After a bout of chaos, the four men finally sat down again in the side hall.
Zhang Fei had been happily sent off to the kitchen by Liu Bei. He left grinning from ear to ear, his steps light and brisk.
Second Brother's problem is simple, Zhang Fei thought. Just find a chance and stab Lü Meng to death with a spear—done.
Too bad both Big Brother and the Strategist refused to agree. Still, there was nothing stopping him from acting first and explaining later… right?
With those simple thoughts bouncing around his head, Zhang Fei decided he would drink himself senseless tonight.
The side hall fell quiet once more.
Liu Bei felt a splitting headache coming on, but he still forced himself to explain.
"The Lord of Wu does have a younger sister," he said slowly, "but I've heard she's cherished like a priceless jewel. She's barely twenty—how could there be a marriage alliance with me?"
"Your Lordship is far too modest," Zhuge Liang laughed. "You now govern Jing Province, and in the future you will pacify Yi Province and revive the Han. If that doesn't make you a hero of the age, what does?"
"There's no need to dwell on it," he added gently. "Let things take their natural course."
He didn't say more, but everyone present understood.
After Changban, Lady Gan had survived—but the shock had left her gravely ill. Her health had never recovered, and she now required constant care.
Lady Mi, on the other hand, had entrusted A-Dou to Zhao Yun before throwing herself into a well. Her death was a tragedy no one could forget.
Now Liu Bei had no one at his side to look after him, and the position of his principal wife remained vacant. If he were to take a new bride, it would put both his civil and military officials at ease.
Liu Bei neither agreed nor refused. His gaze shifted instead to the final portion of the light screen's record—the very content revealed today.
And what it said was… eye-catching, to say the least.
"Sun 'Shiwan'Quan?" Liu Bei read aloud.
"Ten thousand troops routed by eight hundred men?"
Zhao Yun and Guan Yu were veterans of countless battlefields, and Zhuge Liang was well versed in warfare. Even so, all three felt their worldview wobble.
"Sun Quan brought ten thousand men," Zhuge Liang said incredulously. "Ten thousand! Even if those were ten thousand flatbreads, Zhang Liao would need half a month to eat them!"
He was the first to voice doubt.
"Could it be that the records from later generations are distorted by time?"
"Eight hundred against ten thousand— even if the Marquis of Huaiyin were reborn, it would still be impossible!"
Zhao Yun tried to parse it more carefully.
"'Ten thousand' may have been a nominal figure. The actual force might have been six or eight thousand, with perhaps two thousand truly combat-ready soldiers. But even then… two thousand against eight hundred…"
Guan Yu stroked his beard and spoke after a moment's thought.
"Numbers alone do not decide victory. At Red Cliffs, Zhou Gongjin defeated Cao Cao's eight hundred thousand."
"Zhang Liao is an old acquaintance of mine—a man who understands warfare. If he led eight hundred elite Bingzhou guards, and the opposing commanders were men like Cao Bao…"
He paused, then continued carefully.
"If Zhang Liao led from the front and fought ferociously, his troops would follow him without hesitation. In that case, victory would not be impossible."
The more they considered it, the more plausible it sounded.
A fierce general leading eight hundred fearless personal guards into a mass of poorly motivated troops—especially when the enemy command was incompetent—winning no longer seemed unbelievable.
Still…
"Sun Quan later turned out to be like Cao Bao?" Liu Bei asked in astonishment.
Cao Bao had left a deep impression on Liu Bei back in Xu Province: commanding elite Danyang troops only to lose to Xiahou Dun, then later betraying the city to Lü Bu.
All talk, no backbone. Cowardly, incompetent, two-faced—his name was practically synonymous with "worthless."
How could such a man be mentioned in the same breath as Sun Quan?
"Big Brother must remember what the light screen said," Guan Yu replied calmly.
"In the future, the conflict between the Jianghuai faction and the Jiangdong great clans grows increasingly fierce."
"The Jiangdong clans rely heavily on private troops. In battle, they would hesitate to risk their own men. Seeing this, the Jianghuai commanders would also lose the will to fight. Before the battle even begins, morale is already broken."
"And Zhang Liao," Guan Yu continued, "treats his soldiers like brothers. If he charges forward without fear, his men will follow him unto death. When such forces collide, how could Sun Quan's army possibly win?"
He turned to Zhao Yun and clasped his hands.
"Just like General Zhao at Changban. Though Third Brother provided cover, it was your unmatched valor—seven charges in and out—that terrified Cao's army. By that logic, wasn't that one man against ten thousand?"
Zhao Yun hastily returned the salute, modest as ever.
Liu Bei, however, grasped Zhao Yun's hands tightly.
"Only at Changban did I truly understand—Zilong is a peerless general!"
Even as he said it, a stray thought slipped into his mind:
Too bad the child you saved turned out to be… useless.
Zhao Yun was deeply moved—though also slightly confused.
Why does my lord's smile look so strained?
With Zhang Fei absent, the others tactfully pretended not to see the next two comments from the light screen.
"By the way, why does the Wuhou Shrine honor Liu Chen but not Liu Shan?"
"Everyone enshrined there is a loyal martyr of Shu. Does Liu Shan deserve a place? How does he have the face to enter?"
From the tone, the Wuhou Shrine was something like an ancestral temple—those enshrined within received incense and worship for generations.
Later generations clearly viewed Liu Shan as a disgrace to Shu Han—so much so that he wasn't even allowed into the shrine.
Guan Yu and Zhao Yun exchanged a glance.
If we're talking about loyal martyrs of Shu…
We should qualify, right?
Being worshiped for generations after death… honestly, that didn't sound bad at all.
Liu Bei's emotions, however, were far more complicated.
On one hand, Liu Shan's presence—again—only underscored how badly he had failed in raising his son.
On the other, he realized something profound.
No matter how many years had passed, no matter how dynasties rose and fell, the people of this land had not forgotten him—or those who had fought and bled for the Han.
He had once sighed over flesh growing back on his thighs, lamented the decline of the Han, been mocked by Jiangdong elites, neglected and betrayed by the subordinates of Liu Biao and Tao Qian, and chased across the land by Cao Cao like a hunted dog.
Yet now, these casual words from the light screen told him something priceless:
Those years of perseverance had meaning.
Those who cared for the Han had not forgotten him.
History itself had not forgotten him.
The meeting ended without any concrete conclusions.
Even knowing that Eastern Wu would eventually become an unreliable ally, Liu Bei neither had reason nor strength to break with them yet. Cooperation was still the only choice.
Guan Yu and Zhao Yun departed together, intending to study military texts and hone their skills. In the future they would face both Wu and Wei—and neither planned to let such glory fall to others.
Eternal worship in the ancestral shrine?
Who could resist that temptation?
Zhuge Liang remained behind in the side hall, handling official affairs. In his spare moments, he planned to further analyze Wu's internal conflicts based on the light screen's words.
He had a strong intuition that later generations' ability to so cleanly summarize a faction's internal struggles must be based on a complete system of theory and methodology.
And that fascinated him.
Liu Bei, full of energy, hurried out to draft a letter to Ma Chao. Building goodwill early could never hurt.
As for Huang Zhong—he was already in Jing Province. Liu Bei planned to visit personally and show the utmost sincerity.
By coincidence, he ran into a maid carrying two-year-old A-Dou just outside the door.
The child beamed. "Daddy—hug!"
Liu Bei's smile vanished.
He snatched A-Dou into his arms, sat him on his knee, and smack-smack—two solid swats landed squarely on the child's backside.
A-Dou immediately wailed like a pig being slaughtered.
"Daddy! A-Dou was wrong! Waaah!"
Liu Bei's face was dark as thunder. He said nothing, simply tucked the child under his arm and strode off toward Huang Zhong's residence.
He had made up his mind.
From today on, he would personally discipline this son of his.
At the very least, A-Dou would not grow up to be someone whom later generations refused to even admit into the ancestral shrine.