Chapter 1

It was already late at night, but the city of Ning'an was brightly lit. Several houses were engulfed in raging fires, and the night sky was filled with screams and wails. The streets were roamed by groups of soldiers in iron armor, occasionally laughing maniacally as they chased terrified civilians past the flames.

Only the northern part of the city was pitch black, as this was where the poor lived. In the dirtiest and most dilapidated corner of the slum, there was a thatched hut with a hole in its roof. A ragged child, about seven or eight years old, was sitting beside a tattered mat on the ground, watching a withered old man lying under a worn-out quilt, quietly wiping away his tears. The dim moonlight illuminated the old man's face, which was ashen gray.

After a while, the old man slowly woke up. His cloudy eyes saw the child sitting beside him and tried to raise his hand to touch the child's hair, but found he had no strength left.

"Qing... cough, cough, Qinghuan..." the old man called out weakly.

The child quickly rushed to his side and asked anxiously, "Old man, do you feel any better?"

"Foolish child!" The old man scolded, "The city has fallen, why haven't you left yet!"

"I, I..." The child stammered, but with a stubborn look, he said, "As long as you're here, I won't go anywhere!"

"Stupid! Stupid!" The old man panted in anger, a flush appearing on his face as he suddenly seemed to regain some energy and sat up. The child hurried to support him but was pushed away forcefully, "Quick, go! Go! Why won't you listen, you stubborn child? I'm about to die, why are you still worrying about me!"

The child pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to speak or leave.

The old man, helpless, knew that words were useless. He decided to use his last breath to settle his affairs. He reached into his robe and pulled out a yellowed book, "Take... take it! This is the divine book passed down from my ancestors. Keep it safe."

The child took the book and stuffed it into his own robe, saying anxiously, "Old man, lie down! Don't talk too much, or you'll exhaust yourself."

The old man shook his head gently, "If I don't say it now, I won't have another chance! You must keep the book safe. This divine book has been passed down in my family for generations. It is said that following its teachings can grant immortality and divine powers. I planned to give it to you when you grew up, but it happened so soon... Remember, don't let anyone else see it, or it will bring you disaster! Take it and go to Qingcheng!"

Seeing the child nod, he sighed, "Go, child. When I found you in the dilapidated temple, it was our destiny. I raised you for four years and gave you a chance to live. Later, when I became paralyzed, you, at four years old, started following a group of beggars to scavenge for food, and you supported me for four more years. Now you're here to see me off, you've repaid your debt. From now on, we'll go our separate ways, cough, cough..."

The flush on his face quickly faded, and his breath grew weaker. His gaze wandered to the roof, "I, Liu Yuancheng, was once a wealthy young man, riding in fine clothes. Later, in pursuit of immortality, I spent all my wealth and ended up as a beggar in my old age. Hahaha, it's all fate..."

His voice grew fainter until everything was silent.

The child stared at the old man's ashen face, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he made no sound. The silent grief was even more heart-wrenching.

After a while, the child, with a determined look, knelt beside the old man, wrapped his emaciated body in the quilt, and dragged him to the corner of the room. He covered him with some straw and knelt down, banging his head three times on the ground. Then, without hesitation, he turned and left the hut, his small figure disappearing into the night.

The child's name was Liu Qinghuan. He had been abandoned at birth and was found by the old beggar, Old Liu. He had lived in the beggars' den in Ning'an City since he was a child. Now, at eight years old, he was as thin as a six or seven-year-old.

Ning'an City had been captured by the Chu Yue Kingdom, and Old Liu had died. With no more ties to the city, he had to escape as quickly as possible.

He chose to walk in the shadows under the eaves, as he was familiar with the city's streets and alleys from his years of begging. He managed to avoid several groups of soldiers.

Turning a corner, Liu Qinghuan listened carefully to the sounds around him. Just as he was about to cross the street, he quickly retreated, hiding his small figure in the shadows.

He heard a woman's desperate cries and a man's excited shouts. Peeking out, he saw the door of a wealthy household half-open. A panting soldier was forcing a screaming woman against the door, moving quickly, while two other soldiers were helping to hold her white arms and legs.

"Damn you, Old Zhao, hurry up! I haven't tasted a noble lady yet!" one of the soldiers urged, his eyes red.

"Right, you've been at it for half an hour, you're almost killing her. Are you ever going to finish?" another soldier complained.

Liu Qinghuan couldn't bear to watch. He was too weak to help, so he chose to look away. He took a different street, winding through several alleys. Just one more corner, and he would reach the city gate.

But when he looked toward the city gate, he almost lost hope.

The city gate was guarded by a large number of Chu Yue soldiers. There was no way to escape!

Just as he was at a loss, a group of mounted guards escorting eight or nine carriages appeared from the other end of the street.

"Who are you!" the soldiers at the gate shouted, brandishing their spears at the approaching group.

The carriages slowly approached the gate. A guard rode out, holding up a wooden plaque and shouted, "Our master is Fu Qingshan, the head of the Fu family from Taibai Mountain, a close friend of General Chen He. We have urgent business to attend to outside the city, please let us pass!"

The guard in charge, who was already annoyed by his unprofitable duty, saw the carriages. Two of them looked like living quarters, but the others were full of supplies, making his mouth water. He estimated that the other side had no more than thirty or forty men, while he had nearly three hundred soldiers. Ignoring the plaque, he shouted, "I don't care if you're from Taibai Mountain or Heibai Mountain. Using General Chen's name, do you think I won't cut you down? If you want to leave, leave the carriages and horses behind, and go on foot!"

The guard's face changed, and he said sternly, "Brother, I advise you to check with General Chen. He is currently outside the city, and it won't take long to verify. Don't offend someone you shouldn't!"

The guard's eyes darted around, eyeing the carriages greedily. He thought, even if it's true, General Chen's punishment will come later. By then, he could share the loot with his men, and they could deny everything. He shouted, "It seems you prefer the hard way. Men, get ready!"

"Clang!" Both sides drew their weapons, and the tension was palpable. With a loud shout, they engaged in battle.

Liu Qinghuan watched intently. The soldiers outnumbered the Fu family, but each of the Fu family's men was skilled, fighting three to one and pushing the soldiers back.

He noticed that the guards protecting the carriages had been reduced to just a few, all focused on the battle. One of the cargo carriages was now exposed.

He hesitated for a moment, then crouched low and silently approached the carriage. He reached the back of the carriage without being noticed and slipped under it, clinging to the underside.

The battle raged on for about fifteen minutes, and then someone shouted, "General Chen is here, stop fighting!" The sounds of weapons gradually ceased, and people began to whisper. Liu Qinghuan couldn't hear clearly from his position. Soon, the carriages started moving again.

Once they were out of the city gate, Liu Qinghuan quietly breathed a sigh of relief, planning to find a suitable moment to leave the carriage. However, the carriages were surrounded, and he couldn't find an opportunity.

The caravan traveled for about an hour before slowing down and stopping. Liu Qinghuan's heart leaped, but then he heard someone knocking on the carriage wall, "How long do you plan to stay under there, boy?"

The man waited by the carriage. After a moment, a ragged, young boy timidly emerged from under the carriage, his bright black eyes looking up at him.

"What are you looking at! Get lost!" the man shouted.

Liu Qinghuan, grateful, bowed respectfully and ran away, hearing the man's rough laughter behind him.

After leaving the caravan, he found a large tree by the roadside and climbed up. It was mid-May, and the weather was getting hotter, so sleeping outdoors wasn't a problem. Liu Qinghuan spent the night in the tree and set off early the next morning.

The road to Qingcheng was filled with refugees. He mixed in with the crowd and followed them. When he was hungry, he dug for wild vegetables, and when he was thirsty, he drank from mountain streams. He had nothing and no one to rely on.

The Fu family, with their many belongings and possibly female family members, also moved slowly with the refugees. Their head, a man in a dragon robe, often rode beside the carriages, his face stern and exuding a deadly aura.

Liu Qinghuan followed the Fu family's caravan, occasionally being kicked and teased by the man who had found him, but he didn't mind.

This year showed signs of a severe drought. Near Ning'an City, the conditions were better due to the proximity to the Hengwu Mountains. However, the further east they went, the drier it became, and even wild vegetables became scarce. The number of refugees increased, and the villages they passed were mostly deserted, with the ground cracked and dry.

Fortunately, they would reach Qingcheng in a few days. Qingcheng was a major city in the Dayue Kingdom with a permanent military presence, so it should be safe.

On this day, by mid-morning, the sun was scorching, and the heat was almost unbearable. The road to Qingcheng was dusty, and the refugees were exhausted, their clothes drenched and dried repeatedly, leaving a layer of salt.

Due to the extreme heat, the refugees changed their travel schedule. They now set out at dawn and rested by mid-morning. They resumed their journey in the afternoon when the sun was less intense and continued until late at night.

At this moment, everyone was resting under trees or in the grass. Liu Qinghuan leaned against a dead tree, trying to stay cool. A gray-haired old man nearby kept muttering about the drought and the chaos, making Liu Qinghuan restless and unable to sleep.

Suddenly, he heard a whistling sound from the sky. He lazily lifted his eyes and saw a strange sight.

Three figures, one in front and two behind, were flying in the air like immortals, moving at incredible speed toward the road. Various dazzling lights and colors flashed between them, mesmerizing Liu Qinghuan.

The refugees below noticed the commotion and looked up, their mouths agape in shock, even those eating forgot to chew.