The Boy in the Wheelchair

Changsun had pondered for a long time. Before her, Qing Ling and Sword Enshrined had also knelt for a long time.

"Qing Ling, prepare brush and ink."

After a long while, Changsun sighed softly and spoke.

"Yes."

Qing Ling rose, swiftly fetched the brush and ink, and placed them on the desk beside Changsun.

Changsun quickly wrote two letters, folded them, and handed them to Qing Ling, her expression solemn as she said:

"Send one letter to the Marquis Kaixuan Residence. Place the other on Ning Chen and deliver him to the Headmaster of Tiancang Academy."

Qing Ling accepted the letters and immediately went out to make the arrangements.

Sword Enshrined kowtowed in thanks. A trace of relief flashed across his exhausted face. If that person was willing to act, then Ning Chen could be saved.

After the two left, Changsun looked at Ning Chen before her, her eyes filled with complicated emotions. No matter what, you won twenty thousand warhorses for Great Xia. Your faults could not outweigh your merits. This palace shall help you one more time.

A moment later, Qing Ling returned, took Ning Chen away, and then left the palace.

Not long after Qing Ling departed, an urgent order arrived from the north, causing Changsun's expression to change dramatically.

The Northern Mongol Royal Court had sent out its troops!

This was a heaven-shaking matter. The peace maintained for nearly twenty years had finally been shattered.

However, the one leading the troops this time was no longer the Northern Mongol marshal of old, but a woman named Fan Lingyue.

How could the Northern Mongol Royal Court, with its bold customs and worship of the strong, allow a woman to lead its army? This left many in Great Xia baffled.

Yet Changsun, who had been watching the changes in the Northern Mongol Royal Court over recent years, knew very clearly just how terrifying this woman called Fan Lingyue was.

This time, Great Xia had truly encountered its most powerful opponent.

With the Northern Martial Marquis stationed at the northern border, there should not be any immediate problem. But the Northern Mongol Royal Court was coming with such ferocity this time that it would surely be exceedingly difficult to resist.

Faraway Northern Zhangyuan. Fan Lingyue sat before the army, watching one war machine after another slowly advance. A faint sorrow passed over her beautiful yet pallid face.

Cough, cough.

The cold wind brushed past. Fan Lingyue covered her mouth and coughed several times. Seeing the faint crimson in her palm, she quietly concealed it without betraying a trace.

"Military Advisor, please take care of your health."

The young general who always accompanied Fan Lingyue revealed a worried expression and spoke.

"Mm."

Fan Lingyue nodded. She glanced toward the distant Great Xia Imperial City, sighed softly, then turned and walked toward the command tent.

What a pity. Great Xia's fortune had not yet reached its weakest point. However, the Martial Lord of the Eternal Night Divine Cult's First Divine Hall had already emerged from seclusion. The matter of sending troops could no longer be delayed. Most importantly, she did not have much time left...

Her homeland had such scarce resources. Most of its people had lived in poverty year after year. If she wanted to solve this problem, there was only one path: invasion. Invade everything.

The marshal of the Northern Mongol Royal Court was already old, while the current king was still young and weak by nature. She could only lead the troops herself and help the Northern Mongol Royal Court seize as vast a dynasty as possible.

And Great Xia was the greatest obstacle standing in her path. She had no other choice.

The only regret was that several hidden chess pieces she had laid down earlier had been disrupted. Otherwise, the present situation would have been even more favorable for the Northern Mongol Royal Court.

That little eunuch named Ning Chen had appeared too suddenly, too strangely. No matter what, he had to be eliminated.

What she hated most in this life was variables!

"How are Qing Wuyou's negotiations with the Eternal Night Divine Cult progressing?"

Before the tent, Fan Lingyue paused and asked softly.

"Night Martial Lord has agreed to provide ten thousand sets of Divine Hall heavy armor, but he has set a condition. The original twenty thousand warhorses must be increased to thirty thousand," the young general answered respectfully.

"Trade. Tell Qing Wuyou not to waste any more time. Have the heavy armor transported back as quickly as possible."

Fan Lingyue narrowed her eyes slightly and spoke softly. The Northern Mongol Royal Court lacked nothing less than horses. Compared to that, ten thousand sets of Divine Hall heavy armor would be far more useful in her hands.

She was not worried about the Eternal Night Divine Cult growing too powerful. To seek a tiger's skin, one had to possess the courage to pull teeth from a tiger's mouth. At present, both sides' greatest enemy was Great Xia. The Northern Mongol Royal Court and the Eternal Night Divine Cult were still far from clashing in the short term.

"Yes." The young general nodded, then watched Fan Lingyue enter the tent.

No one was permitted to enter the Military Advisor's tent without being summoned or unless there was an exceedingly important matter. That was the rule, a rule established by the Military Advisor herself.

From within the military tent came the occasional sound of coughing, faint, yet so distinctly clear.

As the Northern Mongol Royal Court sent out its troops, the Eternal Night First Divine Hall stood atop towering stone steps in the west of Great Xia. The desolation of before had long vanished, replaced by one majestic side hall after another.

After the restrictions were lifted, the Eternal Night First Divine Hall, which had once shaken the world, reappeared in the mortal realm. Without doubt, it would bring the most violent changes to the structure of the world.

Within the First Divine Hall, guarded by the surrounding halls, a tall figure sat upon a throne. His gaze, looking down upon the world, fixed on the distance, and his powerful aura twisted even the surrounding space.

This was the strongest person in the world, the Hall Master of the Eternal Night Divine Cult's First Divine Hall, a formidable existence who had surpassed the limits of the Houtian realm.

In an ancient city not far away, a man in blood-red robes whose age could not be discerned opened his eyes at the same time. He looked westward, his expression gradually turning solemn.

He knew that the Eternal Night Divine Cult's Martial Lord was about to march to war.

The Martial Lords of the Eternal Night Divine Cult had always been valiant and battle-hungry. Once one emerged from seclusion, war would surely rise.

Blood-clothed Marquis rose, summoned his deputy general, gave several instructions, then went alone to the front of the city and quietly awaited the outbreak of war.

Great Xia's Martial Marquises existed precisely for war.

Within the Great Xia Imperial Palace, secret reports arrived at the Heavenly Edict Hall one after another. Seated upon the dragon throne, the Xia Emperor's face was as deep and still as water. As he read each secret report, icy brilliance flickered continuously in his eyes.

The war had not officially begun, yet the scent of war had already rapidly spread through the Great Xia Imperial City. In just three days, scout riders had arrived one after another from the west and the northern border. Together with other covert methods of communication, they provided detailed reports of the situation at the front lines.

The common people of the imperial city were not overly panicked. Great Xia had flourished for a thousand years and remained invincible for a thousand years. This had fostered an indescribable confidence within its people. From the depths of their hearts, they unhesitatingly believed that Great Xia would not lose.

Whether that confidence was good or bad, at the very least it allowed the soldiers maintaining order in the imperial city to breathe a sigh of relief.

The common people continued living as usual. At most, they had a few more topics to discuss after tea and meals.

Of course, the marvelous tale of the little eunuch named Heroic from the palace bravely battling Zhenji Kingdom's envoy still occupied most of the storytellers' and tavern attendants' tales.

Because it was legendary, it was beloved. That was an eternal truth.

No one knew that the protagonist of their stories had already taken a trip down Yellow Springs Road, only to be saved in the end by the even more legendary Headmaster of Tiancang Academy.

However, though his life had been saved, Ning Chen's legs had been too severely injured. Their meridians were ruined, and the bones in his legs had been shattered. Ning Chen was crippled.

Whether he could accept it or not, it had become a fact. Thus, Tiancang Academy gained a young man who often sat in a wheelchair, staring blankly into space.

The academy did not keep idle hands. Ning Chen had only barely entered through the back door under the pretext of being an exceedingly distant relative of the Marquis Kaixuan Residence, so he naturally had even fewer privileges.

Thus, the academy assigned him the only job he could currently do: chopping firewood!

Most students in the academy were children of aristocratic families. Even the least impressive entered bearing the title of a genius seen only once in ten years. Talents gathered like clouds, and geniuses filled the streets. Among such a group, Ning Chen was naturally the least conspicuous.

The Marquis Kaixuan Residence was renowned, but Ning Chen's clearly unrelated kinship meant that he was destined to benefit little from the God of War's prestige.

Changsun had thought the same, so she had not planned to give Ning Chen any particularly dazzling identity.

As for the Headmaster who had treated Ning Chen's injuries, he had already vanished by the time Ning Chen awoke. All the remaining arrangements were made by a middle-aged man.

It was obvious that this middle-aged man thought little of Ning Chen, though he did not deliberately make things difficult for him. After assigning him work, he left.

As time passed, Ning Chen became a very unusual presence in the academy. He was neither a student nor a teacher.

Simply put, he was a handyman free to enter and leave the academy.

Ever since his legs were crippled, Ning Chen had grown silent. His former smile was never seen again. Many times, he would sit there in a daze for an entire shichen.

During his days at the academy, he did nothing but chop firewood and cultivate every day. He rarely spoke. After enough time passed, the academy students even thought he was mute.

Chopping firewood was a monotonous task. Ning Chen had a foundation in martial arts, so he found it easier than most. As he chopped, every stroke of his blade split out two pieces of firewood nearly identical in size.

Days passed one after another. One chopping blade after another became dull. He neither spoke nor uttered a word, his demeanor silent. The academy's people grew accustomed to having such an odd person around and no longer found him strange.

The academy was actually very large. The place where Ning Chen stayed was its quietest corner, with few students and far less trouble.

The academy had several teachers and one Master. The Master was old, rarely taught, and few people went to listen.

Yet Ning Chen liked the Master's lessons. He attended every one and listened with great attention.

The Master was an old man even quieter than Ning Chen, with white beard and white hair. He was truly very old. It took him a long time to finish a lesson, so the young students lacked the patience to listen.

The Master was profoundly learned, skilled in poetry, books, rites, and the Book of Changes. In the Master's own words, one who lived long naturally knew rather more.

Since his legs had been crippled, Ning Chen had slowed down as well. He moved slowly and learned slowly. Therefore, he liked the Master, who was equally slow.

Sometimes, the Master would spend an entire day finishing a single lesson. Once everyone else had left and only Ning Chen remained in the crude classroom, the Master would still slowly finish teaching the lesson.

At night, Ning Chen returned and chopped the firewood he had not chopped during the day. With the remaining time, he either cultivated or slept. It was very simple; there was nothing else to do.

That autumn, Great Xia issued a new calendar, recording the beginning of the war.

In the autumn of the first year of the new calendar, the Northern Mongol Royal Court raised its army, deploying three hundred thousand troops at Northern Zhangyuan in preparation for a massive assault on Great Xia.

However, a heavy snowfall that arrived more than a month early changed everything, delaying the coming war by a full four months.

It was a sudden snowstorm that no one had anticipated. The Great Xia Imperial Astronomical Bureau had not anticipated it, nor had Fan Lingyue of the Northern Mongol Royal Court. It came so abruptly that it forcefully threw everyone's plans into disarray.

It snowed at the academy as well. It might not have meant much to others, but for Ning Chen, it was a great inconvenience. A wheelchair was difficult to move through snow, so he became even slower.

Later, he discovered that the Master had slowed down as well. The snow was heavy, and the Master was very old. Whether class began or ended, he was much later than before. By coincidence, the two of them fell into the same rhythm once more.

The only thing Ning Chen had not expected was that after his legs were crippled, his cultivation had instead progressed faster than before. In two months, he had already reached Houtian Fourth Rank.

Of course, this was not a price he had wanted to pay.

Moreover, whenever it snowed, his legs hurt terribly. Pain that drilled into his heart, pain that seeped into his bones, pain that made one wish for death and life at once.

From that day onward, Ning Chen began to dislike snow.

Yet things went against his wishes. The snow showed no sign of stopping. It fell on and off for more than a month, and the skies still had not cleared.

Amid the wind and snow filling the heavens, the academy's annual year-end assessment arrived.

Ning Chen was not a student and did not need to be assessed, yet a teacher seized him as free labor.

The Master was old, so naturally he could not be made to proctor examinations. Thus, Ning Chen was pulled in to proctor the Master's course.

Moreover, this had been the Master's request.

Ning Chen thereby became the first acting teacher to proctor an examination since the academy's founding.

Fortunately, there were not many students who chose to attend the Master's course, so proctoring did not seem too difficult...

(P.S. The first volume officially ends here. The main storyline and the protagonist's growth are about to fully begin. Back to writing, and while I'm at it, a roar for bookmarks!!!)