The God of Wealth

“Everyone, fall back!” Luanyi’s command rang out sharply, the battle flag fluttering fiercely as the clanging of the war drums echoed. Two hundred cavalrymen moved in perfect unison, like waves crashing against jagged rocks. They abruptly slowed before Zhu Ying and his Yellow Turban soldiers, skimming past their ranks on either side with a fierce roar, circling once, then swiftly returning behind Luanyi.

“Zhu Ying, release Young Master Zhen. I’ll spare your life. Otherwise, don’t blame me, Luanyi, for being ruthless!” Luanyi warned sternly.

“Hahaha…” Zhu Ying laughed heartily. “Let him go? In broad daylight? Dream on! If you dare take a step forward, I’ll have this pretty boy’s blood spilled right here and now.”

“You insolent whelp!” Luanyi’s face was expressionless, but inside he was burning with anxiety. A life was at stake—especially the life of a blood relative of his major client. As a respected landowner of Jinan, how could he stand idly by and watch him die before his eyes? “Very well, Zhu Ying. If you release Young Master Zhen, I will spare your life and let you leave.”

Zhu Ying snorted coldly. “I don’t trust a word you say.”

“Luanyi never breaks his word,” Zhao Yun snarled, “You, Zhu Ying, are a traitor! Our leader is a man of honor. He would never go back on his word!”

“Honor? Hahaha…” Zhu Ying laughed wildly again. “I don’t believe in such nonsense! And I certainly don’t believe you, Luanyi, will let me walk away so easily.”

Luanyi was puzzled by Zhu Ying’s intentions and asked, “So what do you want? You’re not seriously going to hold Young Master Zhen here until he dies, are you?”

“Of course not!” Zhu Ying grinned wickedly, glancing at the trembling Young Master Zhen in his arms, tears streaming down the youth’s face. “I’m not unwilling to let this pretty boy go… but…”

“But what?” Luanyi pressed.

“You have to come here yourself to take him. If you come, I’ll let him go immediately!”

Dian Wei cursed loudly, “Traitor! How dare you think this up!”

Young Master Zhen screamed in a high-pitched voice, “Leader, don’t listen to him! This dog is utterly untrustworthy. He’s trying to trick you! Even if I… this humble master dies, I would never want you to suffer…”

“Enough nonsense!” Zhu Ying struck the young man’s head fiercely with the hilt of his sword. A pitiful scream followed as blood spilled down his pale forehead. The boy howled in pain, tears flowing faster, biting his lip tightly to endure.

“Luanyi, are you coming or not? If you don’t come, I’ll behead him on the spot!” Zhu Ying roared.

Luanyi exhaled slowly, his voice low and steady. “Alright, alright... I’ll come. But you must release him once I arrive.”

Zhu Ying nodded. “No weapons allowed!”

With a clang, Zhao Yun saw Luanyi cast aside his Lotus Hammer and prepare to dismount. Alarmed, he cried out, “Leader, you can’t! Don’t put yourself in danger!”

Dian Wei also urged, “Fourth brother, don’t act recklessly out of loyalty!”

“Big brother, don’t worry! I know what I’m doing,” Luanyi winked at Zhao Yun. As he handed his sword to Zhao Yun, he subtly touched the small of his back beneath the crimson cloak. “I’ll act according to the situation.”

Zhao Yun understood immediately. Having sparred frequently with Luanyi over recent days, he knew well his extraordinary combat skills—especially his throwing techniques, which were nothing short of miraculous. Luanyi’s ability to move swiftly and unscathed among hundreds was unmatched. When their cavalry caught up, they could ensure his safety. Zhao Yun nodded firmly. “Leader, please be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Luanyi said. He spread his empty hands and strode towards Zhu Ying. The night breeze caught his huge cloak, making it billow like the radiant light of dawn.

To Young Master Zhen, Luanyi’s not particularly imposing figure suddenly seemed towering. This was the prodigy praised by the Holy Mother Church—the leader of ten thousand faithful, who wrote “Strange Tales” at seven and completed “Original Wealth” at thirteen, hailed by General Xu as a godsend. “Leader, we have never met. Why risk your life to save me?” he blurted out, fearing he might never ask again.

Why? Why indeed. The Zhen family was the Church’s largest client in Jizhou and Hebei, their chief benefactor. Luanyi couldn’t afford to let the young master die in Jinan and risk souring relations with the Zhen clan. Such a loss would severely impact the Church’s operations in Jizhou. Of course, politics was a performance, and as leader, Luanyi could not admit this openly. He declared grandly, “Not for anything else, but for the cross on your chest, for you are a follower of the Holy Mother Church. All church members are brothers and sisters. When brothers suffer, how can one stand by without acting? As leader, I must lead by example—fearless, willing to face any hardship, to save my brother from danger, even if it means walking into fire and sword. No regrets.”

“Leader…” Young Master Zhen wept, deeply moved.

Dian Wei, Zhao Yun, and the other knights roused by passion shouted, “Leader’s benevolence!”

Zhu Ying froze at the scene, especially surprised that Luanyi had so readily accepted his terms, disarmed and approaching empty-handed. A gleam flashed in his eyes as he shouted from fifty paces away, “Stop right there! Don’t move!”

Luanyi still held his hands raised. “What now? What’s the matter?”

“Tell your lackeys to fall back. A whole mile back.”

Zhu Ying hesitated, then decided a mile was too close. “No, two miles back! Don’t try any tricks. Light all the torches bright so I can see clearly.”

“Scoundrel!” Worry flickered briefly in Luanyi’s deep eyes, then he passed Zhu Ying’s words intact to Zhao Yun.

Dian Wei wanted to chase after Luanyi to advise caution, but Zhao Yun stopped him. “Great Knight, don’t worry. Since the leader has given orders, he must have a plan. We just need to follow instructions.”

“But what if we retreat? What about Fourth Brother? Zhu Ying’s men are many, and although Fourth Brother is brave, he’s unarmed and alone. If we withdraw now, how can we support him?”

Zhao Yun’s expression grew serious. “Don’t worry, Brother Dian. Yun has a way.”

“What’s the plan?”

Zhao Yun whispered into Dian Wei’s ear. Dian Wei’s eyes warmed, blooming with joy. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Fourth Brother will be safe!” He turned his horse sharply. “Let’s leave quickly!”

“Understood…” Zhao Yun raised his hand in salute and ordered loudly, “Knights, fall back two miles.”

The thunder of hooves filled the air, dust swirling as the line of torches slowly moved westward, growing distant.

Only then did Zhu Ying relax. “Very well, Luanyi, come here.”

Step by step, Luanyi walked lightly and leisurely, but to Zhu Ying each step felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, each one pressing down on his chest like the intricate pattern of Luanyi’s deerskin boots branding into his heart. Sweat beaded on Luanyi’s brow—some from the oppressive heat, some from pre-battle tension, but mostly from the thrill of bringing vengeance to fruition.

His entire family had been slaughtered by this very youth. Now, the enemy was unarmed and closing in. Twenty steps, nineteen… finally, here he came.

“Hahaha… Luanyi, you’ve met your match today.” Zhu Ying threw aside his sword, shoved Young Master Zhen aside, and thrust his blade fiercely at Luanyi. “Give me your life.”

Luanyi faced the thrust calmly and without fear. The extraordinary reflexes honed through months of sparring with mighty generals like Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun now came into play.

He swiftly withdrew his hands, pulling from beneath his cloak at his back a combat iron disk. Holding it firmly before his chest, he blocked the incoming sword blade dead center. The circular hole in the disk caught the sword’s tip, trapping it securely.

Luanyi followed up with a powerful kick to Zhu Ying’s abdomen.

A horrible scream burst forth as Zhu Ying flew off the ground, twisted over a hundred and twenty degrees, and crashed to the earth three steps away. Blood covered his face and mouth—whether from the kick or the fall was unclear.

“Why are you all standing there? Kill him! And those few from the Zhen family, kill them all! Leave no one alive!”

Facing a hundred Yellow Turban soldiers charging with spears, Luanyi grabbed another iron disk from behind his waist and, with one in each hand, hurled them. The disks spun through the air like shooting stars, tracing brilliant arcs—one striking down two enemies in rapid succession.

Luanyi advanced towards a spear thrust. Just as the spear was about to strike, he changed direction, circling to the weapon’s side. Grasping the spear shaft with both hands, he roared, “Come at me!”

The spear wielder felt the force of a plow pulled by a raging bull. The spear was wrenched from his hands, tearing the skin off his palms until raw and bloody.

With lightning speed, Luanyi seized the spear shaft and drove it into the soldier’s body. Then, swinging the shaft left and right, he used the embedded spear as a hammer, devastating the attackers.

Several Yellow Turbans fell in a heap.

Luanyi glanced toward Young Master Zhen, ten paces away, where four surviving guards and steward Zhen Hao fought desperately to protect him. But the enemy was too many, and one guard was gravely wounded, unlikely to survive.

Urgently, Luanyi grabbed a Yellow Turban soldier charging at him and flung him like a sack ten paces away, scattering several who were about to strike at Young Master Zhen—saving the youth’s life.

The thrown soldier’s fate was pitiful: broken legs from the fall and pierced by a comrade’s spear, dead beyond doubt.