Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

Zhao Tiezhu's voice was low and hoarse, each word sounding like it was being squeezed out of a crushed heart and lungs, carrying the stench of blood and tears.

"Zhao Family Village... For generations, a hundred or so households have lived off the meager fields outside the village. Life was hard, but peaceful enough." His eyes became vacant, as if piercing through the void before him to see the land that had given him life. "Ten days ago... just ten days ago! A band of Rouran bastards, I don't know where they came from, about fifty or sixty riders, pounced on the village like wolves..."

His body began to tremble slightly, and his fingers gripping the wooden stick turned white from excessive force.

"They...they kill anyone they see! Old Wang was plowing the field at the village entrance when an arrow pierced his neck...Aunt Li was holding her newborn baby and trying to hide in the cellar when they caught up with her...they...threw the baby to his death, and Aunt Li also..." He choked up, unable to continue, and turbid tears rolled uncontrollably down his face.

The surrounding refugees were already sobbing uncontrollably. The women clutched their children tightly, their bodies trembling violently, while the men, their eyes red, bit their lips hard, suppressing sobs. That tragedy was a wound that would never heal for them.

"I led dozens of able-bodied men from the village in a desperate resistance... but we only had hoes and machetes... how could we possibly stop those beasts on horseback wielding curved knives!" Zhao Tiezhu suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with deep-seated hatred and boundless pain. "Zhuzi, Gouwa, Shanzi... they're all dead! They died right before my eyes! The village... the village was burned to the ground! The grain, the houses... everything is gone!"

"Most of us who escaped by sheer luck are the elderly, women, and children; only these few able-bodied men remain," he said, pointing to the seven or eight wounded young men behind him, their eyes filled with grief and indignation. "We dared not take the main roads, so we could only crawl through mountain gullies, eat grass roots and tree bark, and drink dirty water from muddy puddles… just trying to find a place to survive. But in this world… where is there any way to live? We just escaped the Rouran dogs, and now we've run into this group of damned bandits!"

He suddenly knelt on the ground. This tough man, as if he had lost all support, pressed his forehead against the cold ground, his shoulders heaving violently, letting out a suppressed, beast-like wail: "One hundred and thirty-seven people! Now only these thirty or so are left! God! Open your eyes!"

A somber atmosphere, like a tangible dark cloud, hung over the hearts of every refugee. Their cries blended together, echoing across the desolate riverbank, even the wind seemed to weep.

Chen Xing listened quietly, his face calm, but his heart was far from unmoved. The data from the lab, the casualty figures in the papers, seemed so pale and powerless compared to the living, bloody tragedy before him. He could understand Zhao Tiezhu's despair, and he could feel the fragility of these refugees, like candles flickering in the wind. The cruelty of the chaotic world was presented to him for the first time in such a concrete and tragic way.

He didn't immediately help Zhao Tiezhu up, nor did he offer any empty words of comfort. He knew that at this moment, any words would be inadequate. He waited until Zhao Tiezhu's emotions had calmed down a bit before speaking slowly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of every weeping refugee:

"The blood debt of Zhao Family Village will be remembered."

His tone was calm, devoid of any impassioned vows, yet it carried a strange, convincing power, as if stating an inevitable fact. "Crying won't solve anything. To live, to let your deceased loved ones rest in peace, hiding isn't enough."

His words were like a stone thrown into stagnant water, causing the displaced people, who were immersed in grief, to pause slightly and involuntarily raise their heads to look at him.

Chen Xing's gaze swept over the bewildered, pained, yet faintly hopeful faces, and he continued, "In this world, wolves and jackals rule. If you don't want to be eaten, you either have to become an even fiercer tiger or leopard, or find a strong enough den that even tigers and leopards would be wary of."

He paused, then posed a crucial question, which was also the core of his next plan:

"Do you want a place where you can find shelter from the wind and rain, where the elderly and children can sleep peacefully, and where young and strong can take up arms to protect themselves, instead of living in constant hiding and uncertainty like we do now?"

This question strikes at the deepest desires of all displaced people.

Of course I want to! How could I not!

Zhao Tiezhu suddenly raised his head, his face still wet with tears, filled with excitement and disbelief: "Sir...you, are you telling the truth? There...is there such a place in this world?" He looked around at this land ravaged by war and slaughter. Where was there any so-called pure land?

The other refugees stared wide-eyed, their breathing quickening involuntarily. Even the injured man who had just been treated by Chen Xing and was slightly more conscious struggled to lift his head, a faint light flickering in his eyes.

Chen Xing didn't answer directly, but instead changed the subject, hinting at something: "With just your thirty or so people, mostly old and weak, lacking food and clothing, and without weapons, it's indeed difficult to move an inch in this chaotic world. But if..."

His gaze, intentionally or unintentionally, swept over the silent, rock-solid-like army of black-armored soldiers behind him. "What if someone could provide you with shelter, food, weapons, or even... a foundation where you could settle down and gradually grow stronger?"

The implication is already very clear.

Zhao Tiezhu wasn't stupid; he instantly understood Chen Xing's meaning. This mysterious and powerful young military officer was recruiting them! His heart pounded, his blood seemed to race. Surrender to this military officer? It meant gaining the protection of that terrifying army, it meant possibly no longer going hungry, it meant… a glimmer of hope for revenge?

But what's the price? There's no such thing as a free lunch. This military officer doesn't seem like an ordinary soldier; who exactly is he? What are his motives? Would joining him be another form of trap?

Struggle and hesitation resurfaced on Zhao Tiezhu's face. The refugees behind him exchanged glances and whispered amongst themselves. Hope was within reach, yet the unknown filled them with fear.

Just then, as if in response to Chen Xing's grand plan, or perhaps to propel the wheels of history, that cold, mechanical voice once again rang out without warning deep within Chen Xing's mind:

[Ding! Detected that the host has made initial contact with local forces and possesses a certain level of armed strength.]

The conditions for triggering the main quest have been met.

[The first official mission is now being released: Establish a foothold!]

[Mission Requirements: Establish or capture a stronghold capable of sustaining at least one hundred people (must possess basic fortifications, water sources, and arable land).]

[Task Time Limit: Thirty calendar days.]

[Mission Reward: Basic Supplies Pack (containing 50 high-quality iron farm tools, 100 jin of salt, 100 bolts of coarse cloth, and a quantity of various common vegetable seeds).]

[Failure Penalty: Some system functions are frozen, and the host's physical enhancement effect is reduced by 50%.]

coming!

Chen Xing's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive. The system's task coincided with his previous thoughts, and the rewards were quite practical, especially the farming tools and seeds, which were crucial for establishing a self-sufficient base. The penalties for failure were also quite severe, leaving no room for error.

This further solidified his resolve to find a suitable base as soon as possible. Although the group of refugees before him was weak, they were an important source of information for him to contact the world and understand the surrounding situation, and also the initial population base for his future power.

Seeing Zhao Tiezhu still struggling, he decided to add fuel to the fire, while also giving him some respect and room for choice.

"My surname is Chen, and my given name is Xing." He revealed his name for the first time, his tone calm. "I am not from any of the government forces you know. My goal is to establish a foundation in this chaotic world where those who follow me can live in peace and prosperity. This path is difficult, dangerous, and may lead to death."

His words were frank and direct, without concealing the risks involved.

"But at least, by following me, you will have the opportunity to take up arms and protect those you want to protect; the opportunity to have enough to eat and no longer have to resort to cannibalism; and the opportunity to ensure that the tragedy of Zhao Family Village will never be repeated!"

He pointed to the still faintly visible, colossal mountain of corpses, resembling a crouching beast, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying a resolute and unwavering determination:

"Will you continue like this, like stray dogs, not knowing when you'll die in the wilderness, becoming food for crows and rats? Or will you come with me and fight for a future, a future where you and your children can live with your heads held high!"

The choice is yours.

After saying that, Chen Xing said no more, but just quietly looked at Zhao Tiezhu and at the refugees whose faces were filled with fear, longing, confusion and the last bit of struggle.

He gave them the choice.

Silence fell once more along the riverbank, broken only by the howling wind and the heavy, uneasy breathing of the refugees. All eyes were fixed on Zhao Tiezhu.

Zhao Tiezhu's expression shifted. He looked at his clansmen who were staring at him expectantly, at the corpses of his companions on the ground, then at Chen Xing's calm eyes that seemed to contain the stars and the sea. Finally, his gaze fell on the silent, mountain-like Xuanjia warriors.

Time passed, second by second.

Finally, Zhao Tiezhu stomped his foot violently, as if using all his strength. He raised his head, all hesitation and struggle in his eyes replaced by a resolute determination. Facing Chen Xing, he prostrated himself deeply, his forehead pressed tightly against the cold ground, and roared in a hoarse but incredibly firm voice:

"Zhao Tiezhu! I am willing to lead the remaining members of Zhao Family Village to serve our lord!"

"From this day forward, I will serve you faithfully, even unto death, and obey your every command!"

"Those who harbor disloyal thoughts will be condemned by Heaven and Earth!"

Behind him, the thirty-odd refugees, whether young or old, women or children, seemed to have found their pillar of support. They all knelt down and bowed in Chen Xing's direction, choking back tears, yet with utmost devotion.

"I am willing to follow my lord!"

Although the voices were uneven and even tinged with sobs, the determination they contained—like a drowning person grasping at the last piece of driftwood—was clearly discernible.

Chen Xing looked at the rows of refugees kneeling before him and breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally taken the first step.

He stepped forward and personally helped Zhao Tiezhu up. His gaze swept over the crowd, and he said in a deep voice:

"Alright! Since you've chosen to trust me, Chen Xing, I promise you, as long as I have food to eat, I will never let any of you go hungry!"

"From this day forward, you are no longer rootless duckweed!"

Our goal is to find a home that truly belongs to us!

His words were like sweet rain falling on parched hearts, finally rekindling the light of "hope" in the eyes of these long-suffering refugees.