Cao Cao and Yuan Shao finally met on the plains of Guandu.

Yuan Shao had one hundred thousand soldiers. Cao Cao had twenty thousand. Yuan Shao supply lines stretched unbroken to the northern frontier. Cao Cao men were running low on grain.

"We cannot win by force," Cao Cao admitted in his tent, studying maps by candlelight.

His strategist Guo Jia smiled faintly. "Yuan Shao is proud and indecisive. He will not act until victory seems certain. That hesitation is our weapon."

Cao Cao riding five thousand cavalry through the night, disguised in enemy banners, reached Yuan Shao supply depot at Wuchao at dawn. The grain storehouses blazed.

The fire could be seen from miles away. Without food, a hundred thousand men became a starving mob. By sunset, Yuan Shao was fleeing north with eight hundred riders.

His empire-in-the-making had crumbled in a single day.

"One battle does not win a kingdom," Cao Cao said quietly, standing amidst the smoking ruins. "But it is a beginning."