Next Day, Evening — Beiguan Fortress, North Gate
Beiguan Fortress was the northernmost stronghold of the Sheng Empire, located in the Northern March Province. It served as the empire's northern shield.
Its towering walls and massive gates exuded an overwhelming sense of power. Since the founding of the empire, the fortress had withstood countless invasions—and had never once been breached.
Soldiers stood guard atop the walls, while even more patrolled in disciplined formations. Steel weapons and black armor rattled rhythmically as they marched.
Tonight, however, that rhythm was about to be disturbed.
At a distance from the gates, the silhouette of a lone man approached the North Gate.
The guards immediately tensed.
This was not a civilian city where merchants and commoners came and went freely. This was a fortress. Anything approaching from that direction more often than not meant danger.
An archer drew his bow and loosed a warning shot the moment the figure entered range—the arrow striking the ground at the silhouette's feet.
"Halt! Identify yourself!" the archer shouted.
It was standard procedure.
The figure did not stop. Instead, he continued forward, fully stepping into the moonlight.
A ripple spread through the soldiers on the wall.
Gasp—
"It's the Commander…"
"The commander is alive!"
"It's really Commander Qin Feng!"
"So much blood…"
"Didn't they say they saw him die?"
Moments later, the gates creaked open. A squad of ten soldiers—led by the colonel responsible for wall patrol—hurried out to receive him and escort him inside.
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Qin Feng
He walked into the fortress at a steady pace, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers around him.
Shock. Worry. And—unexpectedly—pity.
The colonel stayed close, visibly tense, as though ready to catch him at the slightest misstep, as if expecting him to collapse at any moment.
Qin Feng glanced down at himself and felt his face heat slightly.
Blood coated him—his skin, garments, armor—everything. Worse still, his damaged armor hung awkwardly from his frame.
'It's no wonder they're reacting like this.'
"Commander, should I call the physi—" the colonel began, only to be cut off.
"There's no need," Qin Feng said calmly. "The blood is not mine."
A ripple passed through the soldiers.
First—silence.
Then—excitement.
Only now did they truly look at him. There were no visible wounds on his exposed skin. And more importantly—
clenched in his hand was a blood-soaked sack, a roughly spherical weight pressing against the soaked cloth.
Whispers erupted, speculation spreading like wildfire.
Qin Feng turned to the colonel.
"Have all generals convene in the Command Hall in two hours."
The colonel saluted sharply and jogged off without hesitation.
Qin Feng then made his way to his quarters, instructing the servants to prepare a bath and a change of clothes.
---
Thirty Minutes Later
Qin Feng had shed his damaged armor and dreadful appearance.
He now wore dark robes trimmed with white fur, the fabric pristine and austere. His hair was bound neatly behind him, a few loose strands framing sharp, composed features. His skin was clean, unmarked—calm eyes steady and restrained.
The bloodstained warrior was gone—replaced by a noble of striking presence.
He entered his study and sat behind his desk, where an unopened letter lay waiting.
The sender—his mother.
He read it carefully, then closed it with a quiet sigh.
'You've really had a hard time, Mum.'
The letter was both a check-in and a report. The grain shipment from the household would be less than expected—some had been intercepted by bandits. Worse still, the court had refused to repay the loans once taken from his father.
Qin Feng sighed again.
If the original Qin Feng—and his father—had any flaw, it was that they were too loyal.
Here's the full story:
Qin Feng's father was the eldest son of the late emperor, born to a concubine who died in childbirth. From a young age, he displayed exceptional martial talent and unwavering resolve. He was one of the very few to awaken his physique naturally, without the aid of any awakening elixir.
The late emperor, suffering from poison and knowing his time was limited—and that he won't be able to live long enough for the crown prince to fully mature—, groomed him to become the greatest pillar supporting the the crown prince—the current emperor.
To cement this, he married him into the Duke of Qin's household, which lacked any surviving male heirs.
With his overwhelming strength and military brilliance, Qin Feng's father quickly rose through the ranks and became Commander of the Northern Frontier, commanding hundreds of thousands of troops and later earning the title of God of War.
Soon after, the late emperor passed away.
The current emperor then ascended the throne—while still young, and chaos followed. Nobles and officials schemed endlessly—some to turn him into a puppet ruler, others to siphon off the empire's wealth. Even imperial uncles rose in rebellion.
Yet every plot met the same immovable obstacle.
His father.
He crushed rebellions, donated the Qin family's wealth to replenish the treasury, and bore the empire's burdens so his younger brother would not have to.
With that shield in place, the emperor gradually built his own power base and secured loyal subordinates.
But by then, Qin Feng's father had become a public enemy—hated by nobles, officials, and even some of the emperor's closest aides.
The Duke of Qin household faced relentless political attacks… and assassination attempts.
The emperor turned a blind eye to most of them—intervening only when it benefited him.
And still, his father remained loyal.
And taught Qin Feng to be the same.
'Have to admit—the late emperor really brainwashed him well.'
His loyalty was so extreme that he crippled himself to strengthen the throne.
The Duke of Qin household was said to be richer than the empire itself. Yet his father donated half of their wealth to the royal treasury—and continued giving from what remained.
He even refused to exercise one of a duke's greatest privileges: maintaining a private guard force of 500 to 2,000 soldiers—in order to put the emperor's mind at ease.
If he hadn't done that, the so-called "bandits" would never have dared touch their grains, and if they did, it would be the last thing they did.
Instead, his focus stayed solely on the Northern Frontier Army. The Duke's estate retained fewer than a hundred private guards—barely enough to patrol the estate.
'I really have my work cut out for me, huh?
Well… at least I have the Check-In System.'
"System. Check in."
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Author's Note
Hope you're enjoying the story so far.
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Thank you.