"If I went to the battlefield, with my abilities, I could at least achieve a rank above the 10th level in the twenty-tier noble system, right?"
A young man, tall and broad-shouldered with sharply defined features, carried a dirt-stained hoe on his shoulder. As he returned to his village and observed the joyful, celebratory mood among the villagers, he couldn't help but think to himself.
"What are you thinking about?" A weathered voice interrupted his thoughts from behind. The young man turned and saw an elderly figure, slightly hunched but still strong, looking at him.
"Nothing!" The young man instinctively averted his gaze from his father's calm and steady eyes, not daring to meet them.
"Thinking about joining the army? Going to the battlefield to fight for others?" the old man asked flatly. The calmness in his voice only deepened the young man's fear, his face betraying unease.
"No," the young man quickly denied, knowing full well how much his father detested the high-ranking rulers. Though the reasons were unclear, he guessed it was due to some event from his father's youth. Otherwise, his father couldn't possibly harbor such disdain.
"No? Then you'd better wipe that look of envy off your face. I'm not blind," the old man remarked calmly.
"Uh..." The young man awkwardly rubbed his face, feeling as though he hadn't been that obvious. Though he did indeed envy the rewards, he thought he had hidden it better.
"Go home. The more you look, the more envious you'll get."
"Alright," the young man replied meekly, following the much shorter figure of his father. Despite his size and strength, he walked obediently behind him like a child.
As they returned home, the young man couldn't resist glancing at the neighbor's house. It was a newly built structure with green tiles and blue bricks, standing in stark contrast to their own dilapidated mud house.
His neighbor's son, a childhood friend of his, had joined the army, fought in battles, and earned military merit to become a first-tier noble, a Gongshi. This newly built house was part of his reward. The young man had seen it all: an official had led a team of craftsmen to tear down the old mud house and construct the new one in no time.
And this was only part of the rewards his friend had received for becoming a Gongshi. His friend had also been granted a plot of land and a servant to work the fields. Watching all this unfold, the young man couldn't help but feel envious.
His childhood friend was just an ordinary person with no extraordinary abilities. The young man knew this better than anyone. In fact, he was confident that even if he stood still and let his friend attack him with all his strength, his friend wouldn't be able to hurt him. Yet, this ordinary person had gained wealth and status on the battlefield. How could he remain calm?
He, on the other hand, possessed strength far beyond that of ordinary people. At such a young age, he had already completed four awakenings. Yet here he was, confined to this small village, working as a farmer under his father's supervision. The stark disparity in outcomes made it impossible for him not to feel frustrated.
"Ah, it's you, Alan. Back from the fields with your father?"
As the young man and his father returned home, a thin, dark-skinned woman carrying a clay jar stepped out from the neighboring house. Upon seeing him, she greeted him warmly.
"Yes, we just got back," Alan replied with a somewhat awkward smile.
"Why waste your youth working the fields? Why not be like my son and join the army? At your age, spending your time farming feels like such a waste, doesn't it?" The woman muttered as she glanced at the old man, who had already entered the house.
"Farming is fine. At least I can live steadily. If I went to the battlefield, I might die at any moment," a voice drifted from inside the house.
"What nonsense are you spouting!" The woman immediately snapped, throwing her clay jar to the ground and shouting toward Alan's house.
"Auntie, calm down. You know how my father is; there's no point arguing with him. It's not worth getting upset," Alan said quickly, bowing his head and smiling apologetically to calm the angry woman.
Thankfully, the woman didn't press the matter further. She picked up the broken pieces of the jar and returned to her house. Alan, still carrying his hoe, entered his own home.
"Father, Auntie was just trying to give me some advice. Why did you have to say something like that?" Alan asked, annoyed.
"Advice? Good intentions?" The old man's eyebrows furrowed as he snapped, "Let me tell you something: all nobles..."
"Father, Gai Kingdom doesn't have nobles anymore. The king expelled the old nobility," Alan interjected, mumbling a reminder about the flaw in his father's argument.
"I wasn't finished speaking! Don't interrupt me!" The old man glared at him. "Let me tell you, all rulers—whether nobles or kings—see people like us, born from the bottom, as nothing more than tools to be used. They will never treat us as equals.
Take this so-called military merit system. Isn't it just a way for the king to lure ordinary people into risking their lives with promises that are impossible to resist?"
"But isn't that a good thing? Ordinary soldiers protect their homeland and earn rewards for defeating enemies," Alan replied. He felt this system was fair—clear rewards and punishments. "You can't expect the king to just give us land and houses for free!"
"Stop talking back to me! I don't care what you think. You're not joining the army or fighting for those rulers!" The old man's face darkened with anger, as if recalling painful memories from his youth.
"But this war is about defending our homeland. It's about protecting our own land," Alan retorted.
"That may be true, but it's not your responsibility. Even if Gai Kingdom falls, it won't be because you didn't join the war," the old man said resolutely.
"If everyone thought like you, Gai Kingdom would've been destroyed long ago," Alan muttered, visibly frustrated.
His aunt's words had hit a nerve. He was in the prime of his life, possessing extraordinary strength, yet he was stuck tilling fields. It felt like a complete waste of his potential.
"You will not join the army. I'm telling you one last time: if you dare to go, I'll break your legs."
"So nothing's allowed, huh? You just want to keep me here in this backwater village forever? If you want me to live an ordinary life, why did you push me to cultivate in the first place?"
Alan's temper flared at his father's ultimatum. At his age, the temptation of fame and fortune was impossible to ignore. He yearned to return to the village as a hero, basking in glory and enjoying the riches he believed he deserved.
All of it was within his reach, yet his father's restrictions kept him confined to the fields, living as a farmer.
"I pushed you to cultivate because the world is chaotic. I only wanted you to have the strength to protect yourself," the old man said before walking off to prepare dinner.
As night fell, Alan followed his lifelong habit of training for a while before lying down to sleep. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't find rest.
His heart was filled with resentment and dissatisfaction. He wasn't content with his current life. He wanted more—better things, greater opportunities.
"My father must have experienced something in his youth that made him resent rulers. He's probably already enjoyed all life has to offer, so he can let go of everything. But I'm different," Alan thought to himself, struggling with his inner turmoil. From childhood, he had obeyed his father in nearly everything, but this time, he was determined not to.
"He's my father, but I'm not his puppet. I don't have to follow his every command. I need to make my own decisions and do what I want."
Sitting up on his bed, Alan listened carefully to the steady breathing coming from the adjacent room. When he was sure his father was asleep, he gritted his teeth, opened the window, and slipped out of their shabby mud house.
What Alan didn't notice was that as soon as he left, the steady breathing in the next room came to an abrupt stop. A long, weary sigh echoed in the silence.
"Sigh..."
...
"At this point in the war, it should be brought to an end. Haven't you distributed enough land taken from the nobility? If this continues, you'll soon face the awkward situation of having no rewards left to grant."
"Not enough land to reward them? Then we'll take more. The other kingdoms have plenty of land," Muria replied with a casual smile, showing little concern for his father's warning. He understood all too well that once the military merit system was fully implemented, the entire army—and the kingdom—would transform into a beast driven by insatiable desires for expansion.
"But we're running out of food. Don't forget that most of the able-bodied men have already been lured to the battlefield by the promise of rewards."
"Yes, I understand," Muria sighed helplessly at the mention of the food issue. Even with sky-high morale and a burning desire for war among soldiers and officers alike, it wouldn't change the kingdom's dwindling grain supplies. High morale couldn't fill empty stomachs.
"I'll take action and put an end to this war."
When an
individual's power reaches a certain level, it can surpass the collective. Muria was precisely such an existence. His combat strength far exceeded the average level of powerful individuals on the Ymir Plains.
Most strong warriors on the Ymir Plains had undergone six awakenings. Only in the Yas Kingdom might there be individuals who had achieved seven awakenings—but even that was just a possibility, unconfirmed as of yet.
As for Muria, even he wasn't entirely sure where his strength stood. But one thing was certain: his power surpassed seven awakenings. He had the ability to end the war at any time.
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