The Wuda man was named Long Bu.

Lu Zhuo could recognize him because Lu Zhuo had a good memory, and Long Bu could recognize Lu Zhuo at the bottom of the cliff because Lu Zhuo had an unforgettable handsome face. Moreover, when Lu Zhuo and his wife had paid for his daughter’s medical treatment years ago, Long Bu had already learned Lu Zhuo’s identity. During this battle between the two armies, Long Bu also knew that the enemy commander was precisely Lu Zhuo.

Long Bu was born and raised in Wuda. He had to protect his tribe’s grasslands and fight alongside his people. He could kill Shenwu Army soldiers without blinking, but facing Lu Zhuo, who had fallen from the cliff and was barely breathing – the benefactor who had saved his daughter, Long Bu, couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Perhaps Heaven had arranged for him to find Lu Zhuo first so that he would save him.

Several Wuda soldiers who had been pursuing Lu Zhuo had also fallen from the cliff, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. Long Bu picked the one whose build most resembled Lu Zhuo’s and switched their armor. Lu Zhuo was from an aristocratic family and didn’t have such rough hands and feet. To make the substitution seamless, Long Bu gripped that Wuda man’s hands and feet and rubbed them against rocks repeatedly until they were as bloody and mangled as his crushed face.

The real Lu Zhuo, after falling from the cliff, had used swords and cliff vegetation to cushion his fall. His body was covered with many small wounds, and he had been knocked unconscious, but his life was preserved. However, Lu Zhuo’s face was too handsome, so Long Bu had to slash Lu Zhuo’s face with a knife and beat his eyes and face until they swelled, so as not to arouse suspicion from other Wuda soldiers.

Long Bu indeed knew an orphan named A’Gula, but that A’Gula was already dead, so Long Bu gave Lu Zhuo A’Gula’s identity.

Lu Zhuo had numerous external injuries and remained unconscious. The military doctor gave up treating him entirely. Fortunately, Long Bu had also injured his leg and didn’t need to continue campaigning, allowing him to stay by Lu Zhuo’s side, caring for him continuously until the war ended, and he could naturally bring the unconscious Lu Zhuo home.

Bao Ya went to help her mother clean up the dishes, and the two boys were outside practicing wrestling. Long Bu sat beside Lu Zhuo, quietly explaining the situation of the past few months: “Whether Wuda soldiers or Great Qi soldiers, they all think you’re dead. This is good – otherwise it would be very dangerous for you to stay with my family.”

Lu Zhuo understood, but he couldn’t imagine how devastated Wei Rao and his family would be.

“What’s wrong with my legs?” Lu Zhuo tried to move his legs, but couldn’t feel their existence.

Long Bu pinched his legs, frowning: “Can’t move them? Tomorrow I’ll ask the tribal doctor to examine you.”

Since Lu Zhuo had been unconscious the whole time, he didn’t know what other problems Lu Zhuo had besides those wounds.

Lu Zhuo was silent for a moment, then asked Long Bu with a trace of hope if there was any news from Great Qi.

Long Bu was just an ordinary soldier in Wuda. He didn’t even know that Lu Zhuo’s wife had come to the grasslands. He only knew that the Eighth Prince had been captured by Great Qi, the Khan had sued for peace, and they had used that corpse impersonating Lu Zhuo to exchange for the Eighth Prince’s intact body. After that, the war ended, and Long Bu returned to his tribe. The execution of the nine clans of Marquis Xiting’s Han family had caused a huge sensation in the capital, but Long Bu knew nothing about it.

He shook his head at Lu Zhuo.

Lu Zhuo smiled bitterly.

Long Bu gave him some more instructions about various trivial matters, all about how to maintain a consistent story to hide his identity. After speaking, Long Bu went to accompany his wife.

Night fell, and Long Bu’s two sons entered the felt tent. The brothers, one fourteen and one eleven, were simple and cheerful, surrounding Lu Zhuo with questions. Later, when they got tired, they went to sleep.

Lu Zhuo lay on his back, thinking of Wei Rao, thinking of A’Bao, thinking of his family, unable to sleep all night.

The next day, Long Bu brought the tribal doctor to examine Lu Zhuo’s legs.

There was nothing wrong with Lu Zhuo’s legs, and his spine wasn’t injured either. The gray-haired old tribal doctor almost felt every bone in Lu Zhuo’s body but found no problems.

“Just let him recover. Perhaps he’ll be better in a few days, perhaps he won’t get better – it depends on fate,” the old tribal doctor said with a calm expression that had seen through life and death.

Lu Zhuo showed no expression.

Long Bu both sympathized with Lu Zhuo’s situation and was shocked at how quickly Lu Zhuo’s arms recovered their pale color. So pale – not like a Wuda person at all. From today on, he would move Lu Zhuo outside to bask in the sun – the darker and rougher, the better.

After the old tribal doctor left, when they were alone, Lu Zhuo asked Long Bu if he could send him back to the border pass.

Long Bu sighed: “Our tribe was originally close to Great Qi, where the water and soil are fertile, the grass is good, and cattle and sheep grow well. Later, after I brought Bao Ya for medical treatment, shortly after we returned, our tribal chief offended the royal family, implicating our entire tribe in being exiled to this northern cold land. If I were to send you back, the thousand-mile journey would encounter many checkpoints and interrogations. For the sake of my wife and children, I can’t take that risk.”

Lu Zhuo understood.

Long Bu comforted him: “Don’t be anxious. First, recover from your injuries. Maybe your legs will heal, and then you can leave on your own or stay here. If merchants happen to pass by, perhaps we can arrange for them to send you back.”

Lu Zhuo didn’t want to wait, but with his legs immobile, he was like a useless person. Besides waiting, he was helpless.

Seeing that Lu Zhuo’s emotions had stabilized, Long Bu called over one of his sons to move Lu Zhuo’s bed outside so he could bask in the sun.

The Wuda had a saying that the more men basked in the sun, the stronger they became. So to maintain “A’Gula’s” strength, he arranged for Lu Zhuo to sun himself, which didn’t arouse the tribe’s suspicion.

Being outside, Lu Zhuo finally saw the grassland environment where Long Bu and his people lived.

As a border military general, Lu Zhuo was more familiar with Wuda’s maps than with Great Qi’s.

In Wuda’s northernmost territory was a vast lake called the North Sea. At this moment, the North Sea and the surrounding snow-capped mountains were right before his eyes.

The vast heaven and earth made him seem as insignificant as grass.

“Uncle, are you cold?”

A light voice came from behind. Lu Zhuo turned around to see Bao Ya with many small braids. The seven-year-old girl had a face tanned yellow-red from the sun, but her pair of dark eyes were clearer than the blue sky and lake water.

Bao Ya held an old blanket in her hands, wanting to cover Uncle A’Gula’s legs. She hadn’t expected that just calling him “Uncle” would make Uncle A’Gula look at her and suddenly shed two streams of tears.

Was the wind too strong?

In the first year of Lu Zhuo’s awakening at the North Sea, he lived in a daze. Long Bu made him a wheelchair so he could push himself wherever he wanted to go.

Lu Zhuo’s face had tanned dark, and his long hair had become coarse and dry from neglect. He didn’t comb it, appearing disheveled before people every day. Although the scar on his face grew fainter and was hardly noticeable from a distance, in his current state, not only would enemy Wuda generals who had barely seen him a few times not recognize him, but even people from Duke Ying Mansion wouldn’t recognize him if they saw him.

Lu Zhuo was so dejected that while Long Bu sympathized, he was also relieved. At least no one recognized Lu Zhuo, so he and his family were safe.

In the second year of Lu Zhuo’s life at the North Sea, his beard had grown longer, his hair more disheveled, and his legs still couldn’t move.

However, Lu Zhuo was no longer silent and withdrawn. He would offer guidance when Long Bu taught his two sons martial arts, he would teach Bao Ya how to make traps to place in the forest near the North Sea to catch prey, he would smile when he saw wildflowers blooming on the grassland, and he would gaze at merchants who might be passing by when camel bells sounded in the distance.

Unfortunately, they were all Wuda merchants heading to even more northern territories – no Great Qi traders.

In the summer of Lu Zhuo’s third year living at the North Sea, Long Bu’s eldest son fell in love with a girl who lived in another tribe dozens of miles away.

According to Wuda wedding customs, the groom’s entire family would first go to the bride’s family to drink and feast, staying overnight. The next day, if the bride was satisfied with the groom, she would follow the groom back to his tribe.

Long Bu wanted to bring Lu Zhuo along. Afraid Lu Zhuo wouldn’t agree, he had his eldest son invite Lu Zhuo.

The seventeen-year-old young man was full of joy at the prospect of marrying the girl he loved. Seeing the spirit in the young man’s eyes, Lu Zhuo agreed.

Early the next morning, the whole family set out. Bao Ya and her mother accompanied Lu Zhuo in the horse cart while Long Bu and his three sons rode horses.

The horse cart traveled across the grassland, along the North Sea, toward another tribe.

Halfway through the journey, Lu Zhuo saw a dilapidated felt tent in the distance. A disheveled man emerged from the tent, and surprisingly, there were shackles around his ankles. The man turned his back on them, drove a flock of sheep from the pen, and slowly went to herd them. Another limping old man then came out, yawned, and slowly followed him.

Lu Zhuo looked curiously at the man with shackles on his feet.

Seeing him staring in that direction, Bao Ya explained: “This man was already here when we migrated over. I heard he angered the Great Khan but refused to admit his mistake, so the Great Khan punished him by sending him here to herd sheep. When he’s willing to admit his mistake, they’ll bring him back.”

Bao Ya’s mother was driving the cart. Hearing her daughter’s voice, she added: “He’s a man with backbone. It seems he’s been exiled here for over twenty years.”

Bao Ya’s eldest brother said, “The Great Khan is heartless. If someone made a mistake, just kill him directly. Why punish him like this? If it were me, I’d rather die than suffer this living torture.”

The Wuda people yearned for freedom, like eagles in the sky. If their wings were broken, they’d rather die.

Lu Zhuo seemed not to hear their discussion, continuously watching the sheep-herding man.

He had no shackles on his feet, yet like that man, he couldn’t go anywhere.

He was no longer dejected because he still held hope, still wanted to return to his familiar homeland and see the people he thought of day and night. What was this man being punished by the Khan for?

Long Bu’s eldest daughter-in-law was a lively and cheerful girl. That evening, everyone sang and danced around the bonfire, turning even this bitter cold frontier into a sacred place on earth.

After one night, the bride was very satisfied with the groom. Long Bu’s family ate breakfast at the in-laws’ house and then set off on the return journey.

Sitting in the horse cart, Lu Zhuo saw that man again. This time he saw the man’s front face. The wind blew head-on, making the man’s disheveled hair fly back, revealing a resolute, weathered face. Although he had a messy beard, Lu Zhuo could see his features…

His voice caught in his throat, but Lu Zhuo’s body uncontrollably lunged toward the other person. By the time Bao Ya cried out in alarm, Lu Zhuo had already fallen from the cart and tumbled to the ground.

Long Bu and his three sons quickly jumped off their horses and helped Lu Zhuo up.

Lu Zhuo closed his eyes, his face flushed red as if enduring some tremendous pain, but his mind was in tremendous upheaval.

It was said this man had been exiled to the North Sea for over twenty years.

And his father, Lu Mu, had died in battle when he was eight years old, his remains incomplete. Twenty-two years had now passed.

“A’Gula, are you all right?” Noticing blood at the corner of Lu Zhuo’s mouth, Long Bu asked worriedly.

Lu Zhuo shook his head, instinctively trying to push Long Bu away and stand on his own. But when his hands gripped Long Bu and he felt the long-lost sensation from his feet, Lu Zhuo gripped Long Bu’s arm tightly, suppressing that surge of wild joy.

“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment,” Lu Zhuo smiled, concealing his abnormality, and still let Long Bu and his son carry him back to the horse cart.