immortal aura of a Daoist recluse, yet his eyes held the weary melancholy of worldly experience, resembling a legendary sword-wielding immortal from a novel.

“Not even the birds are scared, how could the cats and dogs be?” the elder smiled lightly.

By then, dawn had truly come, as if the roar had summoned the daybreak itself. Morning rays scattered like a thousand streams of light, bathing the elder’s robes.

He raised both hands to the sky, face turned upward; hundreds, even thousands of birds, far from being frightened, flocked to him and danced gracefully overhead.

Two cranes slowly descended, landing on his palms, flapping their wings leisurely. Soon, they took flight again, leading the birds in a magnificent aerial dance beneath the morning sun, the light casting a kaleidoscope of colors on their feathers, creating a scene as surreal and dreamlike as a vision.

“Young apprentice Zhu Wen pays respect to Master Wang,” Zhu Wen said without hesitation.

He knew at once this was the greatest martial artist in the land, the martial alliance chief, leader of the Zhenyi Alliance, commander of the grass army, and Grand General of Tianbu Pingjun—Wang Xianzhi! Such an ethereal demeanor was truly that of an immortal, no wonder the martial world called Wang Xianzhi the ‘Earthbound Immortal’!

The storyteller’s phrase “Wang-Huang the two bandits,” placing ‘Wang’ first, was because Wang Xianzhi was the supreme leader of the grass army, while the renowned Huang Chao was merely his second in command.

Though not a Daoist, Wang Xianzhi’s martial prowess was near the pinnacle of martial arts, naturally aligned with the Dao. Every gesture exuded a profoundly natural Daoist rhythm, unmatched even by the Celestial Masters of Longhu Mountain in Jiangxi.

That single roar that nearly toppled Zhu Wen to the ground, yet caused no disturbance among the birds who instead came to dance, was beyond the reach of any other top expert.

Dominating the martial world for forty years without challenger, his fame was well deserved.

“Young Brother Huang, this handsome young man looks unfamiliar,” Wang Xianzhi said to Huang Chao. “Why didn’t Juehai and Miss Duan come with you?”

“I had some matters to attend to and sent them out,” Huang Chao replied.

“You actually gave me the Dragon Sparrow saber taken from Old Demon Qiao as a gift to this youngster? Well, it seems you truly value this kid,” Wang Xianzhi said with a smile.

Hearing this, Zhu Wen realized Huang Chao’s gift was a borrowed blessing, which made him somewhat amused and embarrassed.

Old Demon Qiao was a villain Wang Xianzhi had slain when he was twenty. Due to the distance of time, Zhu Wen knew little about this demon, but from Huang Chao’s words, it seemed that battle had saved the martial world of the Great Tang and even the entire realm.

“There’s such a thing as meeting a kindred spirit at first sight. Wasn’t that how it was between us back then?”

“We were all children then. You, old man, saying this—is it because you still have a child’s heart at your age?”

“Gallant spirit soaring through the Big Dipper, Ban Chao cast down his brush to become a marquis. With only three thousand soldiers ahead, I dared to seize four hundred prefectures of the Tang. Is this poem not a child’s heart? You call yourself ‘Grand General of Tianbu Pingjun,’ aiming to repair the flawed heavenly path and balance the world’s fortunes with your mortal body. Is that not a child’s heart as well?”

“Ha ha ha, brother, I can’t argue with you. It’s always been this way.” Wang Xianzhi laughed heartily, his laughter unrestrained and free. Suddenly descending from the rock as if by teleportation, he embraced Huang Chao warmly, expressing their boundless friendship.

Releasing Huang Chao, Wang Xianzhi patted Zhu Wen’s shoulder: “Young man, since my sworn brother values you so highly, there must be a reason. Well done!”

“Young apprentice thanks Master Wang for the esteem,” Zhu Wen bowed respectfully.

Huang Chao said, “Old Wang, since our parting at Qizhou, we have been campaigning separately for over half a year with no word. How is your army?”

Wang Xianzhi shrugged suddenly, spreading his hands and pointing down behind the cactus-shaped rock with a trace of helplessness: “As you can see.”

Huang Chao and Zhu Wen hurriedly looked down the other side of the peak, where a military camp was pitched at the mountain’s base. The tents were scattered like stars, but the banners were broken, debris littered everywhere, many wounded soldiers lying exposed, moaning continuously. The camp was desolate and dispirited, a stark contrast to Huang Chao’s orderly and disciplined army.

“How did it come to this?” Huang Chao asked.

“Just before you arrived, I was ambushed by that old villain Song Wei in Liebei Valley of Zhongmu County and suffered a crushing defeat. Counting the two times in Yizhou, this is the third time I’ve been beaten by that old bastard,” Wang Xianzhi said ruefully. “Now my camp is filled with these disheartened old, weak, sick, and disabled men.”

Song Wei, an old general of the Tang, currently the commander tasked with suppressing grass bandits across multiple provinces, was the grass army’s archrival.

Renowned for bravery since youth, at seventeen he served as a bodyguard during a night raid with General Li Su at Caizhou, quelling the rebellion of Wu Yuanji in Huai West, earning early distinction. Later, he fought countless battles against Nanzhao in Sichuan, gaining glory such that the children of Nanzhao dared not cry at night upon hearing his name.

Now in his seventies, Song Wei still ate over a dou of grain daily, a true “old blade never dull.”

For two years, Wang Xianzhi and Huang Chao repeatedly captured cities, causing the Tang court’s forces to fall into disarray, yet they dared not establish bases, forced instead to roam continuously because of Song Wei’s relentless pursuit.

Huang Chao had not expected Wang Xianzhi to suffer such a heavy blow at the hands of Song Wei this time.