Rather Than Zhang Ran, Zhang Bao’s Eldest Daughter

As I stepped onto the training grounds, Guan Ping seemed to recognize me, greeting me first.
“Didn’t expect to see you here again. You were just a newborn babe the first time.”
“You’ve become quite the seasoned warrior yourself, Brother Guan Ping.”
“Hahaha, so you do remember from back then.”
“Yes, I do recall.”
In truth, influenced by my past life memories, I even retained vague recollections from my mother’s womb. Assuming I was joking, Guan Ping laughed it off with a “Hahaha” before continuing:
“But pleasantries must wait. What weapon will you use?”

“Hmm…”
I pondered briefly. To be honest, I was still more adept with the sword – the longsword specifically. However, Zhang Fei had taught me spear techniques, advising that if I intended to fight mounted in the field, I needed to master spears over swords.
The decision did not take long. This occasion aimed to assess my potential, not necessarily demonstrate overwhelming strength. Since I had declared my intent to succeed Zhang Fei’s martial legacy, it seemed fitting to wield the spear he had trained me in.

“I shall use the spear.”
Guan Ping appraised my build before handing me a practice staff of suitable length, similar to the ones I typically used. He did possess a trained warrior’s discerning eye.
“Then make your approach.”
Guan Ping took a serious stance, clearly receiving prior instructions. If I was learning under Zhang Fei, then Guan Ping must have studied martial arts under his father Guan Yu’s tutelage.

Lauded as Zhang Fei’s peerless equal during their era and deified as an immortal warrior-god after death, Guan Yu’s bloodline successor Guan Ping was no opponent to underestimate.
He was likely weaker than Guan Yu himself – had Guan Ping’s potential matched his father’s, he would have featured more prominently than just three scant mentions in historical records.
My own innate potential exceeded Guan Ping’s, bolstered by Zhang Fei’s divine-bestowed abilities. Yet unlike the already combat-seasoned adult Guan Ping, I remained a fledgling novice.

Rather than fixating on victory, I resolved to simply give my utmost effort.
Firmly planting my feet, I charged forth in earnest.

§

Back when I lived in the modern era, before being reborn as Zhang Ran…
A broadcaster had humorously compared Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei’s martial arts styles: Liu Bei was calisthenics, Guan Yu was low-rep high-weight training, while Zhang Fei favored high-rep lightweight routines – so while Guan Yu struck with devastating single blows, Zhang Fei prioritized speed and volume. People had found the analogy quite amusing.

However, as I faced Guan Ping trained under Guan Yu himself, I found it no laughing matter.
Whooosh!
Despite being a mere wooden weapon, the resounding boom of Guan Ping’s strike assaulted my ears with a thunderous weight more befitting a real steel blade.
If rendered into martial arts terminology, Guan Yu’s style embodied ‘Strength’ (強) and ‘Heaviness’ (重) – in essence, ‘Dominance’ (覇).
In stark contrast, Zhang Fei’s art personified ‘Swiftness’ (快) and ‘Continuity’ (連) – ‘Illusion’ (幻).

Though I had only learned Zhang Fei’s spear techniques for a few short days, the fundamental compatibility with the Lichtenauer longsword fencing I had studied allowed me to apply it effectively despite my lack of physical strength.

Tatatatang!
A flurry of successive strikes rained down, which Guan Ping deflected through economical, refined movements honed by abundant real combat experience, devoid of wasted movement.
Yet his pragmatic fighting approach played into my favor.
Had Guan Ping’s style involved relentless, aggressing pressure akin to my own instead of his measured, forceful counterpunches, my unrefined technique would have swiftly crumbled.

My prodigious strength belied my 9-year-old frame, a product of Zhang Fei’s divine blessing. Though still outmatched by Guan Ping’s hard-earned might and physical maturity as a blood successor to the peerless warriors, I possessed enough power to consistently divert his attacks.

Seeing me refuse to falter, Guan Ping grew increasingly impatient, his movements becoming more expansive and leaving openings as exhaustion set in for us both.

‘As expected, this child’s body still has limits.’
For all my innate gifts, I was still just starting to grow and develop. No matter my divine abilities, I could not transcend human limitations – a child’s stamina, while impressive, inevitably fell short of a well-trained adult’s.
Unless my growth truly took off with substantial increases in strength and endurance, I could only resort to desperation gambles for now.

Twatwang! Kagaak!
The three fundamental spear techniques: Block (ran), Deflect (na), and Thrust (zha).
Deflecting Guan Ping’s strike with the blocking ‘ran’ technique, I opted to evade instead of meeting force head-on. Sensing this opening, Guan Ping doubled down, applying torque to overpower my parry.
However, this played into my hands – Guan Ping’s committed offense left an inevitable gap in his defenses. Directly into that opening, I launched the thrusting ‘zha’ technique in a snakelike strike.

Twaak!
The culmination of our abandoned defenses and committed attacks – a resounding impact echoed, not from Guan Ping’s staff, but my body.

“Kuhh!”
The length differential was too great. My staff fell short of even grazing Guan Ping, while his struck my head squarely. A stinging pain lanced through me. Fortunately, Guan Ping had restrained his force enough to avoid cracking my skull or drawing blood, but a bump was inevitable.

“It’s over.”
“Yes…”
“Are you badly hurt? Ah, before I knew it, I was going all out. Perhaps I overdid it in the end.”
“Not at all, I’m grateful for your restraint.”
If Zhang Fei shared his constitution, a mere bump would be nothing. I was no longer a child, and could withstand this much.

As I refrained from touching the throbbing bump, projecting nonchalance, reactions came from the observers.
“Remarkable!”
The first to speak, Liu Bei expressed admiration as he addressed Zhang Fei:
“It’s like watching your younger self. You were already trouncing grown men around Ran’s age, were you not? Or am I mistaken, Yide?”

“Please, Elder Brother, do not make me sound like some unruly ruffian constantly picking fights.”
“Hahaha! Did it come across that way? You simply disciplined those bullying the commoners, displaying astonishing valor for your youth. Ran is her father’s daughter through and through. Is that not so, Wenchang?”

“Indeed. There were moments when Ping fought with sincere effort. Yet to see her refuse to yield, despite her tender age – the martial blood truly runs thick in this young niece.”
“Yes, yes. I had intended to assess her talents, but was treated to an impressive exchange instead. What did you make of it, Strategist?”

Concealing his mouth with his ornate fan, Zhuge Liang bowed slightly as he replied to Liu Bei:
“With even your esteemed niece so prodigiously gifted, who could claim the realm’s talents lie outside your sphere, my lord? General Zhang’s assertions ring true – any dissenting voice would be silenced before it could be raised.”

“My thoughts exactly. You two, come here.”
As Guan Ping and I approached, Liu Bei patted our shoulders affectionately.
“You have grown much, Ping. A display worthy of Wenchang’s eldest son.”
“I remain lacking compared to my father’s peerless name. I shall strive further, that I may not shame his legacy.”
“Such humility becomes you.”

Turning from Guan Ping, Liu Bei’s gaze met mine, prompting me to quickly lower my head.
“You have suffered for this. I have witnessed your sincerity. With such prodigious talents, how could I obstruct your path merely for being female? Will you aid this insufficient uncle by following Yide from now on?”

“Of course! As a woman, I am no less aware of loyalty and filial piety. Despite my feminine form, if you place your trust in me, I shall repay that debt by assisting you and Father in realizing your grand ambition, however modestly.”

My quoting the classic Zuo Zhuan aphorism seemed to please Guan Yu, his eyes crinkling with satisfaction. Liu Bei’s own expression softened further – I had evidently made a proper showing.

After offering us some further words of encouragement, Liu Bei turned to Zhang Fei:
“Yide, proceed as you deem fit. Should any voice disagreement over this matter, I shall personally mete out punishment. Strategist, spread word of this decree.”
“As you command, my lord.”

The tender-eyed uncle now donned the iron mask of an imperious sovereign:
“Yide, I have decided to lend you and one thousand soldiers in support of Zhongxuan.”
“I shall make preparations to depart.”
An abrupt command, yet Zhang Fei did not question it – a man who would dive into fire itself on Liu Bei’s words.
Dispatching Zhang Fei to Zhou Yu implied the clash over Jingzhou was nearing its conclusion, the three-way struggle between Cao Cao, Liu Bei, and the Sun family over the Yangzi basin.

“I too shall accompany you.”
I was well-versed in the tripartite conflict that unfolded in the Southlands following Chibi – a veritable all-star matchup between the forces of Wei, Shu, and Wu.
The peerless Zhou Yu and Gan Ning representing Wu’s prime, Cao Cao’s vaunted talents like Xiahou Dun and Yu Jin, the veteran marshals like Huang Zhong serving Liu Bei alongside the sworn brothers – it was an epic clash of legends.

“Hmm, I have no intention of stopping you. But this campaign shall be exceedingly perilous.”
“With Father supporting Zhou Zhongxuan, Cao Ren defending the Southlands cannot possibly hold out and will be forced to withdraw. If Martial Uncle and Uncle strike Cao Cao’s forces simultaneously, they will be placed in a dire predicament. What peril could there be?”

In truth, this Southern Campaign did culminate in the Sun-Liu alliance’s victory.
One of the rare defeats suffered by Cao Cao’s vaunted general Cao Ren, and a battle where Zhou Yu, the supreme commander of the allied forces, displayed his full talents to the realm.
However, the injuries Zhou Yu sustained in this campaign ultimately proved fatal, rendering it a long-term loss for Wu despite their resounding triumph.

“You have indeed inherited not just your father’s martial arts, but his strategic mind as well – contemplating such foresight at your young age. Very well, I entrust this matter to Yide and shall no longer involve myself.”
It seemed Zhang Fei would not dissuade me either, having vowed to treat me no differently than regular soldiers. In any case, I offered my gratitude to Liu Bei.

As we departed from the audience with Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhuge Liang, Zhang Fei asked:
“So you truly intend to join the campaign?”
“Yes, Father.”
There were precedents like the 13-year-old Boy General Choe Dong-rin participating in the Donghak Peasant Revolution. Not to mention closer examples – my fourth cousin Ha Hu-baek took up arms at 13 before perishing against the enemy.
Though only 9 years old, imbued with Zhang Fei’s peerless prowess, I was confident I could contribute at least a single soldier’s worth.

“I should have taught you cavalry skills beforehand.”
An implication that remaining by his side would be safer than the rear lines. Peerless commanders like Zhang Fei fought from the vanguard, cutting through enemies while mounted. To follow him, I needed equestrian training.
Though not as strategically gifted as his mythologized characterization, Zhang Fei was still an ambidextrous genius of martial and military arts. With their current limited forces, it was more pragmatic for him to lead the vanguard while the peerless Zhou Yu handled strategy and logistics.

“Have no such concerns. I am your daughter, after all.”
Rather than elaborate further, Zhang Fei simply left me with one line:
“Then I shall place my trust in you.”