No Gray Hair Allowed in This World, System Rankings Begin

The Greenwood Camp was brightly lit.

Soldiers continuously hauled in carts of spoils and wounded from outside the camp, while militiamen busied themselves cleaning up the battlefield. Despite the aftermath of war, the camp buzzed with even greater activity.

Though hectic, there was an air of thriving energy.

Outside the central command tent, numerous officers and soldiers gathered, anxiously peering inside.

"How is Young Hero Li?"

"When Lady Han brought him back, he looked terrifyingly pale."

"He mustn’t be harmed—without him, none of us would be standing here today."

"Fortune favors the brave. One day, Young Hero Li might top the Hidden Dragon Ranking. If he could survive the chaos of battle, he won’t fall here in camp."

"I won’t rest easy until I see him wake."

Though the crowd outside was large, their voices remained hushed, all eyes fixed on the tent.

Inside.

The young man now hailed as a peerless hero, Li Mo, lay on a bed, his face pale and breathing shallow.

An elderly military physician checked Li Mo’s pulse, then stroked his beard and sighed.

Ying Bing frowned slightly.

Earlier, while tending to Li Mo’s wounds, she had examined him thoroughly. Though his injuries looked severe, they were far from life-threatening. So why the sigh?

Qu Sheng coughed and asked, "Well?"

"Young Hero Li’s physique is nothing short of extraordinary. After such a battle, he only suffered damaged meridians and exhaustion. With rest, he’ll recover fully. But as for you, Commander..."

"My condition can wait. Focus on preparing medicine for Young Hero Li first."

Qu Sheng finally relaxed, cutting off the physician before he could continue.

"For Young Hero Li’s condition, a mild restorative tonic will suffice."

The physician hesitated but complied, scribbling down the prescription as he spoke.

No sooner had he finished than soldiers outside rushed to fetch the herbs—some needed brewing, while others were pre-prepared military concoctions that could be taken immediately.

Once this was done, the physician turned back to Qu Sheng.

"Commander, you..."

"Let’s talk outside."

Qu Sheng stood and pushed open the tent flap, only to freeze mid-step.

The crowd outside was far larger than he’d imagined.

A sea of soldiers stretched before him, thousands strong, yet eerily silent.

It seemed every soldier and officer not on logistical duty had gathered.

Such reverence was usually reserved for the prince himself. In their eyes, Qu Sheng saw echoes of his own past devotion—back when the prince had led them to slay a calamitous demon beast.

Yet what Li Mo had accomplished today dwarfed even that feat.

If Li Mo raised his banner now, these men would follow him through fire and flood without hesitation.

So long as Young Hero Li lived and soared higher, hope would burn bright in their hearts.

The Greenwood Camp would never disband.

"Commander, how are you holding up?"

"Has Young Hero Li woken yet?"

The questions came in hushed but urgent tones.

Qu Sheng cleared his throat, sidestepping the first question, and reassured them,

"Young Hero Li hasn’t awakened yet, but his condition isn’t dire. With proper care, he’ll recover."

At his words,

The tension in the air eased visibly. Hardened warriors exhaled in relief, their expressions softening.

Qu Sheng glanced back into the tent and added,

"Alright, everyone, go and rest now. Miss Ying is tending to Young Master Li Mo's injuries."

"If you really have nothing to do, go wrap dumplings. The winter solstice is coming soon—we’ll all eat together."

With that, he took the old military physician and left.

They walked to a deserted area, a place rarely visited, now blanketed in silver snow.

A figure clad in white stepped into the snow, like a white horse vanishing into reeds, his silhouette blurring into the vast whiteness, growing ever more frail.

Qu Sheng turned and asked softly:

"Do you think this general’s time is near?"

"If you rest and recuperate properly..."

The physician began to offer comfort but, under Qu Sheng’s gaze, reluctantly admitted:

"By this winter."

Commander Qu appeared merely gray-haired, but in truth, he was like a withered tree burned to its end—no ordinary life-extending elixirs could help him now.

He knew the imperial capital or those reclusive ancient sects might possess treasures capable of defying the heavens, perhaps even effective.

But such divine artifacts were beyond price.

Qu Sheng lowered his eyelids, calm in the face of impending death, and lifted his gaze to the silver moon in the snow:

"Before the prince returns, this matter stays between us."

Since ancient times, famed generals and beauties alike were never meant to grow old before the eyes of the world.

Yet those who resisted this fate, no matter how illustrious, would gradually become monstrous—like Han Zhen.

He refused to be such a man.

...

Before the central command tent.

Some soldiers had been reluctant to leave, but Ying Bing had already brewed the medicinal soup and carried it inside.

A gust of wind lifted the tent flap slightly.

There, the woman as cold and distant as the winter moon outside pressed her jade-like lips to the spoon, gently blowing the medicine cool before feeding it into Li Mo’s mouth.

"Maybe we should just go."

"Why leave?"

"Kid, listen to your brother—let’s go wrap dumplings."

"I’m great at rolling dumpling skins, come on, let’s go together."

"Alright then, let’s all go wrap~dump~lings!"

The soldiers dispersed noisily.

As they left, they thoughtfully lowered and tied the tent flap securely, ensuring no winter wind could pry it open.

Inside the tent.

After finishing the medicine, Ying Bing applied ointment to his wounds.

Her eyes darkened as her pale fingers traced the scars across his body. She knew these gruesome-looking injuries weren’t fatal, yet her pearly teeth bit harder into her lip.

It must have hurt so much.

If she had fully mastered the Hundred Avian Forms and summoned the Phoenix Spirit today, wielding the True Phoenix Feather, how could she have let him charge into battle alone?

If only she were stronger.

Her icy fingertips brushed his face—his lips, nose, eyes...

Suddenly, his lips parted, and a faint murmur escaped:

"Ice block... the war’s over. We won."

"You promised... my gift... where is it?"

Ying Bing’s fingers curled slightly, her pained gaze turning complex and unreadable.

One moment, he’s cutting through armies and seizing enemy banners; the next, he’s spouting nonsense in his sleep?

What peerless hero...

Just a big kid at heart.

Then—

A voice, startlingly familiar, echoed in her ears:

[Scanning the Southern Territories for all prodigies...]

[Comparing combat prowess for the host...]

Ying Bing froze.

So many major events had happened recently that she had completely overlooked it.

The system ranking she had set up herself—calculating the days, today was indeed the time for comparison.

Combat power was determined by one's current and near-future strength over a period of time.

Ying Bing stared at Li Mo. Given his current injuries, it was clear he wouldn’t recover anytime soon.

Didn’t that mean...

........

PS: Requesting an early two-chapter update today for some rest, dear readers—please grant this humble author your approval! Need to wake up early tomorrow to outline the next major plot arc.

This little struggling writer has never taken a break or missed an update before. Just this once, two chapters for a breather, to refresh the mind, and maybe read a bit (I swear on my chastity—definitely not going to play Black Myth: Wukong!).

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