Chapter 119: The Yushui Alliance

The ship sailed north along the Han River, entering the Yu River, and by dusk, it was nearing Xiangyang.

The distance from Xinye to Xiangyang is less than one hundred kilometers. Traveling against the current was slow, relying on human-powered oars at an average speed of about five to six kilometers per hour—a far cry from the twenty-six kilometers per hour speed of the famous journey from Jiangling. Therefore, if Shen Chen had chosen to travel by boat, it would have taken seventeen or eighteen hours. Essentially, one would depart at noon and arrive the next morning; it was not as fast as riding a horse.

When he finally arrived in Xinye, it was just past the morning meal time on the second day. He sent men to the county seat to relay the news, and Deng Mao soon arrived with the county officials to help the soldiers unload the armor gifted by Liu Biao and arrange for carts to transport it to Huangmen Pavilion.

During the unloading, Shen Chen stood with his great-uncle Deng Mao, watching the soldiers move the armor back and forth. Deng Mao asked tentatively, "Chen, are you truly determined to lead troops north to attack Cao Cao?"

"Yes." Shen Chen nodded. "Cao Cao deceives the Emperor above and slaughters the common people below. The blood feud of the hundred clansmen in Zengyang Village must never be forgotten."

Deng Mao pondered for a moment before saying bitterly, "Logically speaking, many of our Deng clan have also died at the hands of the rebel Cao, so I have no right to dissuade you. But Chen, you are now the Qilin of our Deng and Shen clans; the battlefield is always treacherous. Let others go. If it must be done, let your uncle go. I would rather lose a son than lose you."

Shen Chen replied solemnly, "Great-uncle, I understand your concern, but I have reasons that compel me to go. It is not just about hatred, but also about loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness. If everyone remains silent out of fear of the rebel Cao’s power, then when he eventually usurps the throne, there will be no one left to resist him. I must set this example."

"This..." Deng Mao gave a bitter smile. "Very well, I know I cannot dissuade you, but I hope you will return safely."

Shen Chen nodded. "I understand, rest assured, Great-uncle."

He understood Deng Mao's perspective. Although the blood debt of his enemies was important, the survival of the clan was paramount. The fact that the Deng and Shen clans could survive in Xinye, and that he himself had become the Magistrate of Xinye, managing the livelihood of the people, was all due to the benefits Shen Chen had brought them through his activities in Jingzhou. If one day Shen Chen were to die on the battlefield, even with Deng Hong marrying into the Cai family to support the household, it would be like a ship losing its helmsman or a carriage losing its driver; the clan would lose its direction. For a kinship group, this was a grave danger. Thus, Deng Mao would rather see his own son, Deng Zhao, die in battle than see Shen Chen meet with misfortune.

However, there are some things that one must do, even when knowing the path is perilous. It was much like the Imperial Uncle in the north, who had been beaten black and blue countless times yet never wavered in his original intent. One cannot be cowed by a strong enemy, nor should one abandon the justice one holds dear simply because of the risk of death. For a man like Cao Cao, one might admire his great ambition and his achievements in literature and war, but one can never condone his cruelty and wickedness. This is a basic moral principle, and a line of conscience that Shen Chen could not cross. In the matter of resisting Cao, Shen Chen would remain steadfast!

Soon, the armor was moved, and the procession slowly made its way to Huangmen Pavilion, arriving in less than half an hour. After five years of development, Huangmen Pavilion had become comparable to a city. Following the chaos of the Nanyang Yellow Turban Rebellion, the population had plummeted and wasteland increased. After Shen Chen arrived, he utilized composting techniques to reclaim vast stretches of barren land, causing crop yields to soar. Simultaneously, the burgeoning handicraft and manufacturing industries required a massive labor force, attracting many local villagers to work and farm. The population had exceeded thirty thousand, and it was growing increasingly prosperous.

Entering from the outskirts through the markets and finally reaching the gates of the manor, Deng Zhao and Shen Zhen were already waiting for him.

"Father, Uncle!" Shen Chen dismounted and bowed to them.

Shen Zhen said, "My son has grown even stronger. How is your training?"

"I have not failed your expectations, Father," Shen Chen replied.

"That is good." Shen Zhen nodded. He actually wished to instruct his son, but he found that his son was far too brilliant—his scholarship rivaled that of great Confucian scholars, and he practiced his martial arts diligently every day. He felt he had nothing left to teach him, which made Shen Zhen feel somewhat ashamed as a father. Yet, he was also incredibly proud that such an exceptional person was his own son. What more could he ask for?

Entering the manor with his father and uncle, the armor from Liu Biao was brought in to equip their private troops. Although Huangmen Pavilion could produce iron armor, who would complain about having too much? The scene inside the manor was different; it was spacious, serving as the main gathering place for the elders and a training ground for the soldiers, dominated by a huge drill field. The soldiers were busy practicing; their only task was to refine their skills and ensure absolute discipline. They lived by the rule that they must sweat more in training to shed less blood in battle.

Compared to the fifteen hundred men of two years ago, their forces had nearly doubled. With three thousand soldiers, plus Gan Ning’s troops, they could assemble nearly ten thousand men for the northern campaign—sufficient strength.

Seeing the soldiers training, Shen Chen was very satisfied. He walked to the main hall, which was furnished with master chairs and tea tables, resembling the reception halls of wealthy families in later eras. Although he had to kneel on mats when outside, he refused to suffer in his own home; if one sat kneeling all day, not only would it cause back and leg pain, but it could also lead to physical deformities.

"Father," Shen Chen sat in a chair and asked, "is there any word from Zhang Xiu?"