Ch 2

Chapter 2 – The Tyrant Meets the World

The morning mist clung to the valley, winding between the wooden houses of Qinghe Village. Smoke curled from chimneys, filling the air with the scent of steamed buns and boiling porridge. Farmers were already tending to their fields, their laughter and complaints mingling in the crisp air.

It was a simple life, a quiet life.

Zhao Min hated it.

He had been watching from the treeline for nearly an hour, studying the rhythms of the village, noting every point of weakness. No guards. No defenses. If he were still leading an army, he could have seized this place before breakfast.

But this was no longer his world of steel and fire.

The air tasted… different. Lighter, cleaner, yet filled with something unseen. Cultivation energy? He had no experience with it, but his instincts told him it was real.

And if it was real, it could be used.

His eyes flickered to the translucent screen hovering at the edge of his vision.

[Quest: Establish a Sect]

[Objective: Gain at least 10 followers and establish a sect base.

Rewards: Cultivation boost, Sect Leader's Authority skill.]

He exhaled slowly. A ruler was nothing without subjects.

It was time to begin.

-------------------

The village's main square was little more than an open space surrounded by stalls, with a large stone well in the center. Merchants shouted their wares, children ran barefoot through the dirt, and elders sat beneath a mulberry tree, sipping tea and exchanging gossip.

As Zhao Min stepped onto the worn path leading into town, all eyes turned toward him.

A stranger.

A traveler.

Or perhaps… something more dangerous?

He felt their stares, the way their voices quieted as he passed. In his old life, he had worn a uniform that demanded obedience, his very presence enough to send shivers through men's spines.

Here, he was nothing.

For now.

He stopped near a noodle stall, watching as the owner—a squat man with flour-dusted hands—kneaded dough. A woman, likely his wife, tended to a pot of simmering broth.

Zhao Min studied them, then glanced toward the man's knives, sharp and worn from years of use. He was no warrior, but there was strength in his arms. A man who had worked with his hands all his life.

Good.

"You're new here," the vendor said, his voice wary but polite. "Where from?"

Zhao Min met his gaze. "Far away."

The vendor's brow furrowed, but he did not press. Instead, he gestured toward the steaming bowls lined up on the counter. "Hungry?"

Zhao Min reached for his robes—then paused.

Money.

Of course. His entire fortune, his power, his resources—gone. He had no gold, no influence, nothing to trade.

The realization should have frustrated him, but instead, he smiled.

A test, then.

He glanced at the vendor's son, a boy of ten or eleven, watching him with curious eyes. "What's your name?"

The boy hesitated. "Li Tao."

Zhao Min nodded. "Your father has good hands. Strong. He must work hard."

Li Tao puffed up with pride. "My father is the best cook in Qinghe!"

"Is that so?" Zhao Min looked back at the vendor. "I've eaten in many places. I'd like to see if your son speaks the truth. But I have no money."

The vendor scowled. "Then no food."

Zhao Min chuckled. "Naturally." He leaned in slightly. "But tell me, old friend—what is more valuable? A single coin, or knowledge?"

The vendor narrowed his eyes. "Depends on the knowledge."

Zhao Min tapped the wooden counter. "Bandits will attack your village within the next month."

The vendor stiffened. Around them, a few eavesdroppers murmured.

"That's a bold claim," the vendor said slowly. "You have proof?"

Zhao Min gestured toward the farmlands beyond the village. "Your crops are strong, your livestock fat. But you have no guards, no fighters. If even I can see this, how long before others do?"

The vendor hesitated. The people around him had stopped pretending not to listen.

Zhao Min smiled inwardly. He had no idea whether bandits were coming or not. But uncertainty was a weapon sharper than any blade.

Finally, the vendor grunted. "You think too much, stranger. But you have an interesting mouth." He ladled a bowl of noodles and slid it toward Zhao Min. "Eat, then go spread your nonsense elsewhere."

Zhao Min accepted the bowl without hesitation.

The first step to ruling was knowing when to speak.

And when to let others think.

----------------------

[POV: Liu Qing]

The wind was sharp at the mountain's peak. Liu Qing knelt before his master, hands clasped in silent respect.

Grand Elder Xun stroked his long white beard, his gaze distant. "The balance shifts," he murmured.

Liu Qing lowered his head. "Master?"

"The heavens have stirred," Xun continued. "A foreign soul walks the earth, a fire in a land of reeds. He does not belong."

Liu Qing's breath slowed. His master's words were never to be ignored.

"What must be done?"

Grand Elder Xun closed his eyes. "Watch. Observe. And when the time comes…"

A pause.

"Test him."

----------------------

Zhao Min's bowl was empty.

The villagers still watched him warily, but he had already begun to plant seeds of curiosity. His mere presence disrupted their normal flow.

Good.

But he needed more than a meal. He needed people. Loyal ones.

He scanned the crowd, then spotted him.

A man—thin, disheveled, reeking of cheap wine. His face was bruised, his hands calloused. A man who had known battle, but had fallen far from glory.

A broken blade, waiting to be reforged.

Zhao Min stood and walked toward him. "Drinking this early?"

The man scoffed. "None of your business, stranger."

"On the contrary," Zhao Min said smoothly. "You interest me."

The man squinted. "You looking to hire a drunk?"

"I'm looking for a man who's been abandoned," Zhao Min corrected. "A man who once had purpose but lost it."

The man frowned. "What do you know about purpose?"

Zhao Min smiled. "More than most." He leaned in slightly. "Tell me your name."

The man hesitated. Then, grudgingly—

"Guo Hai."

Zhao Min clapped him on the shoulder. "Then remember this, Guo Hai. Today, you drink alone. But tomorrow?" His voice dropped. "You will have a cause."

Guo Hai stared at him, something shifting in his tired eyes.

Zhao Min turned and walked away.

A ruler did not ask for loyalty.

He created it.