“Heaven and earth are unkind, treating all things as straw dogs. When the arrow falls, who is the hero? Who is the variable? Beneath the White Gate Tower, wind and snow remain as before, but fate has veered from its course—from this moment, history will record another possibility.”
The snow continued to fall. Cao Cao rose from the Grand Preceptor’s chair, slowly descending the steps toward Lü Bu, who knelt below the dais.
A decision was already made in his heart. He didn’t need to do this—one word from him and Lü Bu’s life would be over. Yet he felt compelled to see Lü Bu off himself, to speak with him face to face.
He knew that this defeated man was his equal—a true hero. Only real heroes can fully comprehend the value of life.
To live is to have infinite possibilities.
The greatest difference between them—the fatal difference—was that Cao Cao was more adaptable, willing to compromise with this shallow world.
A god of war, Lü Bu had the courage to debase his pride and reputation in exchange for one last chance at life, ready to endure all future humiliation and mockery. For this perseverance, Cao Cao could only sigh in admiration.
Lü Bu was a peerless figure of his age. If he were content to serve as a general, Cao Cao would have spared and even valued him greatly.
But Lü Bu, like Cao Cao, harbored ambitions to rule the world. As long as he drew breath, this will would never change.
Therefore—Lü Bu must die.
Cao Cao approached. Their eyes met; both understood. The kneeling prisoner, who had just been kowtowing in desperation, now looked calm, clear, detached. Cao Cao’s respect for him only deepened—yet so did his sense of urgency that Lü Bu could not be allowed to live. It was a strange feeling.
Cao Cao halted three steps away.
Just as he was about to speak—a sudden change erupted.
Whoosh—
An arrow sliced through the snowy air. A scream rang out atop the White Gate Tower.
Before Cao Cao could react, another arrow flew. With a sharp pain in his left side, he realized he’d been shot. A third arrow missed Cao Cao but struck Lü Bu in the arm, blood spurting instantly.
Two soldiers immediately seized Lü Bu, preventing him from escaping in the chaos.
He remained motionless, letting them drag him away, head bowed lower—but in secret, his eyes frantically searched for that one figure.
Xiao Meng! He’s still here! Why isn’t he escaping?! Where is he... where is he!!!
Escape didn’t occur to Lü Bu at that moment. He had only one thought—to see him.
If there was still a chance in this life to glimpse him, even just a fleeting glance, Lü Bu could not let it pass.
The scene erupted in chaos. Shouts rang out. The Cao army’s archers unleashed a hail of arrows toward the direction of the attack. Xiao Meng, swift as a phantom, darted toward the main building, loosing arrows as he ran. Each shot sowed confusion, even if it claimed few lives.
Dressed in white, moving with blinding speed, Xiao Meng evaded the arrows fired from below, while his own arrows rained down from unpredictable directions.
“Damn! The arrows are poisoned! Get the physicians!” someone in Liu Bei’s entourage shouted.
Atop the tower, the one struck was Liu Bei.
An arrow through the heart. He collapsed with a wail.
Those around him could only watch, helpless.
Within moments, Liu Bei no longer felt pain. Instead, a more terrifying numbness and chill spread through his limbs. The tumult of voices faded and warped. He sensed his life draining away, unstoppable as a breached dam.
He panicked—wanted to cry, but found he had no strength even for tears.
Heaven...what happened? Why is this happening? ...Someone tried to assassinate me...?! I’m just a minor figure—why would anyone want me dead? If anyone should be killed, it should be that traitor Cao Cao!
Now, the only thing he could control were his thoughts.
...Second Brother! Third Brother! Save me! Is there anyone...anyone who can save me? ...Heaven! Lü Bu was supposed to die today!
Past memories surged through his mind: Once, he was a straw-sandal peddler, who by chance befriended Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, became sworn brothers, and hoped to achieve great things. Yet years of wandering had brought him nothing—no success, not even a place to call home.
At last, he’d managed to cling to Cao Cao, thinking he’d found a foothold, and would see his nemesis Lü Bu executed. Today was supposed to be the most satisfying day of his life...
Heaven...I don’t want to die!
Summoning his last strength, Liu Bei stared fixedly at the sky.
...I am the descendant of King Jing of Zhongshan! I still have ambitions—I must restore the Han, save the people! ...There is so much left undone! I can’t die so soon! ...Unwilling...I am unwilling!
Only drifting snowflakes answered him.
Heaven is impartial, saving neither Yao nor destroying Jie.
Heroes who defy the world and sages who save it—before the will of Heaven, they are as ants.
If Heaven wants you gone, no matter your ambition or talent, the smallest variable can topple you.
So it was for Xiang Yu, so it is for Lü Bu—let alone Liu Bei.
He never imagined that the one to change his fate would be an unknown assassin—and that fate itself was decided in the assassin’s single thought.
At last, Liu Bei’s eyes lost focus, his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.
On this snowy night, his dreams and his life vanished—together with Lü Bu’s ambitions.
End of Chapter 2
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