General Nage was often embarrassed to use his title. In the old days, he'd been called "Great Head" or simply by his given name—a familiar, casual way of addressing him that made drinking with his brothers especially enjoyable. But one word from the young lady had forced him to rise several ranks at once, from Great Head of Iron Mountain to General of Iron Mountain.
Whenever guests came to visit, the young lady would proudly announce, "The Central Plains has its generals, and Iron Mountain has one too. Just look at him—what a commanding figure!"
At such times, Nage had to strut before the guests like a summoned peacock, chest out and head held high, showing off his ostentatious gilded armor. The excessively long feathers on his helmet often got in his way when he entered or left a tent.
His brothers made fun of him, but they each had titles like "general" or "commandant," so they were all in the same boat. Nage dreaded receiving people from the Central Plains most of all. Those fellows would always laugh heartily without passing judgment, which only made him blush even more.
Pang Jing, the Western Regions Protectorate Official, was an exception. The moment he entered the military camp and saw Nage striding toward him, he stopped and called out, "What a fine General of Iron Mountain! Don't stand too close to me. Compared to you, I'm ashamed of myself!"
Nage was nearly fifty. His most notable feature was his height. When Great Head God was still alive, it hadn't stood out much. Now, wherever he went, he towered over everyone else. In fact, his height was one of the main reasons both father and daughter had appointed him their deputy in turn—and, to Luo Ningcha, it mattered even more.
For all