Chapter Seven: A Precious Find

Zhang Yu had no time to be intoxicated by his own transcendent and ethereal bearing; the scene before him made his heart pound as if war drums were beating within.

"You!" Zhang Yu stretched out his slender, jade-like finger, pointing at the front row of the crowd—the sturdiest among them. "Put down the grain."

"Why should we?"

"Who are you to say that! What I fought for is mine!"

"We took the food with our own hands—why should we give it back?"

For a moment, the group was brimming with indignation.

With a cold flash, Zhang Yu drew the resplendent sword from his waist, the tip aimed directly at those making the most noise.

"Enough!"

At his furious rebuke, dozens of Zhang family retainers simultaneously raised their weapons and clubs.

A deathly silence fell; only Zhang Yu's voice echoed beneath the night sky.

"You are all unfortunate souls. I, Zhang Yu, and all my family, grieve for your homelessness, for your drifting and suffering, for your hunger and cold. Forced to wander like ants, as humble and insignificant as weeds.

So we wish to help you survive, to save as many as we can. What you are stealing now is not yours by right—it is what my family has set aside to rescue others! Saved by the mouths of a hundred members of my household!

If I do not give it, you cannot take it by force!"

The silence was so deep one could hear a pin drop. Only Zhang Yu's voice lingered in the stillness.

Once more pointing to the troublemakers, Zhang Yu continued, "All men are selfish, but you must remember—you are still human!

Look around, turn to one another—do you recognize those beside you?

I think you do. I don’t know where you all came from, but you have certainly suffered along the way. When you were exhausted, when you despaired, when you felt your life was worthless—who helped you carry on? Who stood by you through the darkest nights until you reached this dawn? Are you truly going to stab each other in the back now?

Ask yourselves, honestly—will eating a little less kill you? Look at those around you, the elderly, the children—can they endure what you can?

Self-interest can be understood. But even now, must you be so greedy and insatiable..."

Zhang Yu let out a faint, scornful laugh, then roared at the crowd, his voice cracking like thunder, "Are you still human?!"

With a crash, someone let the grain in his hands fall to the ground.

The rest stood frozen, unsure what to do.

"Everyone," Zhang Yu's tone was cold as snow, "put the grain back."

People hesitated, torn. Yet when the first person returned the food and embraced the disabled friend he had shoved aside earlier, sobbing bitterly, the rest quickly followed suit. Soon, the four piles of grain before the granary were restored to their original state.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Zhang Yu lightly clapped his hands three times, and a wooden cart was pushed forward by his servants, bearing two stoves, four buckets of water, and two large cauldrons.

"Boiling the grain into porridge will be better for your bodies. Now, the elderly and children to the front, able-bodied adults to the back—form two lines in front of the cauldrons. We will distribute it in order. One bowl per person—when you finish, pass the bowl on to the next, then please leave quietly. Children, the elderly, and the sick may have a second helping."

Hearing that there would be porridge, and having witnessed Zhang Yu's earlier actions, the crowd obeyed readily and sincerely. Under Zhang Yu and his retainers' direction, two long lines soon formed on the street.

Steam rose from the cauldrons as Zhang family maids ladled out porridge for the refugees. The young maids, kind-hearted by nature, were eager to stretch the food as far as possible for these wretched folk.

The people were simple at heart; each waited quietly in line—no noise, no tumult. Everything proceeded in order and with discipline.

Zhang Yu let out a long breath of relief, reflecting that if this were the modern era, where individuality was celebrated, his speech might have backfired. If some stubborn youth or unruly woman had started hurling abuse, would he really have drawn his sword? Things would have become tricky.

After about an hour, the last person in line finished his porridge—a young man who had earlier exchanged blows with Zhang Biao. Yet, not a single person among the hundred-plus present left.

"What are you all standing around for? We're out. Come back tomorrow. It's late—everyone, go home and rest." With that, Zhang Yu began directing the servants and maids to pack up. But then—

Thud!

Someone fell to his knees.

Then two, then three.

Over a hundred refugees, together with dozens of Zhang family retainers and maids, all knelt before Zhang Yu, utterly devoted and sincere.

"Ding! Congratulations, Host! You have successfully earned the respect and awe of all 176 people present. Gained reputation points: 200. Current reputation: 350. Gained experience: 500. Current experience: 1000."

...

Magpies chirped in the clear morning; the gray clouds had scattered. Gentle sunlight, carried by a warm breeze, poured through the window onto Zhang Yu's bed.

Perhaps he had been too exhausted from the previous day's efforts, or perhaps the gratitude of those he aided had comforted him—either way, it was the most restful sleep Zhang Yu had enjoyed since arriving in this world, dreamless, undisturbed, until dawn.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw little Ying'er sitting before him, her bright black eyes fixed on him. If she hadn’t been some distance away, he might have been startled.

"Ying'er, what are you doing?"

"Ah? Young master, you're awake! I've been waiting for ages. Two people came looking for you at dawn—they’re kneeling outside the gate and refuse to leave or stand up. Master said you should see them as soon as you wake."

"Someone looking for me? But I don’t know anyone in this world..." Puzzled, Zhang Yu quickly dressed and tidied himself, then made his way to the gate.

At the entrance, he saw the pair and paused, then smiled and went forward, helping the brother and sister to their feet. "What is it? Hungry again? I haven’t had breakfast myself—come with me quietly, let’s eat together, and then you can slip out the back. Let’s keep it discreet."

Unexpectedly, the sturdy young man dropped to one knee, clasped his hands, and said, "I was disrespectful before, yet you did not hold it against me. You saved my sister, and you saved me. My sister and I can never repay your immense kindness—"

"What, do you plan to offer yourself to me? Sorry, but I don’t swing that way. Get up and talk!" Zhang Yu laughed and scolded. The young man was straightforward, knew gratitude, and suited his own temperament.

Yet the youth remained kneeling, looking up at Zhang Yu. "You have high status and a noble position, sir. I, Han Long, wish to protect you. I am young and unafraid of hardship. I can train in martial arts and become a great warrior, so that no one can ever harm you! If you are willing to take my sister under your care and shelter us both, I am ready to serve you like an ox or horse, to call you my lord!"

Looking at the youth’s sturdy build, and then at the wide-eyed, round-faced girl at his side, Zhang Yu smiled and agreed.

After all, in a feudal society, one couldn’t befriend just anyone. His family was wealthy and influential, while these two were barely more than beggars. If they called each other brothers, others would surely look down on him. Keeping the right distance inspired both respect and loyalty. In this era, class distinctions were necessary.

Besides, this young man seemed to have great potential. Though Zhang Yu hadn’t heard the name before, with some training, he would make an excellent bodyguard. Han Long—if only he had been Zhao Zilong, he would have welcomed him with open arms, doing everything possible to forge a brotherly bond!

He led Han Long and his sister, Han Yan, into the main courtyard and summoned a servant and a maid to take them away for washing and tidying up. Then Zhang Yu opened the system interface.

"System, search for Han Long," Zhang Yu said casually.

"Ding!

[Han Long: 180–235 AD.
In 235 AD, Wang Xiong, Inspector of Youzhou under Wei, sent the brave warrior Han Long to assassinate Kebineng in the northern desert. With Kebineng’s death, the Xianbei tribes scattered, warring among themselves. The strong fled far, the weak surrendered, and the borders were finally at peace.

Current stats:
Martial prowess—72
Leadership—28
Intellect—17
Politics—20
Charisma—25

Peak stats:
Martial prowess—95
Leadership—62
Intellect—48
Politics—36
Charisma—59]"

"Holy—!" Zhang Yu stared, dumbfounded.

"To plunge deep into the desert and take the head of a chieftain from the midst of ten thousand soldiers... Have I stumbled upon a treasure?!"