The military camp remained on high alert throughout the night, focused on the intruder rather than the missing child. Surprisingly, the boy reappeared outside Changfeng Camp the next morning.
He stood barefoot on the snow-covered ground, shirtless and wearing oversized, thin pants. A striking flame pattern on his chest seemed to radiate heat, as he showed no signs of shivering in the freezing conditions.
When soldiers approached, he simply said, “I want to see Li Shuang.”
At that time, Li Shuang was conducting a war simulation meeting with her deputies, partly to educate Li Ting and partly to prepare for potential winter conflicts with the Western Rong.
The soldiers brought the child to her. Everyone was shocked by his scant clothing, except for Luo Teng, who angrily slammed the table. “You little bastard! Come and go as you please. Do you think our camp is an inn?” He turned to Li Shuang, “General, this disrespectful brat should be torn apart and fed to the dogs!”
Li Shuang observed the child, her fingers tapping the table. “Why return after running away last night?”
The boy gazed at her with clear eyes. “I wanted to see you,” he said frankly. “The further I went, the more I wanted to see you.”
His bold words surprised the hardened generals. Li Shuang, known for her fierce reputation, found his directness intriguing. “Oh? Am I special?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “You’re very special.”
So special that he couldn’t control himself…
“What should we do?” Li Shuang asked with a hint of amusement. “I took you in out of pity yesterday, but you ran away. Now you’ve returned of your own will. Changfeng Camp doesn’t keep useless people. What skills do you have? Why should I let you stay?”
“I can be your soldier.”
“A soldier?” Luo Teng scoffed. “Our youngest recruit is much older than you. What can a pipsqueak like you do?”
The boy finally looked at Luo Teng directly. “I could kill you.”
His words carried a chilling intent, his eyes like those of a wild wolf. All the generals tensed, sensing the authenticity of his threat.
Luo Teng, embarrassed at being intimidated by a child, bellowed, “Fine! Come on then! I’ll tear you apart myself, you arrogant brat!”
“Luo Teng!” Qin Lan’s sharp reprimand and Li Shuang’s glance made Luo Teng reluctantly back down.
Li Shuang turned to the boy, noticing his killing intent subside under her gaze. “Have you trained in martial arts?” she asked.
The child hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”
After a moment’s thought, Li Shuang said, “Yesterday, I offered to help you find your family or a new home in Luchen. I won’t recruit you as a soldier; you’re too young. Our Great Jin Dynasty doesn’t use children to defend the nation.”
Sensing he was about to be sent away, the boy grew anxious. “I… don’t remember my past or my name, but I know I’m not as weak as you think…”
As Li Shuang considered this, Li Ting eagerly interjected, “Sister, let me test his skills! If he beats me, he can stay. If not, we’ll send him to a family in Luchen. How about that?”
Li Ting, trained in martial arts from a young age, was considered skilled among the capital’s young nobles. His father had sent him to the frontier partly to temper his character.
Li Shuang, noting the boy’s mysterious mark and wolf-like eyes, realized he might be too dangerous for an ordinary family. Keeping him in the camp under her supervision could potentially shape him into a valuable asset.
“Alright,” she agreed. “A friendly match, no serious injuries.”
Qin Lan noticed Li Shuang directed this warning at the boy, already certain he would outmatch Li Ting despite their age difference.
The boy caught Li Shuang’s gaze and silently stepped back, focusing on Li Ting.
Li Ting enthusiastically prepared, donning protective gear and warming up. “Come on,” he said, taking a stance.
In a blink, the boy shot forward like an arrow. Before Li Ting could react, a powerful blow to his chest sent him sprawling at his servant’s feet.
The match ended faster than an eye could blink.
Li Ting coughed painfully, clutching his chest. His old steward, enraged, shouted, “How dare you attack the young master so viciously!”
The boy stood straight, small in stature but emanating a mountain-like presence.
Li Shuang waved dismissively, averting her gaze from the embarrassing scene. Li Ting, still coughing, tugged at his steward. “Stop, stop. It’s embarrassing.” He looked at the boy, then at Li Shuang. “Sister, he’s much stronger than me…”
Li Shuang nodded. “Go apply some medicine.” Raised in a military family, she showed little concern for her brother’s physical discomfort.
As Li Ting was escorted out, silence fell over the tent. The generals were astonished by the boy’s speed and power, recognizing that many of their soldiers and even some officers might not match his abilities.
“If you join our camp, you’ll be a soldier despite your age,” Li Shuang said. “Soldiers follow military law. Any mistakes will be punished accordingly. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go to the supply room to register your name. The Quartermaster will assign you quarters and provide clothing.”
The boy remained motionless. Puzzled, Li Shuang asked, “What’s wrong?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he looked at her. “I don’t know my name.”
His simple statement hung in the air.
Li Shuang and the boy silently locked eyes for a moment. Luo Teng interjected, “During wartime, many children didn’t know their names. It’s not a big deal. Just pick one. I think ‘Cow Dung Ball’ suits him well.” He waved dismissively, “Go on, Cow Dung Ball, get your clothes.”
Surprisingly, the boy didn’t react to the crude name and turned to leave.
Unable to bear it, Li Shuang intervened, “Let’s call him Jin’an.”
The boy paused and looked back at her.
Li Shuang, still in her red armor from the day she found him, stood tall yet graceful behind the table. “Jin’an,” she explained, “It means ‘long-lasting peace for our Great Jin Dynasty.’ Tell the quartermaster that’s your name.”
She had given him not just a name, but its meaning as well.
The boy accepted it as readily as he had “Cow Dung Ball,” leaving the tent. As the heavy curtain fell, he glanced back at Li Shuang one last time.
She sat down and began discussing matters with her generals.
Jin’an.
He silently repeated the name to himself, finding it pleasant, with a warm and comforting power.
As the boy’s footsteps faded, Qin Lan frowned concernedly, “General, this child’s background is unclear and suspicious. Yesterday, after his arrival, someone eavesdropped on your tent. Keeping him here might be…”
“It’s fine,” Li Shuang interrupted. “If someone sent him as a spy, it’s better to keep him in plain sight. Moreover, he’s a rare talent. If we can shape him, he’ll be a valuable asset to Changfeng Camp.”
Seeing her decision made, Qin Lan swallowed his concerns.
Jin’an received his clothes and was assigned to share a tent with other young boys. The others, already acquainted, felt uneasy about the newcomer. Jin’an’s reticence and his connection to the general led to some ostracism.
Jin’an’s bed was in the darkest corner of the tent. He simply dropped his new belongings on the bed and lay down, ignoring the others. He preferred their silence, not wanting to face questions about his past – questions he couldn’t answer even after asking himself countless times.
Who was he? Where did he come from? How did he end up here?
His mind was a blank slate.
Try as he might, he could only recall the pale moonlight and the scent of blood from that night.
As evening approached, a faint pain began in Jin’an’s chest. After yesterday’s experience, he realized his body would change again at twilight.
A child by day, a young man by night.
Jin’an endured the surging energy within him, crawling under his blanket and removing his new clothes. No one paid attention to him or called him for dinner.
Late into the night, after the exhausted soldiers had fallen asleep, the heat in Jin’an’s body raged like a wild beast, roaring in his chest. Like the previous nights, his whole body ached, as if countless needles were pricking him from within.
Li Shuang’s blood scent was like a distant beacon in the mountains, drawing him in despite the distance.
Barefoot and wrapped in a thin blanket, he silently left the tent without waking anyone.
Even with patrols, the vast camp’s darkness concealed his movements. He easily found his way to Li Shuang’s tent, guided by an inexplicable sense of her location.
The closer he got to her tent, the more his inner turmoil subsided.
The guards around Li Shuang’s tent were noticeably increased, but this didn’t deter him. In his adult form, power flowed endlessly from his core. When far from Li Shuang, this power came with pain, as if a hook embedded in his flesh pulled him back. The further he strayed, the stronger the pull, until he had no choice but to return. Now, with Li Shuang nearby, her presence soothed his pain.
With a light leap, Jin’an soundlessly landed atop Li Shuang’s tent.
No one noticed him, not even Li Shuang inside.
She slept soundly, occasionally murmuring in her dreams.
Jin’an could hear even the faintest sounds.
He found the spot directly above where Li Shuang slept and lay down. Through the felt of the tent, he listened to her steady breathing. Each breath calmed not only his physical pain but also his inner turmoil.
Suddenly, his unknown past and identity seemed unimportant.
Why did he depend on her so much?
Jin’an didn’t know. It was as if he’d been poisoned, and Li Shuang was the only antidote.
He slept on her tent roof all night.
At dawn, it wasn’t the sunlight that woke him, but Li Shuang’s changing breath as she stirred with a yawn.
Jin’an’s eyes snapped open, alert as if he hadn’t slept at all.
His heart contracted sharply. Without the previous pain of transformation, he knew he was about to revert to a child. He leaped from the tent roof.
The guards below noticed nothing.
Inside, Li Shuang opened her eyes and stared at the tent ceiling for a long while before dressing and stepping outside. The guards saluted her, but she walked a few steps away and looked up at the roof.
It was empty.
“Any disturbances last night?” she asked.
“No, General. Nothing unusual,” the guard replied.
Li Shuang nodded, letting the matter rest.