The moment the words “adopted father” left his mouth, the expressions of the four emperors froze.
They had imagined this kid being mischievous, rebellious, and defiant. They had imagined him treating them like monsters and avoiding them at all costs. What they hadn’t imagined was this scene.
Adopted father? Four adopted fathers at once? Are you Lu Bu reincarnated?
Xun Ye didn’t see anything wrong with taking an adopted father. If Lu Bu could do it, why couldn’t he?
Life was too short to be overly serious. Dignity couldn’t be eaten, and latching onto a powerful patron wasn’t wrong. The only difference between him and Lu Bu was that his adopted fathers were actually reliable.
The emperors: …
They wanted to crack open this silly kid’s head to see what was inside.
A cold wind swept across the field ridges, making the silence around them even more pronounced.
The four emperors looked at each other, all reading the unmistakable words “your son” in each other’s eyes.
To avoid hurting one another, they all tacitly chose not to speak.
Emperor Li Er was sent to watch the kid while the remaining three continued discussing how to get this silly kid to start building his empire from scratch.
From scratch—no exaggeration whatsoever.
They had no physical forms and couldn’t be by the kid’s side at all times to protect him. In the future, everything would have to be done by the kid himself.
The aftershocks of the Yellow Turban Rebellion were still lingering. In such chaotic times, even self-preservation was difficult. Without soldiers, horses, or territory, he would be nothing but fish on the chopping block, at the mercy of others.
Recruiting soldiers and buying horses required family wealth and reputation. The silly kid had neither, making it truly difficult to know where to begin.
Not to mention that they couldn’t borrow the prestige of the Xun Shi of Yingchuan for now—even if they could, the Xun clan wasn’t yet the politically influential powerhouse it would become during the Wei and Jin dynasties. How much weight could a junior member carry?
Gold at the corners, silver at the edges, grass in the belly—that was the situation they were in. If they wanted to steadily accumulate strength, they couldn’t stay in Zhongyuan.
Liu Che rubbed his chin. “I feel like the system picked the wrong team this time. It shouldn’t have chosen Emperor Taizu of Song, but Emperor Taizu of Ming.”
Zhu Yuanzhang, Emperor Taizu of Ming, had risen from a beggar with nothing to become the ruler of a nation, and later drove out the barbarians and restored Chinese rule. Ignoring the insignificant details, the path the silly kid needed to take was almost identical to his.
Zhao Kuangyin endured it, then endured it some more, but finally couldn’t hold back and pointed at himself. “So… should I leave?”
Beside them, Xun Ye, who had overheard their conversation, said with a serious face, counting off the differences between himself and Zhu Yuanzhang: “First, my father is still alive; second, my father is still alive; and third, my father is still alive.”
Emperor Li Er, who had been sent to watch the kid: …
Alright, alright, we get it—your father is still alive. No need to emphasize it so much.
Xun Ye snorted. He was a small man who didn’t hold grudges against big people—he wouldn’t quibble with those who couldn’t speak properly. The emperors had just asked their questions, and now it was his turn. “Your Majesties, where do you come from?”
Li Shimin thought for a moment, then replied, “It’s too complicated to explain. Skip.”
“Can’t skip, can’t skip.” Xun Ye widened his eyes. “You can make it brief, but you can’t not say it at all.”
Even if the Golden Finger had fallen from the sky, at least give him an instruction manual. He didn’t ask for much—he just wanted to understand what exactly was going on.
His own situation was more or less clear now. But what about the emperors? Where did they come from? Why were they teaching him? What did they usually do? Could they project their spirits? Could they summon wind and rain or turn beans into soldiers? Could they conjure a million-strong army out of thin air?
Putting everything else aside, he was quite looking forward to the First Emperor summoning the Terracotta Army.
If that didn’t work, having them charge ahead with weapons in hand would be fine too. He remembered that both Emperor Li Er and Emperor Zhao Da were rare fierce generals. Would he no longer have to worry about encountering bandits when going out in the future?
Li Shimin: ??
It wasn’t even dark yet—why was this kid having daydreams?
Emperor Li Er smiled and used the same trick right back at him. “First, we have no physical forms; second, we have no physical forms; and third, we have no physical forms.”
Important things must be said three times. The four of them were only responsible for teaching students. Nothing else could be expected of them.
Xun Ye blinked his clear, big eyes. “That’s exactly why I need Your Majesty to explain what can and cannot be expected. It would be such a waste if a hard-won adopted son, because he had too high expectations of his adopted fathers, kept dancing on the edge of suicide and then actually died by accident.”
Li Shimin felt his palm itch. If he could make physical contact, he would definitely give this brat a flick on the forehead.
Asking about their origins after meeting them was a reasonable need. Why did it sound so infuriating coming out of this kid’s mouth? Was this karma for him using the excuse that it was too complicated to explain and skipping the question earlier?
Emperor Li Er sat down beside him and gave the curious silly kid a brief explanation of the origins of the Qiangu Yidi Fudao Ban.
They were souls brought together by obsession. The instructors in the Emperor Tutoring Class weren’t just them, and their gathering place wasn’t limited to the tutoring class either. In countless parallel worlds, there would always be deep, unseverable obsessions. They had come to this world seeking the possibility of change.
In this timeline, first came the chaos of the late Han dynasty with its scorching suffering, then the Uprising of the Five Barbarians with its slaughter of the innocent. In just over two hundred years, hundreds of millions of souls had been lost across the land of Zhongyuan. The collective spiritual power of those hundreds of millions of departed souls was immense—that was why they had come.
This wasn’t their first time taking on students, nor would it be their last, so Liu Che had come to accept that the Han dynasty’s throne didn’t belong to the Liu family. Sometimes he even stirred up trouble for the Lius just for the fun of watching the chaos unfold.
Xun Ye looked thoughtful. “So you’re saying that the people who perished in times of chaos all believed that if they had a few emperors of your caliber—great rulers who could turn the tide—they would have lived in peace without the turmoil of war?”
Li Shimin nodded. “That’s about right.”
A thriving military could also be called warmongering. He admitted that the people under their rule hadn’t escaped war entirely, but the benefits of a strong court were obvious—as long as later rulers gave the people respite, they could live and work in peace.
There were so many internal troubles and external threats that the people couldn’t see. How could the court avoid war forever?
Xun Ye rested his chin on his hand, listening without saying whether he agreed or not.
The people’s wishes were simple—just enough to eat and wear, and to live out their days in safety. Even if they had to eat chaff and swallow wild vegetables, wear tattered clothes and broken shoes, as long as they could survive, they wouldn’t rebel.
The limitations of the era were plain to see. Even the people of the Qing dynasty couldn’t say that things would be better without an emperor, let alone those of the Han dynasty. For people living their entire lives under the shadow of war, praying to heaven for a good emperor who could bring them peaceful days was perfectly natural.
Not to mention the native-born commoners—even he himself, after all these years since his transmigration, had subconsciously come to hope for a diligent, people-loving emperor to govern the realm, rather than someone shouting about killing the emperor, disbanding the court, and overturning heaven and earth to make a new world.
Li Shimin finished summarizing the situation, then added, “The three of them are discussing what to do next. But no matter what comes, you can’t neglect your studies.”
When chaos was about to engulf the realm, even the Great Clans couldn’t escape annihilation. The lives of ordinary people were even less secure—a small band of bandits could slaughter an entire village.
Xun Yu had already come to persuade Xun Yue to move, which meant Yingchuan would soon be in turmoil. The boy’s stable life of rising with the sun and resting with its setting was about to come to an end, but that didn’t stop the four of them from launching their lessons.
It was still too early to talk about conquering the realm, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t start preparing now.
When founding a dynasty in times of chaos, the most important thing was the ability to fight.
To be a good leader who commanded respect, one couldn’t have weaknesses in either civil or military matters—otherwise, why would those beneath you follow you with unwavering loyalty?
Due to a system malfunction, they had met many years later than they should have. Whether to make up for the lessons missed earlier would be decided after they assessed his level. But starting today, as long as nothing unexpected happened, he would study at least one shichen every day.
Xun Ye: !!
Just a moment ago, the conversation had been deep and somber, full of devastation and suffering—and now suddenly it had switched to education?
“Your Majesty, are there no rest days?”
One shichen a day seemed easy enough to accept—just setting aside two hours before bed—but he still had the assignments his father gave him. He couldn’t go without rest days.
Although he and his father lived in seclusion farming in a remote mountain valley, he hadn’t escaped a single assignment in reading, writing, or other studies since he’d recovered his lost wits.
There was no helping it. His beautiful father could accept a simple-minded son born with deficiencies, but he could not accept a normal son being illiterate.
To shake off the label of “illiterate,” he not only had to recognize characters but also understand allusions when others spoke, and grasp the various literary techniques—borrowed references, emotional expression through scenery, using the past to critique the present—when reading essays.
If you could recognize every character in an article but couldn’t understand its true meaning, sorry, you were still illiterate.
He was no longer illiterate, so he was fully entitled to rest days.
“The premise of having lessons is that nothing unexpected happens. Chaos is coming—do you think there will be many days without surprises?” Emperor Li Er sighed. “Besides, our time is limited. Today is special because it’s our first meeting, so we all came out together. In the future, unless something major comes up, whoever is teaching will come find you. Some days someone might show up every day; other times you might not see anyone for days on end.”
Don’t ask why—the answer was poor signal and bad reception.
From now on, wandering and having no fixed home would be the norm. Saying they’d set aside one shichen a day sounded nice, but when you were marching and fighting, who could stick to that? If five out of ten days had a normal routine, that was already rare. What rest days were there to demand?
Xun Ye sucked in a sharp breath. “How could it be like this?”
No wonder he’d been given four adoptive fathers all at once—it turned out his Golden Finger was unstable. Even with its support, his chances of dying before his enterprise was even half-built were still considerable.
So the question was: he had nothing right now. What was he supposed to use to conquer the realm?
And then there was the other problem—his beautiful father was upright and proper, spending his days writing books and upholding the Confucian way of ruler and minister. If he dared to talk about contending for the Zhongyuan and claiming kingship, he could kiss his family goodbye.
At best, his father would reason with him patiently. At worst, he’d sever the father-son relationship entirely.
Say Emperor Wu of Han appeared in a dream and told him to save the Han dynasty? Even if he dared to say it, who would believe him?
Starting from zero to conquer the realm was already hard enough. He couldn’t abandon his real father for his adoptive ones.
Just as they were speaking, the father who had finished his business appeared at the door.
Xun Ye brushed the snow off his clothes, leaving the task of resolving family matters to his newly acquired adoptive fathers, then happily ran back to his real father. “Father!”
Li Shimin watched the little simpleton trot happily into his father’s arms, feeling oddly like he was watching a puppy going after a meaty bone. “Tsk, adoptive fathers just can’t compare to a real father.”
The First Emperor’s expression remained unchanged, though he drifted a bit further away, pretending not to know anyone.
Liu Che stretched lazily as he stood up, and upon hearing Li Shimin’s words, couldn’t resist a jab. “Already calling yourself an adoptive father, are we?”
“He dares to call me that, so why shouldn’t I answer?” Emperor Li Er said with complete confidence, and being quick on the uptake, spread the sentiment around. “Relax, we’re all adoptive fathers here. Look at it this way—those who achieve great things aren’t bound by convention. Our son’s thick skin shows he has the bearing of one destined for greatness.”
The other three beside him: …
The emperors drifted into the courtyard while chatting, boldly taking in their surroundings since mortals couldn’t see them.
Though the farmhouse was small, it had everything needed. With no neighboring households, the fenced yard was quite large, and the father and son had even carved out several vegetable plots within it.
The vegetable plots in the yard were just as neat and orderly as the farmland outside—clearly the handiwork of that little simpleton.
Liu Che leaned against the wicker fence, and after catching sight of the little simpleton’s handsome father, praised with great seriousness, “Truly fine features indeed.”
The other three exchanged subtle looks. “…Are you unwell, my lord?”
Unaware that several special members had joined his household, Xun Yue raised a hand to beckon his son over and said gently, “Your uncle is about to leave. Come say goodbye to him.”
“We’ll meet again in three days—what need is there for farewells?” A young man as warm and refined as jade strolled out from the courtyard, his smile like a spring breeze. “It’s been years since we last met, brother. You look just as distinguished as ever, but A’niu has changed quite a bit.”
The two brothers had already reached an understanding, and Xun Yu’s mood was far lighter than when he’d arrived, relaxed enough to tease a little.
Over the years, he had first served as Zhubu in the commandery, then been recommended as Xiaolian and appointed to Luoyang as the Palace Attendant. The last time he’d seen his brother, the boy had been a lifeless puppet. When he’d received his brother’s letter saying the child had regained his spirit and recovered, he’d been happy for days.
His brother didn’t care much for socializing, preferring to stay home reading and studying alone. Moving here to live in seclusion was one thing, but he’d even refused the maidservants and servants the family sent.
Thankfully, there was a child by his side now—otherwise, leaving him alone all the time would be truly worrying.
Xun Ye was a seasoned connoisseur of beauty. Faced with a handsome man, his temper was excellent, and upon hearing his handsome uncle’s words, he puffed out his chest proudly. “Father taught me well.”
“Our A’niu is wonderful too.” Xun Yue couldn’t help but smile, praising his bright-eyed son first before adding, “It’s getting late, Wenruo. Travel safely.”
He didn’t have many rooms here, and had no need for guest accommodations on a daily basis—even if he wanted to offer lodging, there were no spare rooms.
Xun Yu clasped his hands in a formal bow without much further pleasantry. Once the driver had harnessed the carriage, he boarded and departed. “I’ll take my leave now, brother. Take care of yourself.”
Yingchuan was a Four-Front War Zone—once chaos erupted, everyone would want a piece of it. Staying here was too dangerous. Yet many locals were deeply attached to their homeland and unwilling to move. He had abandoned his official post and returned home, rushing about tirelessly, but it was like trying to put out a blazing fire with a cup of water.
Take it one step at a time, he supposed.
The country roads were mostly rough and bumpy, but they were no match for the inexhaustible energy of the Xun family’s A’niu. To escape his studies, he’d find work even when there was none. The country path outside their door had been maintained by him so well that for the past three years, it was smoother than even the main highway.
Xun Yue watched the carriage disappear into the distance, a trace of worry surfacing on his face. “The world is about to fall into chaos.”
The noble clans, eunuchs, and consort relatives at court had always been locked in endless strife, and now an unruly Western Liang warlord had joined the fray.
Sigh.
Ignoring the Emperor F4 whose presence was impossible to overlook in the yard, Xun Ye buzzed around like a little bee, urging his father to go back inside and rest.
Staying out in the dead of winter invited illness, and in these times, even a minor ailment could become incurable. Health was the foundation of everything—better to avoid getting sick altogether.
The busy little bee went back inside, deftly pouring tea and fetching water. Only after everything was arranged did he sit down by the window. “Father, are we going to move?”
Xun Yue let out a silent sigh. “We’ll hide in the mountains near Luoyang for a few days first. Where we go after that will depend on the situation.”
After entering the capital, Dong Zhuo had indulged his troops in plundering the common folk, and recently had committed the ultimate act of treason by deposing and installing an emperor. The momentum of the various provinces and commanderies rallying against Dong Zhuo was growing ever stronger.
For now, the regional governors were only recruiting soldiers and buying horses. But once open warfare broke out, given Dong Zhuo’s character, it wasn’t unlikely that he would resort to Fortified Walls and Cleared Fields, slaughtering the counties around Luoyang.
Yingchuan’s terrain was flat and wide open—nowhere to hide if soldiers or bandits came. No matter where they ended up going, they couldn’t stay in Yingchuan.
Xun Ye flopped onto the table, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to leave.”
It had taken so much work to till the land so perfectly. He hadn’t gotten his fill of farming yet.
Xun Yue was reluctant too, but there was no helping it. They couldn’t cling to the hope that the flames of war wouldn’t reach here.
The eunuchs at court had been slaughtered to the last, and few consort relatives remained. On the surface, it seemed the noble clans had achieved sole dominance—but the great families of the realm were not just one.
The Yuan Clan wanted to monopolize power, which was why Dong Zhuo could act with impunity like a fox borrowing the tiger’s might. As the political landscape shifted, people across the realm could no longer tell who was the fox and who was the tiger.
Among the great clans, there were unspoken rules in their struggles for power, but Dong Zhuo, coming from a military background, cared nothing for such conventions. He even opened Emperor Wen’s mausoleum to plunder its treasures when Empress Dowager He was being buried. Wenling was Emperor Ling’s tomb—how did this leave the imperial house with any dignity?
“Seeking skin from a tiger, how could there be any benefit?”
Xun Ye nodded solemnly. “Father is right.”
If he remembered correctly, the Yuan family was later wiped out in one fell swoop by Dong Zhuo, with only the brothers Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu escaping with their lives.
The golden crow sank westward, dusk sweeping in as weary birds returned to their nests in the distance.
Father and son sat talking face to face until the sky was fully dark before retiring to their rooms.
Liu Che yawned. “Kid, you and your father are together every day—how do you still have so much to talk about?”
From Dong Zhuo’s tyranny to household trivialities, from the Son of Heaven in the capital to the chickens and ducks in the backyard, from how to protect oneself to what to bring when moving—the speaker wasn’t tired, but he was exhausted from listening.
Xun Ye had made the bed and tidied up, ready to extinguish the lamp, when he heard Liu Che’s complaint. He blinked, then asked in a way that seemed tactful but was actually not tactful at all, “Your Majesty, have you never had heart-to-heart talks with your son while sharing a bed? Although it’s just my father and me in our family, I must always attend to him with filial devotion so that he can enjoy the happiness of family life.”