Here is a tale of stone-cold Warring States badassery I first encountered in ITŌ Gingetsu 伊藤銀月's Nihon keigo shi 日本警語史 ("History of Japanese wit [sort of]" — there's probably a whole post lurking in the translation of 警語, to be honest). I pieced the whole story together from what appears to be the original and some commentary scattered here and there around the web.

So we're in China, specifically in Qin, at the end of the Warring States Period (late 3rd C BCE). The king of Qin, soon to become first emperor of a unified China, noticed that despite his prolonged conquerings, there's a fifty-li holdout fief called Anling 安陵 which remains independent, like "a firefly before the sun," as Itō puts it. (They may or may not have had a druid brewing them magic potions with which to go on wacky adventures.)

So the king of Qin sends a messenger to the lord of Anling and says "I would exchange five hundred li of land for Anling. Will you accept my offer?"

"Great king, you are generous," replies the lord of Anling. "To trade large for small would be most magnanimous. However, I received this land from my king, and I must defend it to the last. I will not make the exchange."

The king of Qin isn't happy with this, so the lord of Anling sends a diplomat called Tang Qie 唐且, or maybe Tang Ju 唐雎, to Qin. "Diplome the place up a little, see if you can bring back some booze," he no doubt said.

"I offer to exchange five hundred li of land for Anling," says the king of Qin to Tang Qie, "But the lord of Anling refuses me. Why? Qin has crushed Han and destroyed Wei. Your lord remains on his fifty li of land only because I consider him a worthy man, and have yet to turn my attention to him. And yet, when I offer to embiggen his holdings tenwise, he defies me. Is it to insult me that he does this?"

"No," Tang Qie replies, "It is not. My lord received the land from his king, charged with its defense. He would not make the exchange even for a thousand li; why then should he for five hundred?"

The king of Qin flies into a rage. "Have you heard of the Wrath of Heaven's Son?" he asks.

"I have not," replies Tang Qie.

"A million corpses, a thousand li of flowing blood: such is the Wrath of Heaven's Son!"

"Great king," Tang Qie replies, "Have you heard of the Wrath of the Common Man?"

"The Wrath of the Common Man?" The king of Qin sneers. "He throws off his cap, he goes barefoot, he beats his head against the ground."

"Such is the wrath of the man in the street," Tang Qie concedes, "But not the wrath of the warrior, which rather is Zhuan Zhu's assassination of King Liao, heralded by comets covering the moon; Nie Zheng's assassination of Han Kui, declared by a white rainbow piercing the sun; Yao Li's assassination of Qingji, as a blue eagle savaged the roof of his quarters. These three were all unexalted warriors, nursing their wrath within themselves until an eerie sign descended from heaven — and, once I am added to their number, there will soon be four such men.

"Two corpses, five paces of flowing blood, all under heaven in mourning clothes: such is the Wrath of the Common Man, which falls upon you today!" And Tang Qie's blade appears in his hand as he leaps to his feet.

The king of Qin goes pale, and he kneels in apology. "Be seated, sir, I implore you," he says. "There is no need to go to such extremes; I understand now. The reason that Anling retains its fifty li even as Han and Wei crumble is because it is served by men like you."

(Note: "Wrath of the Common Man" is literally "Wrath of the [People who Wear] Garments of Cloth", 布衣之怒. This requires a bit of cultural interpretation to dig, but the opposition to "Son of Heaven" is, I think, quite clear. I toyed with other terms, like "Wrath of the Unexalted," "Wrath of the Unfancy," but ultimately went for the Copland reference because I'm populist like that.)