Chapter Twelve: The Rise of Dong Zhuo's Fortune

Dong Zhuo was born into a powerful local clan in the Western Liang region. Strictly speaking, he was one of the representatives of the great landlord class in Shanxi. Unlike the aristocratic families of Shandong, Dong Zhuo’s upbringing was shaped not by poetry, books, or rituals, but by the Qiang people and martial prowess.

Among the Qiang, who lacked a tradition of formal culture, the belief that might makes right was deeply ingrained. When conflicts arose, nothing resolved disputes better than a fight; if that failed, blades would be drawn.

Thus, Dong Zhuo—strong, muscular, skilled in martial arts, an expert horseman capable of wielding weapons ambidextrously, always accompanied by a band of loyal retainers, adept at both one-on-one combat and taking on groups—quickly earned a formidable reputation among the Qiang.

In the Han dynasty, such renown was invaluable. Thanks to his considerable family wealth, Dong Zhuo generously hosted Qiang chieftains and warlords, slaughtering cattle and sheep to entertain them. Through these exchanges, he forged mutually beneficial trade ties with the Qiang leaders.

Smaller Qiang bands dared not challenge Dong Zhuo—after all, he was a local strongman with numerous retainers and personal strength unmatched; it was better to share the spoils than risk death. Larger Qiang groups hesitated as well, for the grasslands offered abundant cattle and sheep, and why waste effort killing someone who ensured access to these resources?

By fortune and fate, during the late Eastern Han under Emperor Ling, the central government sought both to suppress regional warlords and to employ them in quelling peasant uprisings and minority rebellions. Dong Zhuo was no exception; he became an object of official recruitment and pacification.

He initially held the position of military officer in the provincial army, tasked with patrolling the borderlands and maintaining local order. For Dong Zhuo, this was akin to donning the imperial mantle, marking the beginning of his warlord career.

Soon, as the Eastern Han court urgently addressed the Qiang problem in the west, it elevated prominent Western Liang strongmen. This presented Dong Zhuo with a crucial opportunity. Not only did he maintain his standing among local elites, but through wealth and military might, he absorbed and allied with other forces, steadily consolidating and expanding his power.

Dong Zhuo was then appointed to command the imperial guards across several counties, overseeing the Yulin army. He was promoted to military commander, joining Lieutenant General Zhang Huan in campaigns against rebellious Qiang in Bingzhou.

It was during this period that Dong Zhuo met a man who would change his life: Li Ru.

Dong Zhuo first realized that guerrilla tactics of the Qiang were not infallible; he learned that a hundred well-trained armored soldiers could easily defeat two hundred untrained ones; he no longer fretted over mundane paperwork and logistics, but came to understand that beyond brute force, there were far more terrifying and effective means to vanquish enemies.

Dong Zhuo believed Li Ru altered his perception of scholars. To win him over, Dong Zhuo tied Li Ru to his war chariot and even married his daughter to him.

With Li Ru’s assistance in subsequent campaigns against the rebellious Qiang, Dong Zhuo displayed his fierce valor, carving out a formidable reputation in Western Liang through relentless combat.

His outstanding achievements earned him promotions: from commandant to county magistrate, northern commander, and frontier captain, eventually reaching the offices of governor of Bingzhou and prefect of Hedong.

Later, when Bian Zhang and Han Sui rebelled alongside Beigong Boyu and Li Wenhou in Beidi, their uprising rapidly spread. They killed the prefect of Jincheng, Chen Yi, and in the second year of Zhongping, under the pretext of purging eunuchs, led a massive army to invade the Three Regions and threaten Yuanling.

At this critical moment, Emperor Ling hastily mobilized nearly all capable generals and elite troops to resist Bian Zhang and Han Sui’s forces. Dong Zhuo was appointed Lieutenant General, bestowed the title “General Who Breaks the Enemy,” and together with Minister of Works Zhang Wen, Chief of the Imperial Guards Yuan Pang, and General Who Sweeps Away Bandits Zhou Shen, commanded over one hundred thousand infantry and cavalry stationed at Meiyang to protect Yuanling.

Thus, Dong Zhuo transformed from a border captain into a commanding general wielding vast armed forces. Owing to his distinguished service against Bian Zhang and Han Sui, he was ennobled as Marquis of Taixiang with a fief of one thousand households.

In relentless battles against the Qiang and Hu tribes under Han Sui and Ma Teng, Dong Zhuo repeatedly distinguished himself, earning further imperial favor and promotion to Former General. Yet the court grew wary of his enormous power and sought to transfer him to a central administrative role as Minister of the Household under the Three Excellencies. Forewarned by Li Ru of the court’s true intent, Dong Zhuo respectfully declined, stating: “My soldiers and I have long been devoted to your service; I beseech to lead forces in the northern provinces to defend the frontier.”

By then, Dong Zhuo’s warlord faction had taken shape, composed mainly of Western Liang troops, mixed with Hu and Qiang elements. Especially in cavalry, they integrated nomadic warfare techniques with Han dynasty’s advanced weaponry, amassing many battle-hardened veterans. This became a formidable force.

Dong Zhuo’s power swelled rapidly.

Emperor Ling finally sensed Dong Zhuo’s growing insubordination. During his illness, he summoned Dong Zhuo and appointed him Governor of Bingzhou, hoping to transfer Dong Zhuo’s troops under the command of Huangfu Song to fracture his influence.

But Dong Zhuo refused to relinquish military authority. Instead, he led his forces to station in Hedong, becoming a powerful regional warlord answering to no one.

Before Emperor Ling could further act against Dong Zhuo, the emperor died. The following palace intrigues and succession struggles stalled the matter.

Until an imperial edict arrived, summoning Dong Zhuo to the capital. Grand General He Jin had a clear plan.

For years, the imperial guards responsible for protecting the palace, the Eight Colonels of the Western Garden, had been controlled by Jian Shuo. Though Jian Shuo was executed, many soldiers loyal to the eunuchs remained. To secure his faction’s influence, He Jin sought a loyal army free from eunuch infiltration.

He sent messages to all generals commanding troops outside the capital, requesting support for the campaign to eliminate the eunuchs. Unexpectedly, Liu clan members holding real power were either too distant or indifferent. Only Dong Zhuo, stationed close to Luoyang, responded promptly, submitting a memorial advocating the purge of those “wicked ministers surrounding the emperor,” which warmed He Jin’s heart.

Another warlord also received the secret order but was slower to respond, leaving Dong Zhuo the first to seize the opportunity, which proved decisive.

Feeling encouraged by He Jin’s backing, Dong Zhuo’s memorial was widely publicized, and He Jin’s stance against the eunuchs hardened. Frightened, the eunuchs ordered Dong Zhuo, in the emperor’s name, not to enter the capital but to camp nearby.

Dong Zhuo encamped at Mianchi, vigilantly monitoring developments in Luoyang.

A mere hundred miles could not restrain Dong Zhuo’s ambitions. Employing all his military expertise, he dispatched scouts in all directions, receiving hourly reports on Luoyang’s situation.

Thus, when flames engulfed the capital and most were still confused, Dong Zhuo was the first to learn of the upheaval. He quickly broke camp and marched overnight toward Luoyang.

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To be honest, Fei Qian never expected that his grid search along the riverbank would actually lead to a discovery.

Yet looking at the two trembling figures before him, who would have thought these two of the Han dynasty’s finest could be in such a pitiful state?

One tall, one short, both adolescent, covered in mud and water, their crowns lost at some unknown moment, hair disheveled, faces filled with panic—if not for the fine quality of their garments and the red shoes they wore, Fei Qian might have mistaken them for mere refugees.

In Han society, clothing was no trivial matter. Who wore what was strictly regulated; a misstep could be deemed disrespectful at best, punishable by loss of office or even life at worst.

During Emperor Wu’s reign, the ill-fated Marquis of Wu’an, Tian Tian, was stripped of his title and posts for "entering the palace improperly dressed." Though other factors contributed, the official reason recorded in history was his inappropriate attire.

Thus, dress codes were paramount in Han times.

By torchlight, Fei Qian carefully surveyed the youths. Their ages matched his expectations, and despite being soiled, their garments bore the deep blue robes and red shoes reserved for nobility.

Though inwardly convinced, recognition was not yet possible.

The foolish act would be to throw oneself at their feet in reverence.

The best course now was silent acknowledgment—pretending ignorance.

After all, the royal family needed to maintain its dignity.

Fei Qian stepped forward and said, “Have you two become separated from your kin? I am a newly appointed court official. Not far from here lies the estate of former Minister Cui Weikao. It is late, and the night is cold. Why not rest there until dawn, then decide your next move?”

The elder boy, still frightened, said nothing. The younger, calmer, answered on his behalf, “That would be much appreciated.”

Fei Qian beckoned a few estate attendants to lead the way and sent ahead supplies of ginger soup and hot water. After a few steps, he turned back, removed his outer robe, and draped it over the elder boy.

“Wet clothes invite cold winds. Take care not to catch a chill. I hope the young lord will not mind.”

The elder boy shivered but murmured thanks, wrapping the robe tighter and finding some warmth.

Fei Qian knelt before the younger boy and said kindly, “There is still some distance ahead, and the night road is treacherous. If you do not mind, may I carry you?”

After a brief hesitation, the younger boy nodded and placed his cold hands on Fei Qian’s shoulders.

Fei Qian leaned forward slightly, lifting the child onto his back, then gestured for the elder boy to follow.

Above, the Milky Way stretched brilliantly across the night sky.

Fei Qian carried the child, with the elder boy tightly wrapped in the cloak behind him. Estate attendants held torches flickering in the night breeze, casting long, wavering shadows of the three figures upon the earth as they slowly advanced.