Chapter 21: Thankfully, I Have You All

What is an illegitimate son, really? In this era, it’s hardly any better than being a bastard, is it? The thought kept swirling in Wei Wuji’s mind. No wonder his father didn’t care about him—perhaps the man preferred not to see him at all.

Illegitimate sons rarely inherited the family estate, and Wei Wuji was no exception. Yet, even so, he and his mother had been targeted and persecuted. This infuriated him; it was nothing short of intolerable!

He had once hoped that after surrendering his military command, he could return and enjoy the privileges of a noble’s life. But now he saw that was nothing but wishful thinking. Those who sought his downfall wouldn’t let him go so easily. Even the heavy rank of Captain, which weighed upon him, was difficult to relinquish.

His mother had given up everything to secure this position for him. As long as Wei Wuji remained a man with a conscience, he had to fulfill his duty as Captain.

Now, all thoughts of seeking comfort and leisure had vanished from his mind. The urgency and tension that had once filled him during the heat of battle returned, settling once more in his heart. He was already embroiled in a war without smoke or fire, and even if he wanted to withdraw, there was no way out.

"Since ancient times, the homes of princes and lords have been rife with deception and betrayal, with kin tearing each other apart. Yet I still thought I could idle away my days? How naive," Wei Wuji mocked himself.

What cards did he have to play? Aside from the battered remnants of his troops, he had nothing. In the whole of Wei, his current power couldn’t stir even the smallest ripple.

Zheng Dali quietly slowed his horse, letting Wei Wuji ride ahead alone. He sensed the young lord needed solitude. Sometimes, Zheng Dali could be remarkably considerate.

The entire Wei army marched forward in silence. Unlike the oppressive weight pressing down on Wei Wuji’s shoulders, the ordinary soldiers were in good spirits. After all, they had repelled an attack by ten thousand Chen cavalrymen—a true triumph.

Many would gain wealth and status from this battle. Victory, reward, and homecoming—all three joys mingled together. One could imagine the elation among the Wei soldiers.

And all of this was thanks to the young man at the front, barely fifteen or sixteen years old. Yet, in the soldiers’ eyes, the boy’s figure seemed lonelier than ever.

They felt a moment of confusion—is this still the young lord who strategized so brilliantly and led them to victory? In their hearts, he should have been radiant, full of vigor and boldness. Even in the direst of circumstances, he had not yielded, but guided them to glory.

How could he appear so defeated now? The soldiers didn’t understand.

Perhaps the young lord is troubled by matters of state and war, they speculated.

At that moment, Wei Wuji was struggling to compose himself. He had to rally, if not for his own sake, then for his suffering mother in this life.

He shouted inwardly, "I must strive! One day, I’ll hold Wei in my hands. I can’t let the honor of a transmigrator be tarnished!"

"And besides, without effort, how will I ever enjoy a life of ease, do as I please, and fulfill my desires? How can I—" At this point, Wei Wuji paused.

"How can I give my mother a good life!" It was the first time he called her mother.

He’d always believed that uttering the word would feel awkward, having never spoken it before. Yet, as he said "mother" in his heart, a gentle warmth stirred—something he’d never felt.

It wasn’t vast like a river or sea, but it was solid, like tempered steel.

Now, giving his mother a good life had become his greatest ambition. The thought of vying for the throne seemed light as a feather by comparison.

But only by gaining greater status could he fulfill this goal, so ultimately, he could not avoid the struggle for power.

At last, he truly understood the pain of being swept along by fate—sometimes, one must force oneself down a path one would rather not tread.

"I’ll fight, then. What’s there to fear? I’m a transmigrator—how could I lose to a bunch of natives?" Wei Wuji encouraged himself.

He recalled scenes from dramas in his previous life, touting the virtue of achieving by not striving, and scoffed.

He was ready to roll up his sleeves and take matters into his own hands. What he won for himself would be more reliable.

The men in Wei’s camp—here I come! At last, he smiled; his life had a new purpose.

"Young lord!"

Just as he was feeling elated, he heard someone call from behind.

Turning, he saw dozens of Wei soldiers gazing at him expectantly.

What was this about? Was another misfortune coming his way? Wei Wuji wondered.

Just then, the soldiers spoke: "Young lord, it’s thanks to you that we made it home alive!"

"That’s right, you’re our savior!" another shouted.

"It was all due to you brothers risking your lives. I deserve little credit," Wei Wuji replied. He could play the grand noble in front of officers, but with common soldiers, he was approachable and friendly.

This attitude surprised the soldiers—having their young lord call them brothers was a great honor. When they grew old, these stories would be perfect fodder for boasting to their descendants.

Still, the soldiers protested, reluctant to accept such familiarity due to the vast gulf in status.

And besides, Wei Wuji’s performance these past days had been on par with renowned generals.

"Young lord, you saved us all—please accept our bow!" Their true purpose finally emerged.

In this era, the distinction between gratitude and resentment was clear—one always repaid a debt.

The soldiers knew they could never fully repay their debt, but they could at least thank Wei Wuji in person.

As they suddenly halted and knelt in the dust, Wei Wuji hurriedly pulled his reins.

"Get up, all of you!" Wei Wuji pleaded. What were they doing now?

To his surprise, the rest of the soldiers saw what was happening and followed suit, bowing and crying, "Thank you, young lord!"

Did he really possess such kingly charisma? Was he truly a failure, or would fate give him a sign? Wei Wuji cried inwardly.

Life was full of ups and downs—his fortunes shifted too rapidly. He felt utterly bewildered, riding into the wind.

"What are you all doing?" An officer who hadn’t seen what happened shouted angrily at his men.

They were on the march—why had the front stopped, blocking the road? Damn it, he thought, eager to return for his reward.

"Get up and move!" He grew angrier as the soldiers ignored him.

But still, no one responded; silence deepened.

At last, he looked ahead and saw, at the very front, Wei Wuji astride his horse.

The officer broke out in a cold sweat—he must have offended the young lord.

Recalling Wei Wuji’s unpredictable moods, he felt like crying; why had he been so rash?

"Young lord, your subordinate deserves punishment!" he stammered, kneeling.

Wei Wuji ignored him, telling the soldiers to rise.

After repeated requests, the men finally stood, resuming the march at his command.

But now, Wei Wuji was no longer lonely. He rode among the soldiers, chatting about home and family.

The warmth of this camaraderie filled him with a strange sense of satisfaction and peace.

"Wang Xiu, that officer from earlier is far too impulsive—he needs more experience," Wei Wuji whispered to his companion.

Wang Xiu, newly promoted to adjutant, responded at once, "You’re right, young lord. I’ll have him train among the ranks for a while."

"Good, that’ll do," Wei Wuji said with satisfaction. He was petty—how dare anyone interrupt his moment?

Yet, he still harbored a desire to assert his authority, determined to hold onto his hard-earned power.

Then, he returned to his approachable demeanor, blending back among the soldiers.

"Who says I have no influence? Even with just these men, I can stir up trouble," he thought, his fighting spirit rising.

Thank goodness for them! Wei Wuji was content with his loyal followers.