But this part of his story will not be told here. Tung Cho at the capital, when he heard of the death of the turbulent prefect, said, “An evil that pressed hard upon my heart has been removed.” He asked what sons he had left and when they told him the eldest was but seventeen he dismissed all anxiety from his thoughts. From this time forward his arrogance and domineering spirit waxed worse and worse. He styled himself Shang Fu or “Imperial Rector,” a name full of honour, and in all his behaviour aped imperial state. He created his younger brother a marquis and made him Generalissimo of the Left. A nephew was placed in command of the Palace guards and everyone of his clan, young or old, was ennobled. At some distance from the capital he laid out a city, an exact replica of Chʻangan, with its palaces, granaries, treasuries and magazines, and employed a quarter of a million people to build it. Here he accumulated supplies sufficient for twenty years. He selected eight hundred of the most beautiful maidens and sent them to dwell in his new city. The stores of wealth in every form were incalculable. All his family and retainers found quarters in this new city named Meiwu. Tung Cho visited his city at intervals of a month or so and every visit was like an imperial progress, with booths by the roadside to refresh the officials and courtiers who attended him to the Hêngmên and saw him start. On one occasion he spread a great feast for all those assembled to witness his departure and while it was in progress there arrived a large number of malcontents from the north who had voluntarily surrendered. The tyrant had them brought before him as he sat at table and meted out to them wanton cruelties. The hands of this one were lopped off, the feet of that; one had his eyes gouged out; another lost his tongue. Some were boiled to death. Shrieks of agony arose to the very heavens and the courtiers were faint with terror, but the author of the misery ate and drank, chatted and smiled as if nothing was going on. Another day Tung Cho was presiding at a great gathering of officers who were seated in two long rows. After the wine had gone up and down several times Lü Pu entered and whispered a few words in his master’s ear. Cho smiled and said, “He was always so. Take Chang Wên outside.” The others all turned pale. In a little time a serving man brought the head of their fellow guest on a red dish and showed it to their host. They nearly died with fright. “Do not fear,” said Cho smiling. “He was in league with Yüan Shu to assassinate me. A letter he wrote fell by mistake into the hands of my son so I have had him put to death. You gentlemen, who have no reason, need have no fear.”