Chapter 19: The Three Hunters

According to Zhang Hong’s analysis, once he succeeded in bringing Liu Xie to Wu Commandery and declared the relocation of the capital, Sun Ce would become the next Cao Cao. If he managed things well, Sun Ce’s control over Liu Xie would potentially surpass Cao Cao’s. After all, Cao Cao had been invited by Dong Cheng as an external ally; even after the capital was moved to Xuchang, most of the loyal ministers who followed Liu Xie eastward remained with him. Although Xuchang appeared to be firmly in Cao Cao’s grasp, undercurrents of dissent always lingered.

But Jiangdong was different. Though its territory was not vast, its people were united. Once the emperor arrived, Sun Ce’s army would be the rightful division of the Son of Heaven. Absorbing other factions would be a matter of course, and in a short time, they could amass the capital needed to vie for supremacy across the Central Plains.

Moreover, the geography of Jiangdong meant they could campaign without fear. With rivers and waterways crisscrossing the land, it was easy to defend and hard to attack. Even if they suffered defeat, as long as their navy remained, they need not worry about annihilation.

However, as Zhang Hong advised, until Liu Xie truly set foot in Wu Commandery, Sun Ce could tell no one—not even Zhang Zhao or Zhou Yu—about this matter.

After settling a host of affairs in Wu Commandery, and even beginning construction on an impressive palace in his own name, Sun Ce finally found a moment of leisure and suddenly remembered something. Before Zhang Hong’s departure, he had handed Sun Ce a letter, saying it was a special instruction from Liu Xie himself, which even he had not read; it was to be opened only once Sun Ce reached Wu Commandery.

Sun Ce, being a man of action, had forgotten about it in the bustle of recent days. Now, his curiosity could not be contained. He opened the letter and found only a few brief lines. Yet after a single glance, he seized the letter and tore it to shreds, his chest heaving with emotion—clearly, whatever Liu Xie had written had stirred his ire.

“That Liu Xie—he truly knows how to push one’s patience too far!”

He paced the floor for a long while before finally calming himself. Then, as if recalling something important, he bent down and gathered the torn fragments. Seeing that the letter had only been ripped into three or four pieces, he breathed a sigh of relief, pieced it back together, and, brow furrowed, read it carefully word by word from the beginning.

“In the mountains of Dantu… This is the wager I make with you—what of it? If you lose, you can use this as an excuse, and none will call me, Sun Ce, a traitor to the nation!”

That night, Sun Ce slept late. He summoned a handful of his most trusted bodyguards who had followed him through life and death, and together they discussed matters for several hours. As to what they deliberated, only Sun Ce and those few confidants would ever know.

The next day, during council, Sun Ce announced that in three days he would go hunting in the Dantu mountains, hoping to find some respite from the fatigue of years of war.

Such an activity was hardly unusual. Sun Ce had been riding into the mountains to hunt since his teens, always returning with spoils. It was a habit of his, and as he would be accompanied only by his closest guards, none objected or found reason for suspicion.

Three days later, at dawn, Sun Ce rode out from his residence, clad in soft armor, a short blade at his waist, and a powerful bow slung over his back—once again prepared for a fruitful hunt.

The Dantu mountains were thick with trees and the paths treacherous, a place where ordinary hunters dared not venture. Only those of great skill could ride there, and apart from Sun Ce, who treated it as his private garden, few dared enter its depths.

As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Sun Ce and his party galloped swiftly into the mountains.

Halfway up the slope, three men dressed as hunters watched them intently. The man in front wore bright armor, Sun Ce’s customary attire, and his mount was Sun Ce’s rare, jet-black steed. The three exchanged glances, then melted into the still-dim mountainside.

Sun Ce, bold and swift, soon outpaced his retinue, leaving his guards far behind. This was hardly unusual—his attendants simply followed at a distance, knowing full well that Sun Ce enjoyed the hunt, and their sole duty was to let him indulge to his heart’s content.

If there was anything different about Sun Ce today, it was his attire: a great cloak draped over his shoulders, a conical hat on his head, and his face masked with a black scarf. Yet such garb was not out of place in the lingering chill of early spring. Galloping against the biting wind was like facing a blade. Though Sun Ce was brave, he was also a strikingly handsome man, not some rough and calloused laborer.

After half an hour, Sun Ce had reached a clearing halfway up the mountain. Drawing his bow, he aimed at a stag drinking by a pond.

Just as his arrow was about to fly, another shaft whistled through the air—a deadly shot. The stag, sensing peril, jerked its head up, but too late; the arrow had already pierced its heart.

Sun Ce turned to see three hunters emerge from the shadows. All were burly men, each carrying a strong bow and a short blade at the waist.

Such an encounter was a first for Sun Ce, but as there were indeed many hunters living at the base of the mountain, he took little notice.

“Your arrows were swifter. The prey is yours,” he said, tossing these words over his shoulder as he turned his horse to ride further up the mountain.

“Everyone knows you, Sun Bofu, lord of Jiangdong, but do you truly realize how many enemies you have, even here on your own turf?”

As Sun Ce prepared to leave, the three men fanned out, encircling him. Clearly, this was a position they had chosen long in advance, waiting for precisely this moment.

At the same time, all three had nocked their arrows—one only had to look at the fallen stag to know how deadly their aim was.

“Heh! Our lord was right—there really are some bandits lurking here.”

But to their surprise, the man they had been so certain was Sun Ce calmly removed his hat and cloak, revealing the garb of an ordinary guard beneath.

“You’re not Sun Ce?”

“Of course not. How could my lord be fooled by such coarse knaves as yourselves? Tell us now who sent you and you may yet keep your corpses whole. Otherwise, you’ll be left to rot beside that stag.”

With that, he whistled sharply. A sudden flurry of birds burst from the trees all around—the clear signal that others had been lying in wait nearby all along.