When the Mountain You Rely On Collapses, When the People You Rely On Run Away, Rely on Yourself!

Shen Le stood quietly at the entrance to the side room. The night wind whistled, piercing through his thin hemp mourning clothes and seeping into his bones.

At this moment, how wonderful it would have been to curl up inside a warm room—even a padded coat would have helped. Unfortunately, his knowledge of history ruthlessly told him:

Keep dreaming. Cotton was still sitting in XJ right now—in other words, on the territory of some nomadic tribe he had no idea about.

It would not be widely introduced into the interior until the Song Dynasty...

Of course, there was another way to keep warm: hurry back to the mourning hall, or take one quick step into the side room and huddle beside the brazier.

Unfortunately, with the clan facing such a grave crisis, Shen Le could neither retreat to the mourning hall nor rush to the brazier the instant he entered the side room, curling into a ball to warm himself.

On the contrary, he had to square his shoulders, raise his head, straighten his spine, and stand like a green pine or slender bamboo, staring straight at those opposite him without servility or arrogance.

One by one, his gaze met the eyes of the agitated, panicked, furious, and fearful clan elders.

Had he been the original sixteen-year-old boy, a face-to-face rebuke would have sent him retreating in terror. Yet Shen Le merely stood there and looked at them. Even without speaking, he carried an inexplicable, awe-inspiring air.

At first, the elders held their ground. Gradually, however, they were forced to lower their heads or awkwardly look away.

The side room remained silent for quite a while. Finally, the oldest great-uncle, who had spoken first, coughed uncomfortably.

"Third Son, we know your heart is in the right place. But you have