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Taking advantage of the two-day break, Fang Cheng started watching various war movies to further deepen his impression of war.

War, in a narrow sense, is a dispute between nations, based on the interests of states.

War may require a reason or it may not. However, a war without reason can take a century to erase its impact, and it is very likely to be retaliated in the name of vengeance.

In a broader sense, war encompasses more, including trade wars, individuals’ struggles against fate, civil wars… all of these are forms of war.

There are many entry points to war, such as civilians, soldiers, generals, strategists…

Heroes, Demon Kings, magicians…

Ordinary people, psychics, anti-psychics…

There are countless films and shows about war, and counting the broader definition of war, there are even more.

Beyond that, war is also an important theme in games, from real-time strategy to capture the flag, from role-playing to civilization simulation—war is a significant branch in gaming.

After watching for a long time, Fang Cheng still couldn’t grasp the interesting parts of war.

A single Palm Thunder…

Patting his head, he told himself to break away from the Immortal’s way of thinking and not to resolve everything with Palm Thunder.

After all, the skirmish with Sun Jue in the morning had proven that overwhelmingly one-sided battles were not interesting, so it would be better to have a battle that was evenly matched or even slightly disadvantaged.

Moreover, it was best to have a prototype, ideally a character from one’s own nation’s history, as this would make the game more realistic.

Having figured out how to get started, Fang Cheng left his room and stepped into the Cosmic Void, then walked towards the distance.

With each step, he traversed over a dozen light-years, eventually catching up with the light from a thousand years ago, witnessing the images of Earth as they were a thousand years past.

Light travels through the universe at the speed of light, so by reaching a position a thousand light-years away, one could capture the faint glow of history and see the images from a thousand years ago.

Fang Cheng thought this was quite simple, but for some reason, his contemporaries could never learn it.

Moving forward and backward through the light of time, Fang Cheng carefully observed the characters within the light, and finally chose one.

A character who was inconspicuous in history and hadn’t even been recorded.

After all, during that era, there were simply too many people like him.

He lived over eleven hundred years ago, during the final years of the dynasty when foreign tribes had severed the kingdom’s lands in half, a large expanse of territory falling to the west.

Due to the lack of communication in ancient times, many subjects of the dynasty never set foot on their homeland, only able to reminisce on the glory of the dynasty on this isolated land.

And this character was born here.

He carried the bloodline of the Han people, and their homeland had long been breached by the foreign tribes, himself being enslaved and driven by them.

The rule of the foreign tribes was simple and crude; a group of people were thrown into a desolate Gobi to farm and dig wells. Whenever the crops were harvested, the tribes would come and plunder the food, leaving only the necessary rations for them.

If they did not meet the quota, then the tribes would take their children as slaves for the city, where these people were likely to die in great numbers shortly after arriving at the cities of the tribes.

The protagonist, born in this place, never set foot on the dynasty’s land, and even his parents were born there, only knowing through the generations that the great eastern nation was their homeland, their home.

There, the people lived and worked in peace and contentment, and the generals guarded all directions.

There, children could dress warmly, eat their fill every day, the city’s water could be directly drawn from rivers, and the water from the wells was clear and sweet, without the slightest bitterness.

The crops in the fields yielded twice a year, the soldiers were kind, and after handing over a certain amount of food each year, the rest was theirs.

Once a disaster struck, the court would even allocate funds for disaster relief, unlike here, where they completely disregarded the life and death of these people.

Every time this subject came up, his parents would tell him, “We are not slaves; we have our own names. We are Han people; we have our own home.”

Even though he was young, the protagonist had already developed the desire to return, hoping to go back to his homeland, the Tang Dynasty.

However, a young slave couldn’t stir up any trouble and, barring any accidents, he would be exploited for his last bit of value like the others before dying here.

But an accident occurred.

A wounded Soldier appeared, fainting at his doorstep, and the protagonist hastily brought him inside and hid him.

That night, the barbarian soldiers searched the place thoroughly.

Outside the house, the hurried footsteps and curses were incessant, and the light of the fire outside the windows flickered, frightening people into forgetting to breathe.

Fortunately, the hiding spot left by his parents was concealed in such a way that it was impossible to find without knowing its location.

Only after the barbarian soldiers left did he bring the Soldier out.

The Soldier’s injuries weren’t serious; he had become separated from his troop in the Gobi, got lost, and finally collapsed here, exhausted and thirsty.

And it seemed the barbarian soldiers weren’t actually looking for this Soldier, as they had no idea he had been there.

As for the Soldier’s purpose, he didn’t tell the protagonist.

When the Soldier had rested, he began to teach the protagonist how to read and started imparting martial skills.

At night, when he was tired, he would tell the protagonist various kinds of knowledge, and what far-off Chang’an had to offer.

From him, the protagonist learned to read, to do arithmetic, how to draw a bow and shoot an arrow, and how to use a shield to block and then find the opponent’s weak spot to finish them with a sword.

Once the Soldier had recovered, he told the protagonist about the general location of their stronghold, and cautioned him,

“When you grow big enough and strong enough, capable of shooting birds out of the sky with your arrows and slicing falling leaves with your spear, then you can go to the stronghold and join us. Now, I must leave. If I do not return, please tie this lock of hair to the red willow in front of the stronghold. If you forge a way home, take me and my companions’ hair back to the Tang Dynasty.”

Afterward, he pulled out his own hair, handed the lock of hair to the protagonist, and then embarked on a journey sure to be his last.

The protagonist’s legend would not unfold until three years later.

After watching the protagonist’s life flash by, Fang Cheng was somewhat moved.

The protagonist’s life was full of setbacks and poignant moments, victories and failures.

He had once relied on a city wall, resisting the siege of hundreds of barbarians with just a spear and a bow.

He had also nearly died of malaria, vomiting and suffering diarrhea on the grasslands.

He fought in over a hundred battles throughout his life, his body covered in countless scars, flirting with death each time.

Only when facing his end did he arrive in Chang’an with his comrades’ hair and, a year later, passed away in this place he had longed for.

His life had little enjoyment; it was filled with war and the next war.

He was a hero, and his story deserved to be passed down.

Reaching out his hand, Fang Cheng captured the light that recorded the other’s life.

Next, it was time to pass the light on.