Chapter 6

16

recently.

Kliger remained asleep, dreaming all day long.

I dreamt of his childhood.

An endless snowfield, a greyish-white sky, and houses built from locally sourced stones, dug into the ground, disguised as the surface of the rock formations. At night, the bright white moon illuminates the vast, desolate plains.

He and his mother went on exile.

Like a grass rabbit that lives in the crevices of rocks, he is easily startled. Every now and then, whenever he smells danger or the food nearby is eaten up, he takes his mother to a different place.

Looking back now, it was incredibly tough.

They were not enough to eat or wear.

But as a child, he lived like an animal—stubborn, ignorant, following his survival instincts: eating, foraging, working, sleeping, and repeating the same routine the next day.

He has a home, a mother, and enough to eat; he can live contentedly.

By the time he was around ten years old, he had learned to vaguely judge war without any formal instruction.

Once he sees two armies appear, and knows the types of troops, numbers, supplies, status, general direction and speed of both sides, and is familiar with the surrounding area, he can judge where the two will fight next, who will win and who will lose, with unparalleled accuracy.

Wait quietly for two days, until the war drums and smoke signals have stopped, and then a large number of fresh corpses will "grow" in that place.

Then he could happily run off and be the first to plunder the relics, ahead of everyone else.

From a distance, from the high ground, they appear scattered or crowded together, resembling some kind of ripe, mushy fruit that has fallen to the ground, its juice overflowing, surrounding withered grass and decaying trees, and spreading a putrid smell of horse manure, wildflowers, blood, and sweat.

Clothes, shoes, money, weapons for self-defense... his acquisition and understanding of the world began from this point.

This is a good business.

The dead are kind; they will not insult or bully people, nor will they ever find excuses to withhold money.

When he was extremely hungry, he even considered eating corpses.

He saw others doing this.

His mother slapped him hard, and then gave up.

That day, he spent a long time rummaging through the pile of corpses early in the morning, but to no avail. He went home to cook, only to find that the food was almost gone and he needed to buy more. Then he discovered that his piggy bank was empty.

He wanted to ask his mother.

Upon entering, one immediately notices that another piece of rouge and jewelry has been added to the only valuable woven carpet in the house.

It is a bottle of flower essential oil.

My mother was a woman who, even if she was starving, would live elegantly, always impeccably dressed and impeccably beautiful.

If she had any money, she would rather buy ribbons than exchange them for millet.

Little Krieg remained silent.

He picked up a basket and a stone hoe and went out to dig for wild vegetables.

His mother admonished him to be mindful of manners.

He was forbidden to steal; he was forbidden to beg; he was even forbidden to accept charity from others.

Once, a passing man in a gray coat gave him bread.

The man called himself a "priest" and said he was the spokesperson of the God of Light on earth.

Who is the God of Light?

"He is the greatest being, omnipotent and omniscient."

Little Krieg pondered for a long time and asked:

"Then can you tell me why I'm alive?"

The priest answered gently, “Everyone has a purpose in life, a mission assigned by God, and things that must be accomplished.”

What is it that he needs to do?

Taking care of your mother?

My mother often said that he lived only to torment her.

He is a filthy piece of evidence, and he has made her homeless.

She will hit him.

He never fought back.

But occasionally, when she wasn't acting crazy, she was also a gentle and beautiful mother. Back then, he was even younger, and his mother would hold him in her arms and sing lullabies, affectionately calling him "little bastard."

"You little bastard, you little bastard."

She lifted the infant child high, tossed him up, caught him, tossed him up, caught him again, and so on.

They both chuckled.

For a long time during his childhood, young Krieg thought "bastard" was a good word.

When other children asked him his name, he answered in this way, which caused a burst of laughter.

He had no name before he met Solan.

He is a dirty speck of dust in this world.

When he was little, he loved to lie in a warm nest made of rags and animal skins and listen to his mother tell stories about how she used to be a princess.

Whenever these things are mentioned, Mom's expression softens and becomes calm, with a smile in her eyes and brows.

She said haughtily, "What is the God of Light? A lowly scoundrel who sprang up from who-knows-where—he even takes in slave believers—I am a descendant of the saints."

Especially later, as her condition worsened, her mother would talk incoherently, over and over again.

She lay on the bed, sobbing incessantly, “...a true princess should be buried in a golden coffin.”

That day.

He dug until his fingernails bled, and finally returned home at sunset with a basket of wild vegetables.

His mother lay on her side, motionless, just as she had when he left home.

A fly landed on her half-open, dull pupils.

She died.

"General! General!!"

"Wake up, General Krieg!"

The shaking pulled Krieg from his dream.

Someone told him that this morning, patrolling soldiers discovered a tomb robber's hole in the royal tomb.

Krieg immediately stood up.

He had lost a lot of weight, as if he had not recovered from a serious illness, and his steps were unsteady.

He went outside, looked around in a daze, and asked, "Where's my horse?"

The subordinate said awkwardly, "Have you forgotten, General? Your warhorse has already been borrowed by Lord Moody."

17

"You mean—after Krieg sealed up the tomb robber's hole, he simply lived in the royal mausoleum and slept in front of the grave every day? Why didn't he just move into the tomb?"

"Haha, he's really insane beyond saving."

"King Solan is the same. Why rely on him? That guy can't even handle something as simple as guarding the tomb!"

The person speaking laughed heartily.

He is Wang Zhengjun's current chief general: Modi.

He was riding high on his success and was extremely arrogant.

Back when Solan was still in power, he was just an insignificant junior officer.

No matter how much he tried to please him, the king simply ignored him.

If Solan hadn't died...

If it weren't for Krieg's madness...

He might never get that position.

Seeing the former war demon reduced to a stray dog, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction, as if his great revenge had been achieved.

He drank fine wine and indulged in pleasure with his concubines.

At this moment, the servant reported.

The current regent, Flynn, issued an order.

He was instructed to allocate manpower to suppress the restless slaves who were on the verge of mutiny.

He slammed his wine glass onto the table.

Ha, a coward who doesn't even dare to ascend the throne, yet you dare to treat him like a dog?

—Does he really think he's Solan?

The Central Army barracks were stationed on the lakeside.

The two veteran cooks chatted as they cooked.

They sighed repeatedly, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, reminiscing about their time with Krieg.

"The weather was the same as today on the day my brother was cremated, and the general came to pay his respects in person."

“He remembers which battle my brother died in and where he was wounded.”

He remembered everyone who had fought alongside him.

“If there’s not enough food or water, just let us know, and he’ll tell us and figure something out. He always has a way. Even if we’re hungry sometimes, he’s hungry too. He eats from the same pot as us.”

"He will give us half of the spoils, to be divided equally according to our contributions."

"He was courteous to everyone, but when it came to fighting, he would stop when the point was reached. He never wanted to win or fight, and he would take lives unjustly."

"Although he is a half-demon and not a pure human, sometimes I feel that he is more like a standard human than anyone else."

The scenes of past battles seem vivid in my mind.

The general, clad in golden armor and a red cloak, spoke in a measured tone from the high platform:

"Those who disobey orders will be killed! Those who are afraid to fight will be killed! Those who fail to arrive on time will be killed! Those who embezzle provisions will be killed! Those who slaughter civilians will be killed! Those who rape women and children will be killed!"

"He was both awe-inspiring and fair."

"...If only he weren't insane."

The power-hungry eagle has no sense of shame.

They swarmed forward, eager to devour the hero's wounded body.

Even Cligor's warhorse has been taken away.

However, even after more than half a month, it is still unruly.

"Huff, huff—!"

Its wailing echoed throughout the entire military camp.

Anyone who hears this will feel sorry for them.

This is a steed of exceptional quality, one in a million. Its bones are as large as an ox's, its chest is broad and arched, its legs are strong, its stamina is superb, and it is also highly intelligent, able to understand human speech, and smarter than some slaves.

Moody took the horse, but every time he tried to ride it, he was thrown off balance.

"He's just a useless old horse anyway. What good is he? No matter how great his achievements were, that's all in the past. Even a new horse that hasn't seen the battlefield yet is better than him!"

Its mane, which was originally long and resilient like silk, was now frizzy and matted.

The outer skin was mottled and covered with scabs.

Moody whipped it countless times, but it never bowed its head.

They whispered:

"This horse probably won't live much longer..."

"It would be better to just kill it..."

"They want to torture it for their own amusement..."

No one noticed that, starting from some point, the white mist on the river surface grew thicker and thicker, like gauze, clinging low to the water's surface and spreading silently.

The opposite bank was completely shrouded in mist.

Amidst the noise, a wisp of music drifted into their ears.

Who is playing the bone flute?

“Woo-ee, woo-ee…”

The melody was rhythmic and enigmatic, flowing gently like ripples, arriving in a single line.

Suddenly, the horse turned its head and neighed.

It stood on its hind legs, pawing and thrashing about, struggling against the pulling force to raise its head. Even as the barbed iron bridle caused it to bleed profusely, it struggled and struggled! — Finally, it broke free and escaped!

Angri curses rang out.

Its footsteps echoed like cymbals as it sped off at full speed, pursued relentlessly, disappearing into the mist as it raced toward the lake.

The soldiers remaining at the camp couldn't see it clearly.

The only way to tell was by the sound of wild ducks, herons, and storks along the shore being startled and flapping their wings from the reeds... It ran further and further away.

Half a day later.

The men who had been chasing the horses returned, looking relieved, and muttered to themselves:

"That beast jumped into the lake as if it wanted to drown itself, and swam like a fish. Could it survive? It must have thought that it would rather die next to its master."

The soaking wet warhorse searched through the misty reeds.

After an unknown amount of time, she stopped, exhaled a happy breath, and lowered her neck to nuzzle the man's hand with her head.

The fog was still thick.

Solan wore a gray cloak, the soft felt draped into the shape of a triangular hat, covering his blond hair, and from his feet to his waist he seemed to be wrapped in a thick fog of white, tattered cotton.

The horse curiously examined the baby in his arms.

The little one is sleeping soundly.

Why does this unfamiliar little creature have the same scent as both of his owners, causing him to sniff it repeatedly?

Solan held the child in one arm and stroked it with the other.

"Old friend, my poor boy, you've suffered enough."

The horse blinked as if it understood, and tears streamed down its face.

It followed closely behind Solan.

"Let's go, I'll take you back to save your stupid master."

Solan said.