Chapter Two: Enlisting in the Frontier Army

"Good boy, bold and resolute!" Fan Jin chuckled warmly. "No wonder you’re my son, able to resist the lure of gold and silver and withstand threats of force!"

Chen An raised an eyebrow. "Testing me?"

"Exactly!" Fan Jin nodded. "Your mother and I just wanted to see how you’d react—to find out if you truly have filial piety or are merely scheming for the family fortune under your mother’s name."

"And if I had chosen gold and silver..."

"Then you’d just be a rich man, no harm done," Fan Jin said with a meaningful smile. "But if your mother’s intimidation scared you off... well, the money would be gone too."

Chen An nodded in agreement. "Without courage, you can’t even hold onto gold and silver, and worse, you’d risk your life."

"See? What a clever boy!"

Madam Li sighed. "Master, really—you know this child is smart, yet you insist I play the shrew just to test him."

"Ahem, better safe than sorry," Fan Jin coughed awkwardly, smiling sheepishly. "Alright, let’s have some supper together."

"You punch with no sense of force, you scared me!"

...

At the dinner table.

"Master, you really shouldn’t have left Beiliang City without permission this time."

Hearing Madam Li’s reproach, Fan Jin paid no mind.

"A general only needs to decide victory from afar, but a commander must not only foresee victory from afar but also strategize behind the scenes."

Seeing Fan Jin indifferent, Madam Li snapped coldly, "You shouldn’t be saying this to me—you should say it to the emperor, the Ministry of War, or better yet, Wei Jiukong."

Wei Jiukong? The Grand Chancellor?

The young emperor had ascended the throne, and it was said that the late emperor had appointed two prominent regents—one being Fan Jin himself, Duke of Beiliang, the other Wei Jiukong, overseeing the capital and all officials.

"Wei Jiukong, self-important Grand Chancellor, disregards the northern barbarian threat and insists on weakening the vassal states."

"He can’t tolerate even kings of his own surname, let alone you, the greatest king of a different surname."

Madam Li’s expression was grave as she turned to explain to Chen An, "You’re not allowed into the ancestral hall because the matter is far too complicated."

"Your father, as King of Beiliang, can barely protect himself. If you enter the ancestral hall now, it’s handing the capital a handle to use against us. Your father and I aren’t afraid, but you—and your mother—would inevitably get caught in this dirty business."

"Who exactly is Wei Jiukong?" Chen An asked.

"A treacherous minister!" Madam Li said with a dark glare. "The greatest traitor in the court..."

"Women’s talk," Fan Jin’s voice rose sharply.

Madam Li just rolled her eyes in response.

"These court matters, your father will handle them. You need not worry."

"As for entering the ancestral hall, I’ve already made up my mind."

"I owe your mother a debt and must make it up... but it will be hard on you," Fan Jin’s voice grew heavy. "Would you... be willing to join the army?"

"Join the army?"

Chen An was puzzled. What did this have to do with entering the ancestral shrine?

"Our Fan family passes down its legacy through military merit. As descendants of generals, we are unlike ordinary families. To enter the ancestral hall, military achievements are required without exception. Your father started with thirteen suits of armor, fought over fifty battles, often bleeding on the blade’s edge. If you want to enter the hall, you must pass this test."

Fan Jin explained gravely.

Madam Li softly added, "These peaceful days won’t last long. The warfields will be endless, armies pressing the borders. Only by proving yourself with real skill and valor will you earn respect and a place to stand."

"In times of peace, culture is prized; in times of chaos, valor is."

"Don’t blame us for being harsh—if you can’t achieve this, you don’t deserve to enter the Fan ancestral hall."

"Five years, at most five years. Once you become a general guarding some strategic pass, you’ll have nothing to worry about."

Chen An nodded silently.

After considering deeply, he said, "Then I will go to Youzhou!"

Youzhou, Bingzhou, and Liangzhou were known as the Three Northern Provinces of Beiliang.

The three provinces formed a protective crescent, guarding the northern frontier.

Unlike the southeast’s naval battles or the southwest’s mountain warfare, the northern grasslands allowed armies to march hundreds of miles in a day, sweeping across like locusts.

The eighteen nomadic tribes of the grasslands pillaged and burned without mercy, their wars bringing endless misery to both sides.

"Youzhou’s battles are the fiercest. I fear..."

Madam Li frowned slightly at Chen An’s words.

"Madam, where the fighting is most frequent, that’s where I’ll have my chance to become a general within five years!"

Chen An stood, clasping his fists. "I beg your approval!"

Madam Li’s expression softened.

"Very well!"

Fan Jin slammed his hand on the table and stood. "Then Youzhou it is! Someone, write the military enlistment order!"

...

Youzhou.

Huyang Pass.

The vast drill ground was packed with rows upon rows of recruits.

New conscripts swarmed in a noisy, bustling crowd.

Youzhou’s harsh climate had forged its youth into fierce fighters.

Loyalty and righteousness were etched deep into their bones.

Every family had soldiers; every household wore mourning clothes.

Joining the army wasn’t just for common folk—exiled prisoners were conscripted as well.

Amidst the chaotic mix, those like Chen An, who sought to kill enemies and earn merit for the country, were few.

Perhaps the veterans, hardened by years of war, had lost much goodwill.

Chen An handed over his enlistment order.

The recruiting officer glanced at it casually, quickly scribbled Chen An’s name and place of origin into the roster, and dismissed the new soldiers to collect their uniforms.

"Here’s yours."

Chen An took the uniform from the officer’s hand and looked at the faded, worn clothes and the long sword riddled with chips and cracks.

Chen An frowned.

"This uniform is too shabby," one soldier complained.

"Enough talk! Wear it if you want, or go bare-bottomed if you don’t," the recruiting officer barked sharply.

His harsh tone stirred discontent among the recruits.

"This rag? Even the village idiot wouldn’t wear this!"

A burly man threw the tattered uniform to the ground in anger and shouted.

The already noisy camp erupted into chaos once more.

"Oh, we’ve got a troublemaker here."

The recruiting officer drew his sword and shouted fiercely, "This is a military camp! Who dares to cause trouble? Step up and fight me!"

Everyone exchanged glances, suddenly intimidated.

Chen An stepped forward and asked, "How do you want to fight?"

"Not bad, you’ve got guts!"

The officer sized Chen An up and casually tossed him a heavy bow.

"This is a two-stone hard bow."

He usually didn’t pull it fully—it was too strenuous.

This kid looked soft-skinned; even drawing the bow would be tough.

As the soldiers mocked the young recruit, what happened next caught everyone by surprise.

Chen An gripped the bow with one hand and suddenly drew the string taut.

The once tense bowstring became perfectly curved.

At that moment, a wild goose flew across the sky.

Chen An kicked the ground fiercely and leapt into the air.

Twang!

The bowstring snapped.

To everyone’s astonishment, the wild goose fell from the sky.

"What the hell!"

"Incredible!"

"How’s that even possible!"

The soldiers exclaimed in shock.

The recruiting officer gaped, mouth wide open, as if he could swallow an egg whole.

To achieve such a feat, one had to be born with extraordinary talent.

A natural-born warrior’s strength.