Chapter 115: An Age of Struggle

Li Yuan was a patient, and patients were not allowed to march quickly. For a journey of less than two hundred li, the father and son of the Li family took a full three days. The victorious troops, with banners waving and crowds thronging, received the reverent gazes of the people of Jinzhong. Yun Hao understood—this was a grand military parade meant to flaunt their martial prowess. Its sole purpose was to intimidate the petty criminals and troublemakers. From now on, no matter how harshly the old man squeezed you, no resistance would be tolerated. Dare to rebel, and the fate of the city watchtower outside Huozhou would be your warning.

Of course, beyond showcasing military might, another major task was managing the economy. Many officials eager to flatter the Duke of Tang for his great victory followed behind. The carts laden with goods at the rear of the procession revealed that the Li family had gained substantial benefits this time.

After three days, Yun Hao had lost even his passion for eating, something he usually cherished most. He listlessly remained in the carriage all day, which deeply worried Lai Shun’er and Qi Biao. Even the little roast chicken sensed something amiss. Quietly sitting beside Yun Hao, the child stilled his usual mischief, simply watching Yun Hao’s large, watery eyes.

Over thirty thousand people had marched together, yet only this one survived. He was truly lucky—his grandfather and mother had paid with their lives, but finally, with the help of a powerful figure, he had survived. He had a new home, a new name, a new life.

“Brother Hao, what’s wrong? You won’t eat, and it worries me so much I can’t eat either,” Qi Biao said sorrowfully, filling a fifth bowl of rice with a spoon, pressing it down firmly.

Having crushed tens of thousands of bandits, Li Yuan had gained immense glory. The emperor’s decree had yet to arrive, but it was obvious what was to come. Promotion, titles, and praises were inevitable. For the royal family, Li Yuan was a hero who had suppressed heresy and upheld the rule of the Great Sui.

Whether the Li family liked it or not, the journey of over a hundred li was completed. Jinyang City lay just ahead, and Li Yuan gradually awoke from his dream of success. No matter how great his achievements, he could not change the fact that he was still a subject of the Great Sui.

Yun Hao had no interest in the grand city-entry ceremony. He told Li Yuan he felt unwell and returned to the Yun family estate. As soon as he entered, he went straight to his bedroom. Previously, Zhang Miaoke had to help him undress, doing so half-heartedly. This time, without waiting for Zhang Miaoke, he stripped completely on his own.

Zhang Miaoke had set a rule: no bathing, no bed. Though Yun Hao appeared to resist, he secretly liked this rule. Every time, Zhang Miaoke’s soft hands would intimately touch him.

“Got something on your mind?” Zhang Miaoke took Yun Hao’s hand and led him into the bath. The instant the warm water enveloped his body, Yun Hao felt a surge of happiness. Yes! To be alive and to feel warmth—that perhaps was happiness.

“N-nothing!” Yun Hao answered uncertainly, unsure how to share his thoughts with Zhang Miaoke.

“Nothing? You haven’t eaten for days? I know you—you can’t stand being hungry,” Zhang Miaoke’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed like a lazy cat’s. Her hand rested on Yun Hao’s shoulder, massaging with steady, gentle pressure.

Yun Hao was speechless! How could he forget? Lai Shun’er and Qi Biao were Zhang Miaoke’s informants. Every move he made was surely reported to them. No wonder Zhang Miaoke took so long preparing the bathwater—she had been interrogating her two underlings!

“More than thirty thousand people, hand in hand, could circle Jinyang twice or more. In just a few days, only little Roast Chicken survived. Do you think the Lis are trustworthy? Won’t there come a day when even our family will be…” Yun Hao voiced his fears. Li Yuan’s ruthlessness was deeply frightening. He was destined to ascend the throne and become a mighty dragon commanding Chang’an City.

And dragons, as creatures, were never known to be herbivores. A dragon is a dragon—it eats meat. Not only meat, but also humans. A mere small grasshopper like himself, hopping wildly before a dragon. When in a good mood, the dragon might play along; when bad, it could swallow him whole, leaving nothing but strands of flesh between its teeth. Since ancient times, serving a ruler has been likened to taming a tiger, and Yun Hao finally understood the truth of that saying.

“For this alone? Do you realize that these rebels you pity are wolves in the eyes of the Great Sui? You feel sorry for them as they are killed today, but do you know how cruelly they treated the common people and government officials? In Longyou, I’ve heard of bandits who killed and ate people. Robbery and pillaging were everyday occurrences.

“If they were allowed to grow strong, that would be the real disaster. The people of Jinzhong would surely suffer. Do you think that would bring you peace?

“There’s no right or wrong here—only winners and losers. Since they chose rebellion, using their lives to seek wealth and status, they must prepare for failure, for becoming the spectacle on the city watchtower. Life offers few chances to fight, and in truth, there is only this one. Success means nobility; failure means ghosts and demons. You’re young—these things you’ll understand in time.”

Zhang Miaoke’s words stunned Yun Hao. Later generations often romanticized peasant uprisings as fearless heroic acts, showering them with praise. But in truth, the destructive impact of peasant revolts far exceeded any constructive value.

The most famous example was Li Zicheng, who, after capturing Luoyang, openly cooked the beloved Prince Fu and the deer from his garden in what he called a “Feast of Fortune.” Zhang Xianzhong, when food ran out in Sichuan, plundered villages to capture people for food.

Throughout history, peasant uprisings were cannibalistic demons. Each rebellion left mountains of corpses, unleashing brutal revenge on the regime. These uneducated peasants became true monsters. Yun Hao had not understood this until Zhang Miaoke’s guidance, connecting it to many later examples and arriving at a startling conclusion.

This was an era ruled by superstition and swords. People believed in gods and Buddhas while clutching knives and guns. Barbarism and civilization—two seemingly opposing forces—coexisted harmoniously, shifting seamlessly when necessary.

The most honest farmers, once armed, could become ravenous wolves. The most brutal bandits, under law and order, could become good citizens. All because order was the foundation for peace in this world. The rebels were merciless destroyers of that order. Later ruling parties had once risen proclaiming the smashing of old orders.

Yet once in power, they began establishing new orders, loudly advocating for a society governed by law, locking power within institutions—all for the sake of control. The identities of rebels and rulers transformed without obstacle.

With this realization, Yun Hao understood: having come to this world, he must abide by its rules. The moral codes of future generations did not fit here; only the unchanging struggle of a thousand years was apt.

To fight heaven, to fight earth, to fight men—what endless joy there was! This truly was an age of conflict.