Zhang Liao and Cao Zhi led several hundred elite cavalry, following the sounds of battle and rising smoke, racing toward a narrow mountain pass. The sight that awaited them stunned both the battle-hardened Zhang Liao and the novice Cao Zhi.
In the pass, a lone rider on a white horse, silver spear flashing like lightning, was surrounded by nearly a hundred Xiongnu cavalry! His ordinary, even tattered leather armor was soaked in blood, smeared both from enemies and his own wounds. Yet he stood tall like a pine tree, thrusting his spear with deadly precision. Each strike sent showers of blood, each sweep forced multiple enemies back.
Though clearly exhausted from prolonged combat, his horse bore wounds and he panted heavily, his gaze was fierce as an eagle’s—unyielding, sharp, unafraid. Around him, Xiongnu corpses formed a ring; none dared breach the line. Using the narrow terrain, he single-handedly held off nearly a hundred pursuers.
The Xiongnu, enraged and fearful, shouted and blew whistles, firing arrows like rain. Yet most were blocked by the spear or evaded with masterful horsemanship. Brave Xiongnu riders who charged forward were without exception knocked from their mounts by the elusive spear.
“Truly a tiger general!” Zhang Liao could not help but exclaim, awe sparkling in his eyes. “Such martial skill is rare even among ten thousand troops!”
Cao Zhi’s heart pounded with excitement. This was like a hero sprung from the pages of a legend—the white horse and silver spear before him matched the vague heroic figure he had long imagined.
“General! We must rescue him!” Cao Zhi urged.
Zhang Liao, seasoned in countless battles, would not miss this opportunity: “All troops, listen! Form a wedge! Charge! Target: assist the white-robed general!”
“Attack!” Hundreds of Cao troops surged forward like released tigers, with Zhang Liao at the tip, Cao Zhi close behind, crashing into the Xiongnu from the flank and rear.
Caught in a pincer, the Xiongnu’s morale broke instantly; they scattered in chaos.
Zhang Liao pursued, clearing the battlefield and tending to the wounded.
Cao Zhi could not restrain his eagerness, riding up close to the white horse general. Up close, the figure radiated awe-inspiring presence. Blood-soaked, weary, yet every line of his face and posture exuded righteousness and valor.
The general reined in his horse, saluted with a hoarse but clear voice: “Changshan Zhao Yun—Zhao Zilong! Thank you for your timely assistance!” His gaze swept over Zhang Liao’s armor and banners. “Do I know this general?”
It was indeed him—Changshan Zhao Zilong! Cao Zhi’s heart leapt. He quickly returned the salute: “I am Cao Zhi, son of Cao Sike, and this is General Zhang Liao under my father’s command!”
Zhao Yun’s stern face flickered with surprise, then softened into calm reflection: “I never thought I’d be rescued here by Cao Sike’s son and General Zhang. I, Yun, am humbled. My modest reputation is hardly worth mentioning.”
Zhang Liao bowed, his tone full of respect: “General Zhao, you are too modest! To face nearly a hundred Xiongnu alone in this narrow pass—your courage is unmatched. I am deeply impressed! May I ask why you are here, battling the Xiongnu?”
Zhao Yun’s expression darkened as he sighed: “It is a long story. After General Gongsun Zan’s defeat and self-immolation, I intended to retire to the mountains. Though Yuan Shao controlled Hebei, he is no wise ruler, and his subordinates are rife with infighting. I did not wish to join them. I wandered the land seeking a place of safety.”
He glanced at the fleeing Xiongnu and continued: “Recently, I traveled near Bingzhou’s borderlands when these Xiongnu raided south, burning villages and capturing women. Witnessing their suffering enraged me. I shadowed their camp, and last night, finding their defenses lax, I set fire to their supplies, creating chaos and rescuing some captured women. I knew I could not save them all, so I stayed behind to hold off the pursuers, hoping to delay them using the terrain. With so many enemies, the battle continued until now. Were it not for Cao Zhi’s timely arrival, I may have been overwhelmed.”
His words were calm, honest, and selfless—emphasizing the plight of the civilians rather than his own deeds. His noble and humble character commanded respect.
Cao Zhi, deeply impressed, felt the urge to recruit him: “General Zhao, your high sense of justice commands admiration. In these chaotic times, civilians suffer and need brave, righteous warriors like you. My father, though talented, seeks to restore order. Your unparalleled skill should not remain hidden in the wild. Why not—”
Zhao Yun raised a hand, interrupting gently but firmly, his eyes clear and sincere: “Cao young master, I understand your kind offer. I have long admired your father’s talent. Yet my nature is free and wandering; I fear I cannot conform to military discipline. My actions tonight stemmed from righteous anger, not ambition. My body and mind are weary; I only wish for a quiet place to recover. As for joining your army… I must, I’m afraid, decline for now.”
Though polite, his refusal was clear. Zhao Yun bore his own reservations toward Cao Cao—historically, the steadfast Changshan Zhao Yun remained loyal to the Han.
Cao Zhi carefully rephrased, showing concern: “General, why not travel with us for now? You can rest, heal your wounds, and ensure the rescued women reach safety. Once the situation stabilizes, you may go your own way. I would never force you. We will provide transport and escort when you leave.”
Zhang Liao added: “What the young master says is wise. General Zhao, you are the nation’s pillar. Your skill should protect people; otherwise it would be wasted.”
Zhao Yun hesitated, seeming to make a decision. He bowed: “Thank you, young master. Very well, I shall accompany you.”
Cao Zhi had Zhang Liao send a messenger to notify Xu Huang, then personally escorted Zhao Yun and the rescued women to safety.