The Chinese Achilles (2of4): Like Son, Like Father

The horrible new father of Lü Bu, GOAT of Chinese warriors

In part one we discussed Lü Bu’s origins as a famed archer and horseman from the Steppes who betrayed his master, Ding Yuan, to court favor with the new puppet master to the throne, Dong Zhuo. Not long after being adopted as Dong Zhuo’s foster son, he was promoted to “General of the Interior” and given the title, “Marquis of Duting”. Not bad for a boy from the sticks, right? Well, as we’ll see, the decision to betray one father and gain another would be the first in a number of bad choices that prove why being the best is never enough. Find Part 1 here.

The Romance of the Three Kingdoms begins with these famous lines: “The empire, long divided, must unite; long united, must divide. Thus it has ever been.” While the meme about “crisis” being the same in Chinese as “opportunity” is as much a fabrication as Diao Chan, the woman over whom Lü Bu supposedly fell out with foster dad, there’s definitely something to be said about opportunities that come with upheaval. Whether it’s a global pandemic, the advent of new technology, or the utter collapse of the state, shakeups favor certain types of people. Times of war favor warriors. So you’d think the Three Kingdoms period would end with the greatest warrior of them all ascending the throne, Conan the Barbarian-style right? Think again.

The Hubris of Being the Best

The problem with being a great warrior is that it’s an all-consuming practice. Unless you’re a Klitschko brother, you probably won’t be the heavyweight champ and a Ph. D. Faced with this paradox, you can either take the balanced path of studying the classics and becoming a Scholar Warrior, or you double down on getting lethal.

Now, the swordsman Musashi may have written that “If you know the way broadly you will see it in everything”, but that didn’t mean you will be the best at all of it, too. As with so many coders-turned-CEOs, ballers-turned-tycoons, and entertainers-turned-politicians, it’s hard to know what you don’t know when all you know is one thing. This was Lü Bu’s main problem, and it turned every opportunity he seized into an eventual crisis.

Dong Zhuo: World’s Worst Dad-Boss

One thing Lü Bu definitely wasn’t the best at was being his own career advisor. On the surface, Dong Zhuo looked like the perfect father/boss. Perks of being the Chancellor’s son and bodyguard aside, they had lots in common: Dong Zhuo loved to drink, and as a northerner drinking is part of Lü Bu’s culture. Both liked nice things, fast horses, and beautiful women. Both valued martial prowess. And they both saw no reason to stand on formality—Lü Bu, being an unschooled barbarian from the Chinese hinterlands, must have found Dong Zhuo’s boorish military manners refreshing. Dong made no attempt to hide his true feelings, calling high officials “bugs”, “insects” and “vermin” to their faces and letting everyone know who was really running the empire now.

But in every opportunity also lies potential crises, just as every virtue has its dark side. A rude bully unperturbed by the people he offends makes many enemies, then becomes paranoid because he’s given just about everyone cause for offense. While having Lü Bu by his side may have kept enemies from attacking him personally, outside the capital armies amassed to oppose his rule.

The coalition that came was so numerous and powerful that not even Lü Bu could fight them off. Within a year, father and son were forced to flee—er, move—the capital with the puppet emperor, but not before having the old city burned to the ground. They were saved only by the fact that their defeat left the coalition too suspicious of each other to pursue the now-weakened Dong Zhuo.

His Dinner Parties Were Literally Torture

Unfortunately for the coalition, Dong’s generals came back with a vengeance. With most of the members unwilling to risk their forces, Dong scored a victory and then proceeded to lose what little humanity he had left.

Celebrating his brilliant victory at the new capital, Dong Zhuo threw many lavish banquets. Just as guests were getting into their second or third cups of wine, the evening’s entertainment began. Lights were dimmed, and enemy captives bound in clothes dripping lard and reeking of fat were brought forth. Once tied to stakes, a fire was set at their feet. As the stench of burning fat and flesh choked the room, guests could see their uncovered faces. It was the chancellor’s intention that everyone listens to the screams of his enemies while watching the sweet play of pain across their faces until the very end. Not all were burned, but those that were spared were no less fortunate. Their part in the show was to have eyeballs and tongues removed or limbs severed. As guests wretched or held back tears, the old monster simply sat and sipped his wine, a savage smile across his grotesque countenance.

When Drinking with Your Boss Stops Being Fun

As Dong Zhuo’s drinking got worse, so did his temper. Once drunk, he’d fly into rages at the slightest provocation and throw axes at the warrior who wasn’t invincible enough to hold his old capital: his son. Maybe he knew Lü Bu the kung fu master would be fast enough to dodge them, or maybe he was just too drunk to care, but at least one was thrown with such force that it lodged in a pillar. Still, Dong Zhuo probably considered Lü Bu lucky. By this point, the chancellor had already had thousands of public servants and commoners kidnapped and executed for far less. Either way, Dong Zhuo always seemed to forget about his rages and carry on as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately for Dong Zhuo, his son was more like him than he knew. Lü Bu only ever forgot the slights he committed, never the ones committed against him.

Poor Character Forces Poor Decisions

With so much tension between this father-son duo made in hell, things inevitably went there. Remember how Lü Bu and his dad were fond of the same things? Well, love of the wrong things can lead to covetousness, especially when the right-hand man has a head that’s as big as the head honcho. No matter how many honors and accolades the greatest warrior got, it still paled in comparison with the riches of the fat monster who sent true men of ability out to do his bidding from atop his de facto throne. When you overvalue the skill of fighting, you undervalue the credit you’re given for being good at it.

Then Lü Bu was put in charge of guarding Dong Zhuo’s harem, which was filled with whichever palace maidens, royal serving girls, or comely commoners that caught his fancy. And it was only a matter of time before the Chinese Achilles would fall out with his ruler over a slave girl. Only this time their affair was committed in secret. And Lü Bu realized that if Dong Zhuo the deviser of unthinkable tortures would throw axes at him over some misplaced words, what would he do if he ever found out?

When Violence is All You Know…

One final reason for why the greatest warrior never got to be China’s greatest leader: he only had one tool. That old analogy about how every problem looks like a nail to the handyman who’s only got a hammer? This was true for Lü Bu. There aren’t really any redeeming qualities to Lü Bu the employee, so is it any wonder that he’d complain loudly to others about how Dong Zhuo tried to kill him? One of the ministers he went to happened to be plotting the chancellor’s overthrow, and it didn’t take much convincing to enlist this self-serving Brutus. They just had to remind Lü Bu of how little Dong Zhuo cared about Lü Bu and he became the conspiracy’s leader.

When Dong Zhuo’s cavalry captain stabbed him in the back one morning, Dong cried out to Lü Bu to save him. To which Lü Bu replied by delivering the death blow. Dong’s entire clan, including his 90-year-old mother, was put to death. What little justice or irony may be had for all of Dong Zhuo’s victims in the story of a lit wick being plugged into his fat navel. Dong Zhuo’s corpse became a candle that burned for several days with “the brilliance of the sun”.

Unfortunately for all involved, the flames of war would not end with the tyrant-chancellor. But rather than being hailed a hero, Lü Bu became “the bastard of three fathers”. Next week, we’ll look at the final chapters of Lü Bu’s life as he soon realizes that killing a tyrant doesn’t count for much when the killer is himself a backstabbing brute who can’t be trusted.

Read Part 3 here.