Tai Ping 01

When Fang Zhiyi opened his eyes, he found himself riding a horse, leading a disorganized troop behind him.

The system promptly delivered the plot to him.

This was the twilight of an empire, and Fang Zhiyi was but a lowly chiliarch in the Dragon Cavalry. The elite force had pursued enemy raiders alone, only to fall into an ambush—marking the tragic end of the last remaining crack troops of the Great Sheng Dynasty.

The sole survivors were Fang Zhiyi and his unit, now reduced to fewer than eight hundred men.

When they finally returned to the foot of Jiayu Pass, they were met with a relentless hail of arrows.

Amid the shouts of the defending general, Fang Zhiyi learned that his cavalry had been branded "traitors."

He couldn’t comprehend it—having barely survived the battlefield, how had they become rebels overnight? Of course, he understood nothing of the court’s political machinations.

With no other choice, Fang Zhiyi led his ragtag band of fewer than eight hundred men on a grueling journey. Along the way, he witnessed countless human tragedies. As a child, he’d heard storytellers speak of "years of famine, when men devoured one another," but he hadn’t grasped the meaning. Now, seeing it with his own eyes, he realized how horrifying those six simple words truly were.

They slaughtered their horses for food, fought off desperate refugees, and trudged onward through hardship. Finally, after entering Yong Province, they were taken in by the magistrate of Ji County, Chu Chaofeng.

After a hearty feast of slaughtered cattle and sheep, Fang Zhiyi resolved to pledge his loyalty to this principled lord. That same day, he met Chu Chaofeng’s daughter, Chu Zhaoning—a most unusual woman.

Every other woman he’d known stayed secluded indoors, occupied with needlework, weaving, or, in rare cases, music and dance. But Chu Zhaoning was bold and unrestrained, seemingly on good terms with everyone in the Chu household. She disdained learning practical skills, instead preaching ideas like equality to the servants. Occasionally, she’d tinker with small inventions—useless, but novel enough to amuse people.

As chaos engulfed the land, Chu Chaofeng decided to raise an army. He rallied over a thousand able-bodied men from his clan and recruited thousands more from Ji County, raising the banner of rebellion. Soon, his forces swept through several neighboring commanderies, and he transformed from a mere magistrate into the Governor of Yong Province.

With territory and troops under his command, Chu Chaofeng’s ambitions grew rapidly. He aspired to overthrow the Great Sheng Dynasty and claim the throne for himself. Though Fang Zhiyi didn’t understand the allure of that seat, if his lord desired it, he would fight relentlessly to secure it. As a vanguard, that was his duty.

One by one, the original eight hundred brothers who had followed him perished in the chaos of war—until only Fang Zhiyi remained.

The realm stabilized somewhat as the lesser factions were swallowed up by Prince Wu, Prince Xiang, and Chu Chaofeng, leaving a three-way stalemate. Chu Chaofeng, now brimming with pride, would often point to the distant, mist-shrouded mountains and say, "Zhiyi, look—that is my empire."

Fang Zhiyi would force a smile. Though he wasn’t one for deep thought, he knew one thing: if the world knew peace, the people would have food to eat.

The tripartite balance remained unbroken, like three mutually restraining forces, none daring to make a reckless move. And so, for a time, the land enjoyed a fragile tranquility.

However, things did not unfold as Fang Zhiyi had imagined. Chu Chaofeng declared himself the King of Chu, taking many concubines—some even forcibly taken from commoners. When Fang Zhiyi tried to intervene, he was demoted and sent to serve as a local official in a remote county.

At first, this seemed like a reprieve, allowing Fang Zhiyi some rest. But soon, he received devastating news: Chu Zhaoning had been sent as a "gift" to Prince Xiang.

The reason? She had been spreading "nonsense" about equality and scientific farming among the peasants in her territory. Someone reported to Chu Chaofeng that his daughter was "inciting rebellion" among the common folk. Unwilling to execute his own flesh and blood, Chu Chaofeng instead handed her over to Prince Xiang as a gesture of goodwill to solidify their alliance.

What became of Chu Zhaoning afterward, Fang Zhiyi did not know. Another famine struck, devastating his county. People either starved or fled. Rumors spread that a neighboring county had already rebelled, following the same path Chu Chaofeng once had.

Though Fang Zhiyi now lived in relative leisure, he still waited for a summons from the King of Chu, ready to take up arms and serve as his vanguard once more.

But the news that finally reached him was far worse: the King of Chu had taken his own life.

As it turned out, Chu Zhaoning and Prince Xiang had grown close. Under her counsel, Prince Xiang adopted her strategy—she returned home with her guards under the pretense of a family visit, only to launch a coup at midnight, killing her own father.

With the fall of the Chu kingdom, Prince Xiang effortlessly absorbed its territories into his own domain.

And Chu Zhaoning? She was no longer the woman Fang Zhiyi once knew. Her heart and mind belonged entirely to Prince Xiang. Gone were her ideals of equality—now, she reveled in her newfound privilege as one of the elite.

"Magistrate Fang, it is time," the eunuch said, presenting him with a silken noose.

Fang Zhiyi had long expected this day. The former generals of the King of Chu had been systematically executed under Chu Zhaoning's orders. He simply hadn’t run—he was too weary.

"Tsk…" Fang Zhiyi clicked his tongue after absorbing the full weight of the situation.

With a sudden gesture, he halted his horse. The dispirited soldiers behind him stopped as well, watching their commander.

"Men," he said, turning his mount to face them, "I’ve received word. The imperial court has branded us rebels."

"What?"

"You’re joking!"

"What did we even do?"

Chaos erupted among the ranks. Fang Zhiyi cracked his whip to silence them. "Enough! If you doubt me, send two men ahead to the checkpoint. Strip your armor, disguise yourselves as civilians, and verify the news yourselves." He pointed at two random soldiers.

Under the gaze of their comrades, the two disappeared toward the city gates. Since the gates remained closed at night, they did not return until dawn.

The news they brought left the entire group in stunned silence. After fighting tooth and nail on the front lines, how had they become traitors?

An old veteran threw his sword to the ground. "Damn it all! What do we do now?"

Others collapsed where they stood, their eyes hollow. They had thought returning home would bring relief—instead, they were exiles in their own land.

Fang Zhiyi watched them silently. After a long pause, the same veteran turned to him. "Commander… what now?"

At these words, all eyes turned to Fang Zhiyi—the man who had led them out of that encirclement.

Fang Zhiyi simply stared back at them, silent for a long moment before finally speaking in a measured tone: "Are kings and nobles born to their thrones?"

The soldiers, though not highly educated, grasped his meaning after a brief pause.

"Captain... but we..." The veteran glanced back, his implication clear: with just a few hundred battered troops, even the simplest task would be a struggle.