Chapter 4- Cao Cao - Heroic and....

So the court's in chaos and Dong Zhuo, he wastes absolutely no time. His first move, he needs to handle any opposition. And that starts with the very formidable Yuan Shao. Dong Zhuo was apparently ready to kill him, just right then and there. Which tells you something, right? Even someone with that much raw power, they still listen to counsel sometimes. They understand maybe restraint has strategic value. Exactly. Li Ru knew timing was everything. It wasn't about whether Yuan Shao was a threat. He definitely was. But how to handle him without, you know, blowing things up even worse. And Yuan Shao, he clearly gets the message. He makes this incredibly dramatic exit. Oh yeah. Carries his sword, hangs his official seal publicly at the East Gate, resigns his post, and just flees to Jizhou. It's not a quiet retreat. It's a statement. Defiance, even as he's leaving. A very visible act. Meanwhile, Dong Zhuo is making sure everyone else falls in line. He goes directly to Yuan Shao's uncle, Yuan Wei, who's the grand tutor. Imagine that confrontation. Right. And asks him about deposing the emperor. And Yuan Wei, under who knows what kind of pressure, he's forced to agree. Then comes the hammer. Dong Zhuo lays down this explicit threat to everyone there. Oppose my great plan, he says. And you face military law. Execution. And the result. Predictable, really. Universal submission. The ministers are terrified. Nobody says a word. So, okay, he's got the court silenced. But what about Yuan Shao? He's out there. He's fled. And his family... That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? His family has established influence for four generations. That's huge. Think about it. Nearly a century of building networks, loyalty, disciples, subordinates all over the land. Yuan Shao could be a massive rallying point. So Dong Zhuo needs advice on this one. He does. He consults his imperial secretary, Zhu Bi, and a colonel, Wu Kong. And Zhu Bi gives him this really insightful warning. He says, look, if you go after Yuan Shao now with all that influence behind him, he could easily gather heroes, raise an army. Chen Dong, Zhu Bi says, could become completely ungovernable for you. So what's the alternative? Zhu Bi's suggestion is, well, strategic. Pardon him. Appoint him as a county governor somewhere. Make him, quote, happy to avoid punishment. Basically co-opt him, neutralize the immediate threat. Strategic, pardon. Is that pragmatism or setting a trap? Probably a bit of both, but definitely pragmatic. Wu Kong chimes in, too. He apparently thinks Yuan Shao is good at plotting, but indecisive. Sort of underestimates him, maybe. Says he's not enough to worry about. But he still agrees with the appointment. He agrees appointing him governor would win public support. It looks magnanimous, right? So Dong Zhu takes their advice. Immediately sends someone off to make Yuan Shao the Bohai prefect. It's a fascinating move. It shows it's not just about brute force. You disarm opposition sometimes by bringing them in, even if it's temporary. Denies them that rallying cry, buys you time. Exactly. It's a key part of consolidating power. But then comes the main event, the imperial coup itself. And Dong Zhu, oh my goodness, he makes a spectacle of it. Right. This wasn't done quietly in the back rooms. Not at all. First day of the ninth month, he summons everyone, all civil and military officials to the jihadi hall. And he stands there, sword drawn, and declares the current emperor, Emperor Shao, weak and unfit to rule the world. Just lays it out there, the audacity. And then Li Ru steps forward again, ordered to read the formal decree. And this decree, it's a master class in, well, political justification or manipulation, depending on how you see it. What does it actually say? How do they frame it? Oh, it lays it on thick. Accuses the emperor of being frivolous, lacking dignity, being lazy during mourning, generally unvirtuous. Says he's brought shame to the great position. Wow. And the Empress Dowager, she gets blamed too. Yep. Empress Dowager. He is accused of lacking a motherly example, causing chaotic governance. They even bring up the violent death of a previous Empress Dowager, to stir up the sense of confusion and disorder. It's all about building this narrative. The current regime is illegitimate, corrupt, failing. So they tear down the old emperor and Empress Dowager, and then they have to build up the replacement, right? Precisely. They claim the three cardinal guides and heavenly principles, the very foundation of social and moral order legitimizing rule, are incomplete under the current emperor. It's a devastating charge. And then they pivot. Praise for Prince Qianlu Liyi, the second son of the previous Emperor Ling. What do they say about him? He's just a kid at this point. They paint him as the ideal. Greatly virtuous, upright, properly sorrowful during mourning, speaks no evil, has a good reputation known throughout the world. They declare him fit to inherit the great enterprise, and rule for, you know, 10,000 generations. Standard imperial rhetoric, but powerful in this context. So it's not just a removal, it's presented as a necessary correction, a restoration of virtue. The Empire of Braves. And after the reading, it gets physical. Dong Zuo orders guards to literally drag the emperor off the throne. They strip him of his imperial seal, make him kneel facing north, the position of a subject acknowledging the ruler. Humiliating. Completely. The Empress Dowager, he's also told to take off her mourning clothes. Just wait for orders. The sources say the emperor and Empress Dowager were just wailing, crying uncontrollably, and all the ministers watching. Sad and tragic. Just imagine the atmosphere. Fear, sadness, shock, and presumably silence for most. Overwhelmingly silence. Except for one person. Ah, yes. Dingguan. The imperial secretary, Shang Xu. He just snaps. He's in rage. He shouts out, calls Dong Zuo a traitorous minister, accuses him of a heaven-deceiving plot, and declares he'll splatter his own blood before letting this happen. Basically over my dead body. That's incredible courage given the circumstances. Did he actually do anything? He did more than shout. He lunges, attacks Dong Zuo directly with his ivory scepter, his Xianzhan. He physically attacked Dong Zuo. Yes. In front of everyone. Struck right at him. Dong Zuo, predictably, is absolutely furious. Orders his guards to seize Dingguan and execute him. Right there. And Dingguan. The account says he cursed Dong Zuo relentlessly, right up until the moment he died. His expression never changed. Just absolute defiance. Wow, that's quite a story. It really is. And a later poem apparently singles him out. Laments the Han dynasty falling to Dong Zuo, but praises Dingguan as the only true man, the only Zangfu among all those officials. It really highlights that contrast, doesn't it? The sea of acquiescence and this one single point of fiery resistance. It really does. It shows that even when power seems absolute, individual conviction can still make a mark, even if it costs everything. It shatters that illusion of total control. So Dingguan is executed. What happens next? The new order takes shape. Immediately. Dong Zuo wastes no time. He invites Prince Chen Liu, the young boy, to ascend the throne. All the ministers bow. It's done. And the old emperor, the Prince of Hongnong, as he's now called. He, along with Empress Dowager, he and imperial consort Tang are confined, locked away in Yongin Palace. No ministers allowed in. Out of sight, out of mind. And it all happens so fast. He said he only became emperor in the fourth month. That's right. Ascended in the fourth month, deposed in the ninth. Just five months on the throne. A brutally short reign. So the new emperor is Lu Shi, Prince Chen Liu. He becomes Emperor Xian. He's only nine years old. Nine years old. Yeah. And the era name is changed to Shiping, meaning beginning peace, ironically enough. And Dong Zuo's position, solidified. He's made prime minister, Xiangguo. And gets those special privileges. Oh, yeah. Exempt from bowing. Doesn't have to rush in court. Can wear his sword and shoes right into the imperial hall. The text calls his power unrivaled. He's effectively the emperor in all but name. But even with that kind of power, that military dominance, there's still a sense that it's not quite enough, isn't there? He needs legitimacy. Absolutely. Brute force can seize power, but holding it, making it stick, that often requires something more. Public acceptance, or at least acquiescence. And Li Ru advises him on this too. He does. Li Ru tells him, you need to recruit famous scholars, bring respected figures into your government. It helps build that popular support, that veneer of legitimacy. And he recommends someone specific. Recommends Cai Yang, a very famous, highly respected scholar and official. Dong Zuo summons him. But Cai Yang refuses at first. He does. Doesn't want to be associated with Dong Zuo's regime, presumably. And Dong Zuo's reaction shows that blend of wanting legitimacy, but still relying on, well, terror. Exactly. Dong Zuo gets angry. Sends Cai Yang a message that's basically, show up or I exterminate your entire clan. Just like that. Come work for me or I kill your whole family. Pretty much. It's stark. And Cai Yang, faced with that, he complies. Out of fear, the text says. Understandable. But then Dong Zuo's reaction when Cai Yang arrives is interesting. It is. Dong Zuo is reportedly overjoyed to see him. He promotes Cai Yang three times in a single month. Makes him an imperial secretary. Treats him with great warmth. Keeps him close. Why go to such lengths for one scholar, especially after threatening him, when you already have all the military power? Because it's about more than just swords and soldiers, isn't it? True authority, the kind that endures, needs intellectual and moral backing, or at least the appearance of it. Cai Yang's presence, even though coerced, lent Dong Zuo's regime a certain prestige, a connection to the respected scholarly tradition. It helped in building that broader public acceptance, or at least quietening opposition. It's crucial for stability. Things really unravel for the imperial family. Emperor Xiao, Empress He, Consort Tang. They're basically imprisoned in Yong'en Palace. Yeah, confined. And it's not just being stuck there. It's the way they're slowly deprived. Less food, older clothes. It's methodical, almost. Designed to break them down. The young emperor, Xiao, apparently just cried constantly. There's this one moment the source mentions. He sees swallows flying outside, and he just comes out with this poem. Oh, yeah. That part's quite something. Tender grass, green-like smoke, graceful twin swallows fly. He talks about the Luo River, looking towards his old palace. And then that line, Who will rely on loyalty and righteousness to relieve the resentment in my heart? And that's the hook Dong Zuo needs. It's chilling how he takes this expression of pure sorrow, of loss, and twists it. He calls it resentment. It's proof the emperor deserves death. Just turns grief into treason. Exactly. Psychological manipulation alongside the brute force. So he sends his guy, Li Ru, with ten soldiers straight to the palace. Okay, so Li Ru shows up. But he doesn't just, you know, barge in swinging. He offers them wine. Longevity wine. What's that about? It's this really macabre, twisted gesture, like a final insult. Empress, he sees right through it, of course. She asks him, you know, if it's for longevity, why don't you drink it? Good point. Right. And Li Ru just loses it. He gets furious, refuses, and then just lays out the options. A knife or a white silk cord. Suicide. Horrible choices. And then Consort Tang, she actually kneels and begs to drink the poison herself. Asks Li Ru to spare the emperor and empress. It's unbelievably brave, but totally futile. Li Ru just dismisses her. Curses her, yeah. And Empress, he, in this moment, she kind of lets loose. She blames her own brother, He Jin, the one who invited Dong Zuo in the first place. Realizes his massive mistake led them here. Ah, the tragic irony. And even then, facing death, they find their voices. The emperor sings the farewell song. Heaven and earth change. Abandon the throne. Life is short. Tears flow in vain. It's heartbreaking. And Consort Tang, too. Yes, she sings one, too. About heaven collapsing, her fate, loneliness. Just utter despair captured in song. While Li Ru's just standing there, tapping his foot, basically. Pretty much. He snaps at them. The prime minister's waiting for my report. Who do you think is coming to save you? Just pure impatience and cruelty. Curses. Cursing Dong Zuo. Cursing his allies. Wishing their whole families would be wiped out. Right up until the end. And how does it, how does it end? It's brutal. Li Ru, uh, apparently grabs Empress He's and throws her from the window of the building. Orders the soldiers to strangle Consort Tang. And they force the poisoned wine down the emperor's throat. Just horrific. Absolutely. And Dong Zuo, he just orders them buried outside the city. No ceremony, nothing. Like they were garbage. It shows his complete disregard. But sadly, things only got worse from there. Right. Because his reign of terror wasn't just about eliminating rivals. It spread, didn't it? Into the palace itself. Oh, definitely. The sources say he was in the palace every night, abusing the palace women. Even sleeping in the former emperor's own bed. It's just a complete violation on every level. Power mixed with pure personal depravity. And this abuse wasn't just confined to the palace walls, was it? There's the Yang Cheng incident. Yeah, the Yang Cheng massacre. That's a particularly, uh, grim example of his cruelty and also how he used terror quite cynically. What happened there? So his army marches out to Yang Cheng one day in February. The villagers are all gathered, apparently for some kind of community festival. An easy target. Oh no. Yeah. Dong Zuo just orders his soldiers, surround them, kill all the men. Just like that. Then they loot everything, take all the wealth, seize the women. Soul destruction. And the return. It was designed to shock. They load up carts with the loot and underneath the carts they hang over a thousand severed heads. Parading them back to the capital. Exactly. And then Dong Zuo announces they've won a great victory against, quote, thieves. It's such a bald-faced, terrifying lie. A performance of terror. Absolutely. He then has the heads burned outside the city gates, distributes the loot and the captured women to his soldiers. It's a message. I can do anything to anyone and claim it's justified. Total impunity. It paints such a bleak picture. It seems like there was just no hope, no way to resist. It must have felt that way for so many. But, you know, even in that kind of darkness, you still find sparks. Which brings us to Yuki Colonel Wufu. Wufu. Right. What did he do? Well, the sources say he was just consumed by rage at Dong Zuo's cruelty. He couldn't stand it. So he decides to act. Alone, it seems. How? What was the plan? Audacious, really. He wears light armor under his court robes, hides a dagger, and basically waits for an opportunity during a court meeting. Right there, in front of everyone? Well, near the inner chambers. As Dong Zuo enters, Wufu confronts him, whips out the dagger, and goes straight for him. Tries to stab him. Wow. That takes guts. Did he succeed? Unfortunately, no. Dong Zuo was apparently incredibly strong physically. He managed to grapple with Wufu, and then his adopted son, the famous warrior Lu Bu, jumped in immediately and overpowered Wufu. Ah, Lu Bu. Of course. So they caught him. They did. And Dong Zuo demands, you know, who put you up to this? Who told you to rebel? And Wufu's response? It's amazing. Just pure, undiluted defiance. He basically shouts, you're not my ruler. I'm not your subject. What rebellion? Your crimes fill the heavens. Everyone wants you dead. I just wish I could tear you apart myself for the world. Incredible. Facing certain death, and he just lets him have it. Absolutely fearless in that moment. Dong Zuo, naturally, is furious. Orders him dismembered on the spot. Dismembered. Yeah. And the account says Wufu just kept cursing Dong Zuo until his very last breath. Wow. Just, wow. That kind of courage is hard to fathom. It really is. And he wasn't forgotten. There's a poem praising him later. Calls him a loyal minister, towering spirit, a true man for the ages. Even though he failed to kill Dong Zuo, the act itself resonated. Did it have any effect on Dong Zuo himself? Do we know? Well, the sources suggest it did make him even more paranoid. After that, he apparently never went anywhere without a heavy guard of armed soldiers right beside him. So Wufu's act, even in failure, struck a nerve. It showed the hatred wasn't just hidden. A visible sign of his fear. Exactly. And Dong Zuo has seized control. He's a tyrant. So the Han Dynasty is basically falling apart. Pretty much. And the mood at court is just bleak. Fear, helplessness, suffocating. Okay, so into this despair comes a spark. Yuan Shao, who's away from the capital, sends a secret letter to Wang Yan, a top official. What's the gist? It's desperate. Yuan Shao is basically saying, look, this guy Dong Zuo is destroying everything, deceiving heaven, pushing aside the emperor. He's appealing to Wang Yan's loyalty. It's urgent. A call to action against a tyrant. Yeah. But Wang Yan can't just, you know, march out and challenge him. That's suicide. No way. So he comes up with this really clever plan. He pretends it's his birthday. A birthday party? Yeah. Throws a banquet, invites all the important officials. It's a way to get them all together without Dong Zuo getting suspicious. Wow. That tells you a lot about the atmosphere, doesn't it? The fear. You need that kind of subterfuge just to talk. Exactly. Direct confrontation. Impossible. So Wang Yan uses this social custom, this party, to create a sort of safe space. It shows that leadership then wasn't always loud declarations. Sometimes it was these subtle, really risky moves. And the party itself, it takes a turn. Wang Yan, after some wine, just breaks down weeping. Covers his face, sobbing. And it's not just him. He tells everyone, look, this isn't my birthday. I called you here to mourn the Han dynasty. And everyone joins in. The whole room. High-ranking officials just weeping together. It's this powerful public display of grief, but it's also like a shared understanding. A silent promise. It turns that private despair into something actionable. So the room is filled with weeping. Total despair. And then the mood just shatters. Yeah. In walks Cao Cao, cavalry commander. And he's not crying. What does he do? He laughs. Boldly. Loudly. Laughs at them. Pretty much. It's shocking, right? But it's calculated. Cao Cao sees their despair as useless, paralyzing. His laughter is meant to wake them up. It certainly says something about his character. Pragmatic. Impatient. Definitely. He basically tells them, tears won't beat Dong Zuo. Only action will. And he doesn't just criticize. He offers a solution. A really audacious one. Oh yeah. He challenges them first. Can you cry Dong Zuo to death? Real cutting. Then he just drops it. I'll do it. I'll kill him myself. And I'll hang his head on the city gate for everyone to see. It's this huge claim. Part challenge, part promise. Is he a hero or just reckless? And Wang Yun's reaction. He's thrilled. Overjoyed, even. He immediately says, I have just the thing. And offers Cao Cao his own prized sword. The seven-jeweled sword. Sounds impressive. It is. Described as over a foot long, inlaid with seven jewels, incredibly sharp. But it's more than just a weapon, right? In a story like this. Symbolism. Exactly. It's trust. Hope. Wang Yun is basically handing over his family heirloom, maybe his own ambitions, to this, uh, this bold young guy. It raises the stakes immensely. Cao Cao is now the chosen one for this mission. So Cao Cao takes the sword, swears an oath, drinks, and he's off. No hesitation. None. The next day, he's at Dong Zhu's place. Asked to see the chancellor. Gets shown into a small room. And there's Dong Gu. Boy, there's a catch, isn't there? A huge one. Dong Zhu isn't alone. Lu Bu is right there. Lu Bu. His adopted son. The legendary warrior. The very same. Standing guard right beside him. How do you assassinate someone with him watching? It looks impossible. So what happens? Does Cao Cao back down? Well, here's where things get interesting. Maybe it's luck. Maybe fate. Dong Zhu sees Cao Cao and tells Lu Bu, hey, go pick out a good horse for Meng Di. One of those fast ones from the western regions. He sends Lu Bu away. Just like that. Sends the biggest obstacle away to pick out a gift. It creates this tiny, perfect window. Maybe Dong Zhu was flattered. Maybe just showing off his generosity. Incredible timing. Yeah. Dong Zhu himself, he's not exactly agile, is he? No. The text says he's fat and unable to sit for long, so he actually lies down on the couch, turns his face inward. Making it even easier for Cao Cao. Perfect angle. Unobserved. Cao Cao draws the seven-jeweled sword. He's ready. This is it. But there's always a but in these stories. Always. Just as Cao Cao raises the sword, Dong Zhu glances up into a mirror. A mirror? Oh no. Yeah, a clothing mirror above him. He sees the reflection. Cao Cao behind him. Sword drawn. Totally. Dong Zhu whips around. Night and day! What are you doing? The moment's gone. Fate intervenes. Or maybe just bad luck. So Cao Cao is caught. Red-handed. Sword out. Lu Bu is probably on his way back any second. What does he do? This is where Cao Cao's genius shines. Pure improvisation under insane pressure. He doesn't fight. Or run. Nope. Lightning fast, he drops to his knees. Holds up the sword like an offering. An offering? Yes. He says something like, I have this treasured sword, and I wanted to present it to you, my benefactor. Wow. From assassin to loyal gift giver in a split second. That's remarkable cunning. It's incredible. Shows his mental agility right. He doesn't panic. He instantly reads the situation and flips the script. Yeah. The deadly weapon becomes a token of loyalty. It's pure survival instinct mixed with brilliant deception. And Dong Zhu obeys it. Seems so. He takes the sword, looks it over, sees it's beautiful, sharp. Just then Lu Bu walks back in. Perfect timing again. Dong Zhu just hands the sword to Lu Bu. Here, keep this. The immediate danger for Cao Cao has passed, but the tension must have been unbelievable. So how does he get out of there? He still has to escape. Well, Dong Zhu, maybe happy with his new treasure, leads Cao Cao outside to look at the horses Lu Bu brought. The horses meant as a gift for Cao Cao originally. The irony. Right. So Cao Cao plays along, acts grateful. Then he says, could I perhaps test ride one? And Dong Zhu lets him. He agrees. Cao Cao gets on a horse, thanks Dong Zhu again, then boom. Pulls the reins, whips the horse, and he's gone. Galloping southeast, out of the mansion as fast as he can. Leaving Dong Zhu and Lu Bu just standing there, probably confused. Exactly. A completely bewildered tyrant and his bodyguard. Cao Cao made it out by the skin of his teeth. What an absolutely incredible sequence. It really shows Cao Cao's mix of, well, sheer guts and that amazing quick thinking. And the amazing thing is the assassination failed. He didn't kill Dong Zhu, but the attempt itself. That's what cemented his legend. Right. It showed everyone he was willing to risk everything. He was decisive, cunning, brave against impossible odds. It really set the stage for everything else he did later in the story. Well, right after Cao Cao's failed attempt on Dong Zhu, that's Dong Zhu. Now, Dong Zhu's fierce adopted son, Lu Bu, he's immediately suspicious. He points out Cao Cao's odd behavior, you know, pushing the knife forward like it's a gift, not just pulling it out normally. Yeah, and Dong Zhu then confirms it. He says, yeah, I had my own doubts already. What's really striking here is how fast that suspicion just clicks into place, even among people who are supposed to trust each other. It really highlights, I think, the fragile nature of power back then, and this constant threat of betrayal that rulers like Dong Zhu always lived with. You always had to watch your back. Always. In that world, everyone was watching everyone else. The smallest slip-up could be, well, fatal. So while they're having this tense discussion, Li Ru, Li Ru, Dong Zhu's strategist, he arrives. And they quickly fill him in on what just happened. And Li Ru, he's way too smart for just blind rage. He gets that anger isn't a strategy. His first thought is verification. How do we know? And he comes up with this brilliant, almost deceptively simple test. OK, what's the test? Just send four jailers to summon Tao Tao. That's it. The logic being, look, if Tao Tao just comes along without any fuss, OK, maybe it really was just an awkward gift-giving moment. But if he makes excuses, if he tries to dodge them, or if he's already gone, and well, that confirms the assassination attempt. Then it's easy. Capture him, question him. It's a really smart, low-risk way to figure out the truth. OK, so Li Ru's clever trap is set. The jailers head off to find Tao Tao. What happens? Well, they come back pretty quickly, and the news they bring tells Li Ru everything. Cao Cao wasn't at his lodgings. Not there at all. He'd already grabbed his horse and ridden out of the east gate fast. Apparently, when the gate officer stopped him and asked, Tao just said, the prime minister sent me on urgent public business. Plausible, maybe? Plausible enough to get past the guard anyway. He just rode off, didn't wait for follow-up questions. And Li Ru's reaction must have been instant. Oh, absolutely. Sharp, straight to the point. He says, basically, Tao thief. His heart failed him. He fled. Assassination is undoubted. He connects the dots immediately. It confirms everything they suspected. And Dong Zhu, I imagine he just explodes at this point. Total fury. You get this real sense of personal betrayal from him. He actually exclaims, I valued him so much, but he wants to harm me. It's that classic tyrant's reaction, isn't it? The mask of benevolence just shatters the second their power is challenged. It really is. And Li Ru, ever the pragmatist, immediately says, well, he must have accomplices. Gotta round them up too. Right, can't leave any loose ends. Exactly. So Dong Zhu orders wanted posters. Everywhere. Detailed descriptions, drawings of Tao Tao. And the reward is enormous. A thousand gold, plus the sealing of 10,000 households. Basically making someone a major feudal lord. Wow. That's a serious incentive. Huge. But there's also the stick. Dire consequences for anyone caught helping him or hiding him. And if you look at the bigger picture here, this moment really solidifies Tao Tao as a marked man. It shows just how brutally efficient Dong Zhu's regime could be when it felt threatened. A marked man, for sure. And that kind of attention means you can't stay hidden for long, can you? So his desperate flight towards Cao County. It gets cut short pretty fast. He's captured by gate guards at a place called Zongwu County. Cornered. And he immediately tries to bluff his way out. Claims he's just a merchant, surname Huangfu. Trying to create some doubt, maybe. Buys himself a little time, perhaps. But the county magistrate there, he's not so easily fooled. He looks Tao Tao over really carefully, scrutinizes him. And then, uh-oh, recognition dawns. He knows him. He does. He recognizes Tao Tao from a previous time back in Luoyang, the capital, when the magistrate himself was actually looking for an official position. Small world. So much for the merchant disguise. Tao Tao's cover is blown. Completely. So now Tao Tao's really in trouble. In jail. Identity confirmed. The magistrate seems to have made up his mind, right? The plan is, hold him overnight, send him back to the capital first thing in the morning. Collect that massive reward. Seems straightforward. They even give the guards who caught him some food and drink, like, job well done, boys. It looks like it's game over for Tao Tao. But then, as night falls, something really unexpected happens. This is where it gets interesting. It really does. Late that night, the county magistrate does something very strange. He secretly brings Tao Tao out of the jail cell and into his private backyard. Wants a private chat. This is definitely not standard procedure. Not at all. Highly irregular. And the magistrate starts with this question, quite direct. I heard the prime minister treated you well. Why did you bring this misfortune upon yourself? Yeah, he's basically asking, why betray someone who is good to you? Challenging his loyalty or lack thereof. And Tao Tao's reply here is just amazing. So defiant. It really is. He says, how can sparrows know the ambitions of a swan? Wow. Since you've caught me, just send me for the reward. Why ask so much? It's such a pivotal line, isn't it? Absolutely. It tells you so much about his character, that conviction. He's not just being cocky. He's projecting this image, this reputation almost, of being someone with a much grander purpose. He's daring the magistrate to see beyond just the captured fugitive. And incredibly, the magistrate seems to respond to that. He does something really surprising next. Totally unexpected. He dismisses his attendants, makes sure they're alone, and then confides in Tao Tao. He says something like, look, I'm not just some common official, and then adds, I just haven't met my true lord yet. Whoa, that's a huge admission. It suggests he's deeply unhappy with Dong Zhu's rule himself. Exactly. He's basically signaling his own descent, his own search for something better. And Tao Tao, sensing this opening, this potential connection, he shares his real motivation. Well. He explains, you know, my ancestors, they served the Han dynasty faithfully for generations. My pretending to serve Dong Zhu, that was just a cover. A means to an end. Precisely. Right. A way to get close enough to kill him and, as he puts it, rid the nation of this evil. He sees his capture now as just bad luck or heaven's will. So he lays it all out there. He does. And what's so fascinating here is this sudden meeting of minds, the shared ideal popping up between two guys who, minutes ago, were captured and captive. It really shines a light on that hidden network of, let's say, descent and maybe quiet loyalty to the old dynasty that must have existed just beneath the surface, waiting for a spark. Waiting for someone like Tao Tao to articulate that vision. Right. So the magistrate, clearly intrigued now, asks Tao Tao, OK, so what are your plans now? Assuming he gets out of this mess. And Tao Tao's vision, even captured like this, is incredibly audacious. What does he say? He says he wants to get back to his homeland, issue a false edict, basically, forge an imperial decree. Bold. Very bold. And use that decree to summon all the regional lords, raise a massive allied army, and march together to punish Dong Zhu. He finishes by saying, this is my wish. Just lays out this grand, rebellious plan. And the magistrate's reaction is immediate and powerful. He personally unties Tao Tao's bonds. Unties him. Unties him, helps him to a seat of honor, bows to him twice a sign of deep respect, and declares, you truly are a loyal and righteous man of the realm. Incredible. A complete 180. Totally. He's found his true lord right there in his backyard. Tao Tao must have been stunned. Does he ask who this guy is? He does. He asks for his name and learns he is Chen Gong pronounced Chen Gong, courtesy name Gong Tai. Chen Gong. A name to remember. Absolutely. And then Chen Gong makes this incredible offer. He's so moved by Tao Tao's loyalty, this shared vision. He says he's willing to abandon his post right then and there. Give up his job. Give up his job, leave his family behind temporarily in Dong County, and escape with Cao Cao. Wow. Just think about that decision. He's throwing everything away, career, safety, family ties. All to join a fugitive. He literally just met hours ago. All based on this shared ideal of taking down a tyrant. It really speaks volumes about how desperate things were under Dong Zuo, and how much people were yearning for a leader they could believe in. It really does. So just like that, in a single night, Tao Tao goes from being this hunted man facing almost certain death, to gaining this incredibly devoted, like-minded ally for his huge mission. It's an astonishing turnaround. They immediately get ready, right? Yeah. Chang Gong packs money for the road. They change their clothes to be less conspicuous. Each grabs a sword. And they get on horses and ride off together towards Cao Cao's hometown, ready to try and start this massive rebellion. It's such a pivot from utter despair to this, well, audacious hope. Yeah. They're fugitives. Yeah, the court had issued urgent warrants for Cao Cao's arrest. Big trouble. You can just imagine the pressure. Right. So they're desperately looking for refuge, and this leads them to a place called Chang Gao. Okay. And they arrive at the home of a man named Lu Bo Xia. Now, Lu Bo Xia is actually Cao Cao's father's sworn brother. So there's a connection. Ah, okay. So like an uncle figure, almost. Sort of, yeah. And Lu Bo Xia welcomes them right away, you know, offers hospitality. Seems like a safe haven. That initial feeling, that sense of trust, because of the family connection and the expectation of safety, that's really crucial here. Definitely. It sets up everything that follows. It really does. It makes the turn even more dramatic. And Lu Bo Xia, wanting to be a really good host, says he's going to pop out to a nearby village to grab some good wine for them. Okay. Seems reasonable enough. So he leaves Cao Cao and Chang Gao alone in the house. And this, this is where things take a really dark turn. Oh. From the back of the house, they suddenly hear this ominous grinding sound. A grinding sound. Weird. Yeah. And then they hear voices, and the voices are saying something like, Bind and kill him, how about it? Whoa. Okay. That does not sound good. Not at all. And this is like the trigger for Cao Cao's immediate extreme suspicion. Right. The source sort of lays out his thinking, doesn't it? He's like, Lu Bo Xia is an immediate family. Leaving right now seems fishy. We need to listen in. Exactly. He jumps straight to the worst possible conclusion. He thinks it's a trap. It's striking how fast that happens, isn't it? No benefit of the doubt. None. And his decision is just terrifyingly quick. He basically says, if we don't strike first, they'll capture us for sure. Wow. Okay. Preemptive strike thinking. Totally. And with that thought, he and Chen Gong just draw their swords, rush towards the sound. Oh boy. And they kill everyone they find back there. Men, women. Eight people in total. Just like that. Eight people. Based on a sound and overheard words that is extreme. It seems like a massive overreaction, doesn't it? I mean, what's really going through his head? How much is genuine fear versus paranoia or maybe calculated survival instincts kicking in? That's really the million dollar question, isn't it? For Tao Tao, in this situation, he's a fugitive. Remember, the court wants him dead. Right. The stakes are incredibly high. Exactly. So the line between a perceived threat and an actual threat is probably razor thin in his mind. He's under immense pressure. So he defaults to preemption. Striking first, even just on suspicion, becomes his form of self-preservation. So it reveals something fundamental about him. I think so. It suggests he believes the world is inherently dangerous, treacherous even, and you have to act decisively, maybe even ruthlessly, just to survive. And the horror, it doesn't actually stop there, does it? Because after the killing, they find out the truth in the kitchen. The victim they heard being discussed. Let me guess. He was a pig, tied up, ready to be slaughtered for their dinner. Oh man, a pig. Chen Gong's reaction is just immediate dismay. He basically cries out, Tao Tao, you're too suspicious. You've killed good people by mistake. You can just feel that gut punch, can't you? That awful, daunting realization. A colossal, irreversible mistake. Horrifying. So, completely shaken, Tao Tao and Chen Gong just get out of there. They leave the village hastily. Can't blame them. They haven't gone very far. The text says maybe Tu Li, which is what, like two-thirds of a mile? Maybe a kilometer? So not far at all. Okay. And who do they run into coming the other way? Oh no, don't tell me. Lubosha. Returning from the village, he's got two bottles of wine, fruit, vegetable. Oh, this is awful. And he calls out to them, completely friendly, genuinely puzzled. Hey, my good nephew, Sir Chen Gong, why are you leaving already? I told my family to kill a pig for you. Why the rush? Oh, the dramatic irony is just painful. And what happens next really cements Tao Tao's character arc, doesn't it? It really does. It's even more chilling. So Tao Tao, hearing Lubosha, he doesn't apologize? He doesn't explain? No. He just turns his horse, asks, almost rhetorically, who's that coven? Setting him up. Yeah. And as Lubosha turns his head, presumably to see who Tao Tao is talking about, Tao Tao rides up and strikes him dead with his sword, knocks him right off his donkey wheel. Just cold-blooded. Yeah. After the man offered him shelter and was bringing him wine. Chen Gong is just completely horrified. He shouts, that was a mistake just now. What are you doing now? Like, this is different. This isn't paranoia. This is murder. And Tao Tao's explanation, it just lays bare that brutal pragmatism, doesn't it? It's chilling. He basically says, look, if he goes home, sees his whole family dead, how could he possibly let that go? He'd raise the alarm, gather people, come after us, we'd be doomed. So eliminate the witness. Eliminate the future threat. Exactly. It's not just cold logic, though. It feels like a foundational principle for him, especially for leaders who operate in these kinds of zero-sum game environments. What's really insightful is how quickly that initial mistake, born of suspicion, just hardens into this ruthless, preemptive strike. It's not just about survival anymore. It's defining his whole approach to leadership. And then he delivers that line, the one everyone remembers, the one that just sums it all up. Yeah. Better I betray the world than let the world betray me. Chilling. Absolutely chilling. And Shen Gong's reaction tells you everything. The text just says it. Moron. Silence. Yeah, but it's not just quiet. It's that deep, heavy, profound silence. You know, it carries the whole weight of the moment. Shock, disillusionment. It's all in that one word. No need for anything else. So later that night, they find an inn to stay at. Tao Tao actually falls asleep. Probably exhausted. Or maybe just able to compartmentalize. Maybe. But Shen Gong, he can't sleep. He's tormented by everything that happened. It's just replaying in his mind. You can imagine the sounds, the sights, the quote. And his internal struggle is huge. He's thinking, I thought this guy, Tao Tao, was a good man. That's why I left my job, my official post, to follow him. But he's like a wolf in human clothing, a scoundrel. If I let him live, he's going to cause so much more suffering in the future. He'll be a calamity. And that really highlights something critical, doesn't it? How fragile loyalty can be when someone's core values are just tramples on like that. Shen Gong's dilemma isn't just about what Tao Tao did, horrific as it was. It's about the moral compromise he's been forced to witness, right? It shatters the foundation of their relationship. So he's asking himself, can I follow this man anymore? Exactly. Can he align himself with someone whose methods are so drastically opposed to his own sense of right and wrong? It's a fundamental crisis. And the ultimate implication where his thoughts lead him, it's pre-Stark. Yeah. He actually considers killing Tao Tao right there in his sleep. Wow. From loyal follower to potential assassin in the space of a day. So what does all this mean? For how we understand Tao Tao, this incredibly dramatic, morally gray, really disturbing turning point for one of history's most complicated figures. And this single, brutal night? Yeah. It really does fundamentally shape Tao Tao's character, doesn't it? And his legacy. That image of the ruthless pragmatist, it starts right here, arguably. Yeah. It shows how choices made under extreme fear, driven by that desperate will to survive, can kind of solidify, harden to a philosophy.