Pale moonlight, sparse stars, the quiet night deep and heavy.
The emperors, with their identical expressionless faces, stirred up a chill wind that blew out the candle flames, then vanished without a sound.
Xun Ye shook his head with satisfaction. Not bad, not bad—they were getting the hang of appearing and disappearing like ghosts.
After his moment of reflection, he fumbled his way into bed in the dark, closed his eyes, and slept soundly through the night.
As dawn broke and the eastern sky began to pale, the young man rose early to wash and dress. Once ready, he peered this way and that, trying to spot any trace of his four adoptive fathers somewhere in the nooks and crannies of the house.
—Adoptive Father? Adoptive Fathers? Are you all still here?
The cheap son skulked around his own home like a thief, rummaging for quite a while without finding any place where a soul could hide.
Not in the chests, not in the cabinets, not under the bed—could it be that his words had collectively broken their spirits and they refused to come out?
The emperors were magnanimous and tolerant, surely not?
Or perhaps none of it had happened yesterday—maybe he’d been reading San Guo in his dreams and reciting poetry, and gotten things muddled. In reality, Xun Yu had never visited, and Qin Huang, Han Wu, Tang Zong, and Song Zu had never appeared. This was still just a farming background story that hadn’t yet entered the Keju or Chaotang plotlines.
Xun Ye fell into thought, mulling it over without reaching any conclusion, so he went to the next room to see what his father was up to.
His handsome father was packing up scrolls and documents; the bookshelves were already more than half empty. So yesterday hadn’t been a dream after all.
How could this tutoring program be all-powerful one moment and utterly useless the next? Had the signal gone dead again?
Emperor Li Er had said the system operated across many parallel worlds—a cross-universe organization couldn’t keep having malfunctions and unstable signals. Hadn’t anyone ever filed a complaint against them before?
But then again, considering this was a one-sided choice on their part, it made a certain kind of sense. Fortune never falls from the sky; the lucky ones chosen to receive a new life naturally had to pay some price.
Being able to live another lifetime was already a gain. If the adoptive fathers couldn’t be relied upon, so be it—he’d never expected a Golden Finger old-timer to appear and instantly transform him into a swaggering Han-dynasty dragon soaring across the land.
He wasn’t an obedient goody-two-shoes who’d do whatever he was told. Just because the system wanted him to conquer the realm, did he have to? Which of the eighteen lords allied against Dong Zhuo could he actually defeat?
Self-awareness was a fine thing, and he hoped his adoptive fathers wouldn’t hold too high expectations of him either. He simply couldn’t compare to them when they were young.
Xun Ye returned to his room to pack his luggage, building up his mental fortitude as he went. By the time his bags were packed, his mental preparation was more or less complete. When he stepped out the door again, he was still just the farm boy Xun Agu.
They wouldn’t leave for another three days. The things they needed in the meantime couldn’t be packed away, and he still had to go to the nearby villages to sell off the chickens and ducks in the backyard and the larger items they couldn’t take with them.
As for the vegetable garden in the courtyard and the farmland outside—that was up to fate.
Living in seclusion meant staying away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, and the nearest village was half a day’s walk from their home.
Farming could make them self-sufficient, but they couldn’t be completely cut off from the world. Whenever they needed something they didn’t have, they’d go to the village to buy it. If the village didn’t have it, they’d wait until a villager happened to go to the county town for supplies and bring it back for them.
When the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken—once the flames of war reached this place, no one would escape.
His father had said that Uncle Xun Yu had already sent word to the major clans of Yingyin, and was also trying to make the village elders aware of the chaos in the capital. Whether to stay or leave was each village’s own decision, but even those who stayed couldn’t do so without preparation.
They didn’t expect the villages to form a militia capable of resisting soldiers and bandits in a short time, but at least they could buy time to flee if something happened.
And so, three days later, the people Xun Wenruo had sent not only picked up his cousin and nephew, but also the massive procession that had moved along with them.
The villagers came with their entire families—the old leaning on the young, children in tow—with carts piled high with every possession they could carry. They’d have uprooted their houses and taken those too if they could.
Xun Yu: …
He had traveled tirelessly, pleading with people for days, and only managed to persuade a thousand or so households to leave their homes with him. His elder cousin, who usually paid no attention to worldly affairs, had unexpectedly brought such a pleasant surprise.
He knew exactly how many villages and households there were in Yingyin. If he wasn’t mistaken, these were the people from all the villages near his cousin’s secluded home.
Xun Ye raised his chin with a modest smile. “Father said that in difficult times, one dare not look only to one’s own salvation.”
Xun Yue’s eyes curved into crescents. “If not for Agu’s silver tongue, Father wouldn’t have been able to persuade the village elders either.”
The two of them looked at each other through filters ten meters thick. If everyone hadn’t arrived and they hadn’t needed to set off immediately, they’d have gone on praising each other to the heavens.
The two groups merged, and command was handed to Xun Yu, but Xun Yue didn’t rest either.
The villagers trusted the Xun Shi name enough to leave their homes and follow them, and other major clans of Yingyin had come along as well. There were matters between clans to coordinate, and the mood of the villagers to attend to—every household was busy with their feet barely touching the ground.
Xun Ye followed his father to show his face before a few of his uncles, but before he could say more than a few words, he turned around and both his father and uncles had vanished.
The members of the major clans walked at the front, followed by the villagers who had chosen to leave with them. Stretching out before the eye, there were easily over ten thousand people.
Zhang Jiao’s cry of “The Blue Sky is dead, the Yellow Sky shall rise” had only passed a few years ago, and rebel forces were springing up all over the place. If you didn’t make proper arrangements in advance, traveling on the main roads could scare a local official to death.
Xun Ye withdrew his gaze and found the family’s main base to help push the cart.
Their destination this time was Mixian County in Henan Yin, and although it was less than two hundred li from Yingyin, the terrain was no longer completely flat.
Mixian was over two hundred li from Luoyang, so chaos in the capital wouldn’t reach there in a short time, and bandit forces wouldn’t choose a place too close to Luoyang either. Add to that the mountains within its borders like Jiluoshan and Daguishan, and it could be said to be the optimal choice for temporary refuge.
There were quite a few elderly, women, and children in the group, so it would probably take four or five days to get there.
The young man was full of energy, and pushing the cart didn’t stop him from picking people to chat with.
No one could resist the handsome, enthusiastic, sweet-tongued Xun Agu! No one!
After several days of rote memorization, he had already gotten all the family members straight in his head—he just couldn’t match them to real faces yet.
His great-grandfather Xun Shu was a famous scholar of his generation, known for his lofty moral character. What exactly did that mean? He dared to point his finger at treacherous, powerful ministers and curse them to their faces.
Then he was pushed out of court by those powerful ministers, and before long he resigned from office altogether.
His grandfather Xun Jian and his seven brothers were called the “Xunshi Balong” by people of the time.
But although his grandfather had many brothers, by his father’s generation the family hadn’t grown rapidly. Some, like his grandfather, had only one son, and some died early without heirs—all of which reduced the difficulty of memorizing the family tree considerably.
That said, moving house to take refuge was something that should be done quietly. Making a big show of it would easily attract the attention of bandits. Was going against the grain like this really okay?
In the evening, everyone set up camp in the woods near the main road. The various family Buqu stood guard on the perimeter while those inside started setting up stoves and cooking. It was busy but orderly until nightfall.
Xun Ye pitched his tent firmly, waiting for his father to come back for dinner. Only after everything was tidied up did he start asking questions.
—Father, give me the inside scoop. What’s the situation right now?
Xun Yue frowned slightly and said in a low voice, “Your grand-uncle was forcibly conscripted into office by Dong Zhuo, and at the beginning of this month he was just promoted to Sikong.”
“He’s pretty generous, isn’t he,” Xun Ye muttered under his breath.
He knew that Sikong, along with Taiwei and Situ, were collectively called the Sangong, one of the most honored and prestigious offices in the court. Wasn’t that even higher than Dong Zhuo’s own rank?
Xun Yue sighed silently. “From answering the summons to reaching the Sangong in just ninety-three days—rising to the pinnacle of ministerial power within a Xun—this is hardly a good thing.”
In earlier years, the consort clans and eunuchs at court had vied for power in turn, and the Xun clan had been dragged into both incidents of the Danggu Zhihuo. Although those proscribed as Danggu all had great reputations, one misstep could bring death.
So what if the Xunshi Balong were famous throughout the world? They still sat idle at home, frustrated and unfulfilled.
But not holding office had the freedom of not holding office, while entering officialdom came with its own compulsions.
Rising too quickly at the Chaotang was already improper to begin with, and being promoted by someone like Dong Zhuo—a man who manipulated power and threw the government into chaos—meant one could imagine the situation his uncle was in at the capital.
After Dong Zhuo entered the capital, he summoned famous scholars to serve in court, and several of the most renowned were from Yingchuan. Only because someone in the family could relay news from the center of the vortex could each of these families move their entire clans so quickly.
War was imminent, and whether they made a big commotion no longer mattered—the capital had no time to bother with their trivial affairs.
“Dong Zhuo’s entry into the capital was orchestrated by the Yuan Clan. Taifu Yuan Kui used his position as Lushangshushi to push him into a high position. But now, this chess piece is no longer willing to be manipulated by others.”
Before promoting officials, Dong Zhongying first restored the position of “Xiangguo,” which ranked above the Sangong, according to the old system, and took it for himself. The authority of the Xiangguo already exceeded that of Taifu Yuan.
If Dong Zhuo were simply a crude, unrefined military man, that would be one thing—but how could someone capable of stirring up storms at court not understand the arts of power?
He wanted to break free from the Yuan Clan’s control without completely alienating all the scholars of the realm, so he found ways to rehabilitate the Danggu who had been persecuted in previous years, and rapidly promoted a large number of scholars who had no connection to the Runan Yuan Clan or who came from humble backgrounds.
The Xun clan was a major family in Yingchuan, but they couldn’t compare to a prestigious house like the Runan Yuan Clan, whose disciples and former subordinates were spread across the entire realm.
Noble clans also fought among themselves for power. If Dong Zhuo wanted to support other families to contend with the Yuan Clan, the Yuan Clan would certainly fight back.
But Dong Zhuo had military power. If he was unwilling to be the Yuan Clan’s chess piece, there wasn’t much the Yuan Clan could do about it.
Xun Ye: Got it. The Runan Yuan Clan took their dog out without a leash and ended up being walked by the dog.
In other words, right now Dong Zhuo and the Yuan Clan were locked in a standoff at the capital, and his grand-uncle and the other officials promoted by Dong Zhuo at the same time might end up as cannon fodder.
The cannon fodder were safe for now, but the gossip around them could wound as well. Being mocked and needled every day was probably worse than being stabbed directly.
A single lamp flame like a bean, the dim candlelight making people even more uneasy.
“After Dong Zhuo entered the capital, he appointed Dianjun Xiaowei Cao Cao, also known as Cao Mengde, as Xiaowei of the cavalry. Cao Mengde refused the appointment, abandoned his post, and left the capital. He is now stationed at Chenliu and calling on heroes across the realm to crusade against Dong Zhuo.”
“And there’s also Zhang Yang, styled Zhishu, a former subordinate of Zhijinwu Ding Yuan. After Ding Yuan was killed, he raised troops in Shangdang, also under the banner of crusading against Dong Zhuo.”
Xun Ye shrugged. “Dong Zhuo’s tyranny will only bring more people to rise against him.”
“Every prefecture and commandery is raising troops, but few truly intend to rid the realm of the villain.” Xun Yue’s eyes grew more troubled. “After they rise, they all claim they’ll march on Luoyang to restore Prince Hongnong to the throne—but with Dong Zhuo’s violent temper, how can Prince Hongnong survive once he hears such talk?”
During the day, the rush of travel kept idle thoughts at bay, but at night, worry crept in uncontrollably.
The capital was a tangle of competing factions, with ambitious men everywhere. The Dahan dynasty had stood for centuries, but this time, chaos seemed truly inevitable.
Xun Ye worried too. Sigh. Living was hard.
This accursed feudal society—what it lacked was the iron fist of socialism.
The moon set, the sun rose, and as the sky began to lighten, the silent temporary camp stirred to life.
Xun Yu had sent word ahead to every county they would pass through, and the refugee caravan reached Mixian without incident.
With so many people, they couldn’t enter the city, so under the guidance of local officials, they settled at Mount Jiluo west of the city.
The new year was approaching—even refugees had to celebrate.
The adults fretted over how long they could hide and whether there was enough food, but the children didn’t know what worry meant. Whenever the adults weren’t looking, they gathered to burn bamboo, the crackling pops giving the season its proper festive feel.
Xun Ye wanted to burn bamboo too, but he was no longer a child of five or six. Communal living wasn’t like the old days when it was just him and his father, and a lad of fifteen or sixteen couldn’t act as childish as before. So he reluctantly gave up the idea.
Good news: after half a month, his adoptive father—whose signal reception was rather poor—finally remembered he had an adopted son still out in the world.
Bad news: the moment he appeared, he assigned a mission.
[On the twenty-third day of the twelfth month, the Kitchen God ascends to heaven. A band of soldiers attempts to slaughter innocents and claim their heads as battle merits during the stove-worship ceremony. Brave Child of Destiny, are you the savior descending from the heavens on rainbow clouds?]
[Number of soldiers: 5]
In the dry, mechanical voice of the system, Emperor Li Er appeared clad in Ming Guang armor, a pitch-black spear in hand with only its gleaming tip catching the sunlight—his entrance as flashy as if special effects had been added.
Xun Ye: ??
Like, was this system even serious?
The word “mission” made it feel less like studying and more like an immersive game played as a player character.
—I am the calamity.
First this Dahan dynasty was unserious, and now the already unreliable system was starting to be unserious too, was it?
Li Shimin explained, “The system says it’s picked up some new experience recently and updated its training plan. To stimulate your motivation, from now on we’ll try to attach a mission whenever we appear.”
It would randomly pick something nearby—any kind of mission was possible.
“Learning advanced experience from online games?” Three black lines appeared on Xun Ye’s forehead. “May I ask if completing missions comes with rewards?”
Emperor Li Er casually twirled the spear in a graceful flourish and cast a light glance over. “Rewards?”
Xun Ye immediately stood at attention. “Father has traveled far and wide; your son already owes you a great debt. How dare I ask for rewards?”
Li Shimin: …
Not “dare not”—”don’t want.”
This brat was playing word games.
Emperor Li Er couldn’t be bothered to quibble with a half-grown boy. He tested the lad’s skills in a secluded spot, confirmed he was capable of handling those bandit soldiers, and only then said, “Go tell your father, then set out to save the people.”
That combat ability—tsk.
The village targeted was some distance away. The bandit soldiers would wait until the stove-worship ceremony to wipe out the villagers and claim their heads as merits. If they dawdled any longer, they’d only arrive in time to watch the soldiers divide the spoils.
Xun Ye moved quickly. Getting out was easy—he could just claim he was going into the mountains to hunt.
After reporting to his beautiful father, he grabbed his usual short blade and self-made bow, then stepped onto his nonexistent rainbow clouds and sped toward the village targeted by the bandits to punish evil and uphold justice.
Too bad he couldn’t take a horse—that would’ve been faster.
One man and one spirit crept quietly toward the village entrance. They weren’t too late—the group waiting to burn, kill, and loot was hiding in the woods by the village gate.
Li Shimin’s gaze turned cold. Though he couldn’t personally cut down these men who were soldiers in name but bandits in truth, he still instinctively gripped his spear shaft. “In this era, the military is organized into six levels: wu, shi, dui, tun, qu, and bu. Five men make a wu, two wu make a shi, five shi make a dui, two dui make a tun, five tun make a qu, and two qu make a bu. Once the realm fully descends into chaos, a thousand troops under your command will be enough to seize a remote city and hold it.”
Xun Ye listened while analyzing the situation. The system’s numbers were correct—all five men were equipped with Huanshoudao, and one carried a Changji. Judging by their gear, they weren’t from the central Jinjun.
He’d long heard that Dong Zhuo indulged his soldiers in looting after entering the capital, but he never expected to run into them here.
Even the refuge site that Xun Yu and the others had carefully selected couldn’t guarantee safety—things elsewhere must be even worse.
Li Shimin narrowed his eyes. “See that Changji across the way? Take it.”
Xun Ye’s heart was pounding. He had been so focused on talking that he forgot he would have to deal with all five men across from him.
With his skill, grabbing the Changji wasn’t difficult, but taking on five at once…
“Are you really making me go alone?”
“This place is over three hundred li from Luoyang. The Liangzhou elites are all kept by Dong Zhuo’s side—if they were out looting, they wouldn’t come this far. These soldiers most likely deserted in the face of battle and didn’t dare return to camp, so they came up with this twisted scheme to slaughter innocent people and disguise it as suppressing bandits to escape punishment.” Li Shimin explained patiently. “Right now, you couldn’t take on elites, but dealing with five cowards who only dare to lay hands on ordinary folk is more than enough.”
Xun Ye took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he still looked timid. “Godfather, I’m scared.”
Fighting people was completely different from fighting wild beasts in the mountains. Even though he knew martial arts, taking on five at once really wasn’t something he could manage.
This was reality, not a game. If he died, there was no respawn, godfather.
“You’re someone who will go to war. A real man cannot say he’s afraid.” Li Shimin loosened up his muscles and joints, and his aura subtly shifted. “The spear is the king of all weapons. As the saying goes—a month for the staff, a year for the saber, a lifetime for the spear. Once your spear technique is refined, easily suppressing other weapons is no challenge at all.”
The Tang Dynasty had a dazzling variety of weapons. Li Shimin excelled at mounted archery, and his usual weapons of choice were the Jue Tian bow and the long lance. Long weapons all shared the same fundamental principles—since this wasn’t a cavalry battle today, he had casually picked up a spear to carry along.
Xun Ye’s eyes sparkled. “Wow! The Tiance General!”
Even though His Majesty looked impressive, he still didn’t think he could do it.
Rather than grabbing the weapon first and taking on five, he chose to run into the village and rally fifty against five.
Godfather, wait a moment. Your son will be right back.