So hungry, so hungry, so hungry, I really…
He was born in Jambudvipa, like a star falling from the sky onto this familiar land, transforming from a distant, unreachable existence into a grounded, living being.
Thus, he became "he."
Why he had come, he hadn’t yet remembered. In his dazed state, he struggled to recall his name.
This was important—it was his anchor. If he forgot this, he would lose many things, his instincts told him.
He thought for several months and finally remembered the two characters: "Ying Zheng."
Good, very nice. That would be it.
Life—to be born and to survive. He almost got stuck at the first step.
So hungry, so hungry, so hungry… The spiritual energy was so sparse. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t eat enough, and felt like he was about to starve to death!
What was going on? Did the mortal realm have no spiritual energy at all?
His mother was a mortal, and the surroundings lacked spiritual energy. What could he eat?
So hungry…
If he didn’t eat something soon, he would die in the womb.
The instinct to survive drove him to leave his mother’s body early, or else both mother and child might perish.
He tumbled onto a soft cushion, shook the blood off his eggshell, and focused all his spiritual awareness on searching for something edible nearby.
What was this? A quilt? Not edible.
And this? A handkerchief? Also not edible.
His vague consciousness was like a blank sheet of paper, extending soft, thread-like perceptions, like the antennae of a snail or an ant, cautiously probing the surroundings.
So fragrant.
What was that smell?
This was edible!
Little Zheng Zai joyfully discovered food, eagerly marking it with his antennae. Just as he was about to devour it in one gulp, he suddenly realized something was off.
Huh? This seemed to be a person.
Ah? This seemed to be his father.
Couldn’t eat it… couldn’t eat it…
His jubilant antennae drooped dejectedly, listless and too hungry to move.
What were they chattering about outside? He couldn’t understand and didn’t want to listen.
Suddenly, a slightly sweet liquid dripped onto his shell. The antennae protruding from the shell coiled around the liquid and swallowed it directly.
Warm, rich in spiritual energy, and with a pleasant texture.
He waited eagerly for more, but none came. So, he nestled inside his shell, pricking up his ears to listen for a while.
So it was his father’s essence blood, no wonder it gave him some energy and spirit after consuming it.
Father was edible… noted.
Most of the time, he curled up inside the egg, fast asleep. The outer shell became a natural little house, shielding him from all dangers and prying eyes. Occasionally, he would wake up for a moment or two to listen to the conversations outside.
His mother’s hand gently approached, carrying the fragrance of peonies, softly and tenderly caressing him.
"Does he need to bask in the sun?"
"Didn’t Mr. Yuan say?"
"No. Then I’ll place him here to sunbathe and see if he moves."
His meddlesome and quick-handed father took him from his cozy cradle and placed him on a sun-warmed couch.
The Golden Crow stealthily cast its gaze, thread-like and annoying, irritating him.
He hated being watched.
His spiritual awareness instantly enveloped the egg, while sharp, piercing thorns rose like mirrors, reflecting the gaze back.
Who allowed you to look at me? How rude!
The Golden Crow sheepishly pulled a thick cloud over itself and hid behind it, behaving obediently.
"Why did the sun disappear just as I arrived?"
"Put him back. He doesn’t seem to like moving much."
"Then it seems his temperament takes after yours."
"I still prefer him to be more like you."
The fragrance of peonies drifted faintly closer, and those hands caressed him with such tenderness it made him drowsy.
Though they hadn't met yet, they seemed like wonderful parents—one like spring blossoms reflected in water, the other like the blazing sun of midsummer, both full of vitality and flourishing vigor.
Ying Zheng couldn't help but like such parents.
"Are you really taking him into battle?"
"Don't worry, there's a protective mirror in the armor. Even if I get injured, he won't be harmed."
Who are you looking down on? Zheng Zai thought indignantly to himself. I'm quite formidable.
He lazily closed his eyes and, following the instinctive drowsiness of an infant, fell into a deep sleep.
Stars swirled in his dreams, connecting into a vast expanse and falling like rain.
Nestled in Li Shimin's embrace, he actually felt a bit cramped, especially with the hard armor outside the clothing.
But through the fabric, he could clearly sense the other's heartbeat—always steady and calm, far more stable than the emotions displayed outwardly.
Beneath the healthy and robust skeletal muscles flowed gurgling blood, coursing through countless vessels from the heart, reaching every part of the body.
Zheng Zai fell asleep to the rhythm of this heartbeat and woke to its sound, gradually growing accustomed to it.
Once they left Chang'an, the turbid energy grew increasingly dense and chaotic. Illusory and real Ghost Souls, along with Yaoshou of all sizes, were everywhere—clinging to unburied bones in the wilderness, lurking in the murky shadows beneath the water, and hiding in the deep shadows of the forest.
Why are there so many Yaoshou and ghosts? Zheng Zai thought unhappily. Isn't anyone managing this?
He struggled to recall—who was supposed to be in charge of such matters?
This time, he slept longer but less peacefully, withdrawing his Spiritual Awareness to avoid being tainted by the foul energy outside.
Until hunger woke him. Feeling his empty stomach, he had no choice but to stir a little, reminding his father in this life that it was time to feed.
"Cough… Are you hungry?" The voice, which should have been rhythmic and expressive, now sounded weak and hoarse—highly unusual.
Zheng Zai was startled, almost wondering if he had slept for decades. Otherwise, why was this person's energy so unstable?
The heartbeat was off, and the scent was wrong too.
Zheng Zai immediately released his Spiritual Awareness, wanting to see what was wrong.
Li Shimin covered his mouth and coughed for a long time, trying to suppress it but only coughing harder until his lungs and heart ached.
He never expected his luck to be so poor. In the first month after arriving at their destination, before even engaging the enemy, he had fallen ill.
The illness struck fiercely, leaving him feverish day and night, so weak he could barely lift his limbs. He had no choice but to instruct his two deputy generals to hold off on any rash actions to avoid falling into the enemy's trap.
Worried, he took out the egg and fretted, "I suppose you must be hungry, but I'm sick. Can you consume my essence-blood? Will it pass the illness to you?"
Zheng Zai wanted to tell him it wouldn't, but seeing how severely ill he was, he feared feeding might worsen his condition, so he remained silent.
Ah, life is hard. The little one sighed.
He was as strong as a tiger hunter when they set out, yet in less than two months, he fell ill just like that.
Zheng Zai was also troubled. He needed to find a way to get something to eat.
The moonlight on the fifteenth night was dim, obscured by dense clouds. The air seemed to carry a faint, fishy scent of Yaoshou.
This odor, mixed with the smells of moisture and blood, writhed like leeches in the shadows—dark and merging into the night.
What was this smell?
Zheng Zai felt disgusted and displeased. He hated it when the territory he had marked was invaded—it was nothing short of a provocation.
Wherever Li Shimin was, that was his domain. What filthy, unclean thing dared to come looking for trouble?
Seeking death.
Zheng Zai was truly enraged. His Spiritual Awareness surged like rampant vines, recklessly spreading in all directions, instantly enveloping the tent before covertly expanding outward from its center.
Li Shimin hesitated, pricking his fingertip with a needle to tentatively draw a drop of blood, which he fed into Danke.
He waited but saw no dark golden patterns light up on the egg, and couldn’t help sighing.
“So it really doesn’t work? Then once I recover, I’ll feed you more.”
Zheng Zai had no time to reply. He was busy contending with an unseen force, exhausting himself completely. Having just taken a bite, he used up all the strength he had regained.
He couldn’t extend his Spiritual Awareness any further—he was too tired.
“Your Highness! It’s terrible! Generals Liu and Yin have taken their troops and left without permission!” Duan Zhixuan urgently reported.
“When did this happen?!”
“Just today. The two generals said, ‘What’s so fearsome about Xue Ju? Our Tang Army is strong and well-equipped. If we don’t take the initiative to attack, won’t we be laughed at? Since Your Highness is ill, rest well and wait for their triumphant return…’”
The worst-case scenario had occurred. Li Shimin was too young to fully suppress these meritorious veterans. Once a crisis arose, people grew restless, scrambling to claim achievements.
Impatience and recklessness—a major taboo in warfare.
Li Shimin threw on his robe, tucked the egg into his chest, and found his hands trembling uncontrollably. Even when he pressed down on his wrists, he couldn’t stop the shaking.
Damn it.
“Which direction did they…” Before Li Shimin could finish, dizziness washed over him. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he could barely stand steady.
Zheng Zai anxiously withdrew his extended Spiritual Awareness, wrapping it around Li Shimin’s hands. The egg stirred uneasily, but Li Shimin pressed it against his chest through his clothes.
“Don’t be afraid.”
As if comforting a child, or perhaps comforting himself.
Leaning on the table, his hands trembling incessantly, he forced himself to sit down. Calmly wiping away his sweat, though his vision blurred intermittently, it didn’t hinder his strategizing.
“The two generals left Gaozhi City, intending to form ranks on the southern side of Shallow Water Plain,” Duan Zhixuan quickly supported him, answering in detail.
“How many troops did they take?”
“They took nearly all forty thousand soldiers,” Duan Zhixuan whispered.
Li Shimin nearly laughed in anger.
“Did no one oppose them?” he asked calmly.
“Generals Liang Shi and Pang Yu objected, but without Your Highness present, the arm couldn’t twist the leg. In the end, they had to obey their superiors,” Duan Zhixuan spoke truthfully. “However, they sent a message hoping to inform Your Highness of this change.”
Zheng Zai listened quietly. Each word seemed understandable, but when combined, they felt somewhat obscure.
He behaved obediently, not disturbing Li Shimin. Instead, he pressed against the other’s chest, trying to dispel the ominous demonic aura and pestilent energy.
“How many usable personnel remain in the city?” Li Shimin suddenly clenched his hand, surprised to find it had stopped trembling.
“Aside from Gaozhi City’s own garrison, only our Qinwangfu’s personal guards and other sick soldiers remain,” Duan Zhixuan added, muttering to himself, “Lately, too many people have fallen ill. Could it be some kind of epidemic?”
“And you still dare to get so close to me? Aren’t you afraid of infection?” Li Shimin actually found the mood to jest.
“If disaster is unavoidable, wouldn’t we still die if we lose this battle?” Duan Zhixuan said bluntly. “I believe Your Highness will not fall here, so there’s nothing to fear.”
Among the generals of the army Li Shimin led on this campaign, some were his trusted followers. However, their official ranks were not high enough, their prestige was insufficient, and naturally, their influence was limited. Thus, when he fell critically ill, these men had no choice but to follow the main force.
Disunity, impatience, eagerness for merit, and outward strength masking inner weakness—in Li Shimin’s eyes, the Tang Army at this moment was riddled with flaws.
That was why he repeatedly emphasized not to rashly engage the enemy, insisting that fortifying defenses and wearing down the foe was the best strategy.
“Your Highness, what should we do now?” Duan Zhixuan asked eagerly.
Author’s Note:
Zheng Zai: So hungry