In the sixth year of Shengde, the Chiyou banner emerged in the north, and Jupiter was in the east.

War began, generals died, the land was engulfed in flames, and the Purple Tenuity Star was about to move.

 

…

 

Outside Pingyang, a line of people was slowly moving into the city.

 

A donkey cart arrived and stopped at the end of the line. Noticing the cart’s slowing pace, a furry-headed boy, about fourteen or fifteen years old that was clearly dressed as a servant, poked his head out from the back of the simple cart. Seeing they had reached the city gate, he quickly ducked back inside and said to someone inside the cart, “Master, we’ve arrived. We’re in Pingyang!”

 

Nowadays, the nobility usually traveled by horse or ox cart, while ordinary wealthy merchants and commoners used donkey carts. These carts often lacked a proper carriage, sometimes even a roof, making passersby curious enough to peek inside. What they saw left them stunned and rooted to the spot.

 

Inside the cart sat a young man of exceptional beauty, with delicate, ethereal features. Leaning against the side of the cart, his face was pale, and his breathing faint, as if he was ill. Those who could walk into the city were mostly illiterate peasants, and unable to think of any elaborate words to describe him, offering only the most sincere and simple praise in their hearts.

 

So beautiful!

 

…

 

At that moment, the young man, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them. His dark lashes fluttered, revealing a pair of clear, serene eyes. They were slightly aloof, but that could be forgiven, given his remarkable beauty.

 

…

 

As he made a move to adjust his position, his servant immediately reached out to help him. Despite the assistance, the young man couldn’t avoid a fit of coughing after barely shifting, his sickness causing a sound that tugged at the heartstrings of those around him.

 

In this era, even a mild fever could be fatal, and the onlookers’ initial amazement turned to sorrow. Seeing the plaque above the old city gate, which indeed read “Pingyang City”, Xiao Rong breathed a slight sigh of relief. He hadn’t dared to rest along the way, dragging his frail body with its severe illness in a desperate rush, but heaven had not forsaken him, he had finally arrived. His emotions were stirred by the grueling journey, and he grew impatient before even entering the city.

 

He looked around and found an elderly woman who seemed approachable, then, holding onto the cart for support, asked her, “Excuse me, maam, do you know if the King of the North resides inside Pingyang City or outside?”

 

Xiao Rong thought he could ask anyone about the King of the North, whose fame was so widespread that everyone would know his whereabouts. If the King was with his army, there would be no need for him to queue to enter the city.

 

The old woman, delighted to be spoken to by such an ethereal beauty, eagerly replied, “The King of the North? He left with his army a few days ago to fight the Wusun.” She wasn’t lying and answered with great enthusiasm, however, upon hearing this, Xiao Rong’s smile froze.

 

“Gone? Gone again?

 

“I chased him from Xinan to Huaiyin, then from Huaiyin to Liangzhou, and from Liangzhou to this damned Pingyang. Now you’re telling me he’s gone again?! Is Heaven toying with me, or is he? I’ve traveled three thousand miles! Fine, fine, fine! Gone again, you say. Where did he go this time? East, west, north, or south? Just tell me!”

 

The old woman and the onlookers all took a step back in fear as Xiao Rong, his face contorted in anger, stood up from the cart, gripping the cart’s sides with his upper body leaning out. It looked as if he were ready to devour someone, and not just one, but two or three someones.

 

…

 

Before the old woman could utter another word, Xiao Rong’s face suddenly stiffened. The familiar sensation of weakness swept over him, and the next second, he fainted, his eyes rolling back.

 

His servant immediately cried out, “Master!”

 

He caught Xiao Rong and heard him, in his delirium, utter a final, difficult sentence.

 

“Qu Yunmie, you scoundrel, I… I will kill you!”

 

The servant: “…”

 

…

 

At the same time, two hundred miles from Pingyang City, outside Anding City, the Northern Defending Army was encamped.

 

The old woman’s information had been slightly off. The King of the North hadn’t left to fight the Wusun, who had already been subdued. It was the Huns, returning to reclaim their honor, though their few thousand men posed little threat. This minor matter didn’t require the King’s personal attention, but he had grown tired of the endless debates in Pingyang City and seized the opportunity to both fight and take a break.

 

However, even after leaving the city, there was no peace.

 

The situation in the realm was complex, divided into two major factions. The South, ruled by the so-called legitimate Yong Dynasty, was known as Southern Yong. The North, which had been occupied by barbarians and warlords for the past decade, was finally unified this year by the Northern Defending Army. Qu Yunmie, as the King of the North, didn’t claim the title of Emperor or adopt an era name, but he was the de facto ruler of the land.

 

Apart from a few minor factions and barbarian tribes, the only two widely recognized figures were the eight-year-old emperor of Southern Yong and renowned since young Qu Yunmie.

 

In turbulent times, heroes emerged. Those seeking fame either established their own dominance or sought out a patron. Thus, people arrived daily at the Northern Defending Army camp, hoping to pledge their allegiance to the King.

 

Today’s visitor was somewhat notable, having served as the Governor of Jianning and being the son of a noblewoman from the prestigious Jing clan of Wuling. Though he had never worked as an advisor, he believed the King of the North to be the greatest Hero of the Age and came to offer his services.

 

Qu Yunmie had him invited in, treating him neither warmly nor coldly, offering tea and seating, giving him due respect. As the man spoke eloquently, Qu Yunmie listened patiently. Initially, the visitor was nervous upon seeing Qu Yunmie, who stood over six feet tall (about 1.95 meters) and was strikingly handsome, but exuding an air of menace from years of battle. Sitting casually but with underlying aggression, his feet pointed towards the guest as if ready to strike at any moment.

 

Impressed by Qu Yunmie’s impeccable hospitality, the visitor soon relaxed, finding him more approachable than expected.

 

He began with his prepared speech and, encouraged by Qu Yunmie’s approving smiles, continued to share his views on the current situation, eventually proposing his solutions.

 

After listening to him speak at length, Qu Yunmie finally applauded, “Excellent insights, sir.”

 

Feeling buoyed, the visitor humbly responded, “Oh, not at all. If you, my lord, don’t mind—”

 

Before he could finish, there was a flash of steel, and his head rolled to the ground. Qu Yunmie, now expressionless, sheathed his sword and resumed his seat, kicking the still-warm head aside and calmly wiping the blood from his blade. The guards, not daring to make a sound, silently removed the body and the head.

 

Left alone in the tent, Qu Yunmie, unfazed by the bloodstains and the lingering scent of blood, showed no regret for his actions. He even let out a cold laugh, mocking, “Dressed in finery, yet a scoundrel at heart. Truly a scholar.”

 

…

 

Pingyang City, evening.

 

Xiao Rong had too many things in his life that he couldn’t figure out.

 

He couldn’t understand how he had ended up in his current situation, nor how Qu Yunmie met his end. The history books he had read weren’t detailed enough to record every word Qu Yunmie had said or every meal he had eaten. Although he remembered all the major events, every time he fell into a trap was always at a moment he couldn’t have anticipated.

 

Take now, for example. The sixth year of Shengde was Qu Yunmie’s most glorious period. He had reclaimed the North, driven away the Wusun and the Huns, made a nonaggression pact with the State of Shanshan, and even his arch-enemy, the Xianbei, were like locusts in autumn—unable to last for long.

 

He was undoubtedly a great hero. If he was second, no one could claim first place. None of the subsequent tragedies and misfortunes had occurred yet. Logically, this should’ve been his best time, with the strongest luck. So how could he still end up in trouble now and then?

 

Xiao Rong couldn’t understand why Qu Yunmie seemed to engage in self-torture daily, nor why the system had such a perspective, claiming he was the most likely to change Qu Yunmie’s fate. Was it just because he had read a lot of history books? If he had known, he wouldn’t have read them and would have watched more cartoons instead!

 

……

 

Xiao Rong lay on the bed in despair. After a while, the door opened, and his servant, a young man named Ah Shu, entered with concern, carrying food. “My lord, please eat something. I went out to inquire, and I learned that the King of the North left just a few days ago. If we hurry, we can still catch up.”

 

Xiao Rong: “…”

 

Catch up again?!

 

Qu Yunmie had zero survival skills, but his travel speed was unparalleled! Xiao Rong couldn’t tell if he rode a fast horse or a somersault cloud. He himself was already vomiting blood from the exertion and still couldn’t catch up. Qu Yunmie was traveling with a large army, and Xiao Rong only had a young servant. If he continued to pursue him, he might die on the road.

 

No, he couldn’t chase him any longer.

 

With a stern face, Xiao Rong made a firm decision and changed his strategy. “No, we’ll stay here. I’ve come to a realization. Chasing after him isn’t the way to go. From now on, I won’t pursue him. I’ll make him come to find me—no, come to invite me!”

 

Anyway, chasing was futile and exhausting. He might as well rest in the inn and wait. After all, with his 1,500 years of accumulated knowledge, he should be able to outwit an ancient fool.

 

……

 

Ah Shu obeyed Xiao Rong without question and had no objections. Meanwhile, another driver, after settling the bill, was about to leave.

 

Coincidentally, the driver frequently traveled between major cities and knew the staff at the inn. A curious clerk pulled him aside to inquire about Xiao Rong. He had no ill intentions, just curiosity.

 

“That young master is so handsome! Which noble family is he from? When I brought in water, he even thanked me, nearly scaring me to death!”

 

The driver looked at him with a complex expression. “Young man, don’t forget, people are not always what they seem.”

 

The clerk was puzzled. “What do you mean? Is that Young Master gold and jade on the outside, but rotten on the inside?”

 

The driver sighed, glanced around to make sure no one else was around, and then beckoned the clerk closer. The clerk leaned in eagerly, and the driver finally spilled the words he had been holding back.

 

“It’s more than that! I’ve never seen anyone like him in my life. Sure, he looks good, but he’s full of problems. First, he’s more delicate than a girl. If you rub his face too hard, he complains of pain, if the carriage jolts, he cries out, and he sighs all the time, as if I owe him something. Second, he’s genuinely frail, fainting every three days and coughing up blood every five. I was terrified the whole trip, afraid he’d die and no one would pay me for the ride. Third, his temper is terrible, with no gentlemanly demeanor, more like a market shrew. Fourth, he’s extremely petty, comparing prices for everything and accounting for every penny. Which noble young master acts like that? Fifth, he’s superstitious, always calculating something and muttering to himself. No one understands what he’s saying. His illness must have affected his brain, he’s beyond saving. Sixth—”

 

The clerk’s eyes were spinning with confusion: “There’s more?!”

 

The driver understood his reaction, having experienced a similar shock when he first met Xiao Rong. He patted the clerk’s shoulder sympathetically. “Actually, the trip wasn’t that bad. After all, looking at his face, I could tolerate any amount of trouble.”

 

The clerk: “…”

 

＊

 

At the same time…

 

In the military camp of the King of the North’s army, within the command tent, faint voices could be heard. After a long while, the tent flap lifted, and an elderly man dressed in a scholar’s robe emerged. He sighed in resignation, shaking his head slowly as he returned to his own tent. Inside, someone had been waiting.

 

Seeing him return, Jian Qiao immediately stepped forward to inquire, “Master Gao, how did it go?”

 

Gao Xunzhi, startled by the sudden voice, lifted his head to see Jian Qiao. His expression softened, “Ah, General Jian. The King said that man suggested he acknowledge his roots and grant a posthumous title to General Qu, to show his loyalty to the Central Plains and win the favor of its people.”

 

Jian Qiao: “…”

 

Well, that person deserved to die.

 

For most foreign princes, such advice was acceptable, given the era’s frequent invasions by non-Han peoples. Central Plains people hated these invaders deeply. However, for their King, Qu Yunmie, who was a mixed-blood of Central Plains and non-Han descent, this suggestion was akin to asking him to renounce half of his heritage, effectively abandoning his loyal followers who fought fiercely against the invaders.

 

The King would never agree to that.

 

……

 

Upon learning the reason, Jian Qiao felt relieved, also deeming the man’s fate deserved. Gao Xunzhi, however, looked more troubled.

 

As a scholar, he saw the far-reaching consequences of the King’s action. Once news spread, no scholars would dare to join the King’s service for a long time.

 

Therefore, he needed to act quickly.

 

With a solemn tone, Gao Xunzhi said, “The King’s council of advisors is still too small. General Jian, after consulting with the King, I’ve been tasked with sending you back to Yanmen Pass. Once there, you must find capable people for the King, regardless of their background or past. We need anyone with real talent.”

 

Jian Qiao: “…”

 

Isn’t this a bit desperate?

 

Ignoring someone’s background is fine, but their past? Are we to recruit even former bandits? Gao Xunzhi was in his fifties and a close friend of Qu Yunmie’s father. He has been a loyal supporter of the Northern Defending Army for many years, commanding immense respect. Although Jian Qiao had his doubts, he obediently agreed.

 

As he prepared to leave, Gao Xunzhi called him back, sternly reminding him, “Though we disregard their background and past, we must consider the King’s preferences.”

 

Jian Qiao suddenly understood and nodded repeatedly. Indeed, the King had strong likes and dislikes. Recruiting someone he hated would lead to a quick beheading. He stood straight and attentive, “Master Gao, please instruct me.”

 

Gao Xunzhi said, “First, the King dislikes sensitive people. While not everyone needs to be a tough warrior, they shouldn’t be overly delicate. Second, they must be physically strong. The King loves to campaign. Without good health, how can they keep up? Plus, the King despises those who are frail and frequently sick. Third, given the King’s volatile temper, the advisors should be mild-mannered. You know the King well, he responds better to gentleness. Fourth, the King detests petty and materialistic people. Keep that in mind when recruiting. Fifth, avoid those who are overly superstitious or constantly speak of mystical matters. Finally—”

 

Jian Qiao exclaimed, “Master Gao, there’s more?!”

 

Gao Xunzhi paused, then said, “Just one more. It’s crucial. Whether they are unattractive or average-looking doesn’t matter, but never recruit someone who is overly handsome. The King has a particular aversion to such men. If you bring one, both of us will be punished.”

 

Jian Qiao couldn’t help but glance towards the King’s tent, recalling his usual demeanor. He nodded in agreement.

 

After Jian Qiao left, Gao Xunzhi pondered. Though the criteria were extensive, they weren’t too strict. Most people wouldn’t meet all the conditions. If someone did…

 

Ha, it was a ridiculous notion. Such a person couldn’t possibly exist.

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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