Before **Ren Hao** could figure out what was strange about the little girl, every refugee nearby suddenly turned their heads toward him.
Dozens of eyes fixed on him at once.
Some were filled with doubt.
Some with excitement.
Some with fragile hope.
They were like faint sparks flickering inside the endless darkness of despair.
Since someone had already opened the conversation, Ren Hao—who had been wondering how to begin—shifted his gaze away from the silver-haired girl and began answering their questions.
"I won't hide it from you. I do have a little money saved," he said slowly.
"But half of my coins were spent just to buy this grain."
He kicked lightly at the empty sack beside the fire.
"Even if I spent every last coin on food, it would only feed us for a dozen meals."
His voice grew heavier.
"We won't survive the winter."
"Hell… we won't even survive this month."
A cold wind swept across the street.
No one spoke.
Ren Hao looked around at the hollow faces of the refugees.
"All of us fled here from the **Ashen Frontier**, from **Stormcloud Province**, and even farther lands," he continued.
"We abandoned our homes."
"We risked death crossing the frontier."
"We walked through blood and corpses to reach **Frostwall Province**."
"And when we finally reached the territory of the **Crimson Sun Empire**…"
His eyes darkened.
"We discovered we only have two choices."
"Sell ourselves as slaves to the local noble families."
"Or freeze and starve to death this winter."
He raised his voice.
"Is this the future we fought so hard to reach?"
"Is this why we returned to imperial lands?!"
Ren Hao struggled to his feet.
His entire body trembled from hunger and exhaustion, but his voice carried across the street like a blade cutting through silence.
He poured every ounce of emotion into his words.
Every gesture.
Every trace of anger and desperation shared by the refugees.
"No!"
"There is another path!"
The refugees stared at him.
"My village is also in the occupied lands of the **Ashen Frontier**," Ren Hao continued.
"But it isn't far."
"Only three days from **Iron Gate City**."
"That village is rich land. Wheat fields, grazing pastures, cattle, sheep—everything."
"Just one week ago, **General Lady Feng** and I drove away a band of centaur raiders that had occupied it."
He pointed north.
"The raiders slaughtered the villagers before fleeing."
"Houses stand empty."
"Fields lie abandoned."
"The wheat has ripened in the fields but no one remains alive to harvest it."
His voice hardened.
"We can move there."
"We can take that land and make it ours."
The refugees exchanged uneasy looks.
Ren Hao continued.
"There is only one problem."
"That land lies in the **Ashen Frontier**."
"The Emperor has already abandoned it."
"If we go there…"
"We must defend it ourselves."
A tense silence spread through the crowd.
Ren Hao spread his arms.
"Don't be afraid."
"I have contacts in **Iron Gate City** who can sell us weapons."
"If we arm ourselves…"
"If we fight…"
"Then we can survive."
He looked into their eyes one by one.
"So tell me."
"Who will leave **Frostwall Province** with me?"
"Who will fight for land that belongs to us?"
"Who would rather die standing than live as a slave to those aristocratic families?"
Silence answered him.
Ren Hao had imagined cheers.
He had imagined desperate people rallying behind him.
Instead every refugee stood frozen.
The choice was too terrifying.
Becoming a slave was humiliating.
But Ren Hao's plan sounded like suicide.
Three days beyond imperial protection.
Deep inside monster-infested frontier territory.
Facing raids from centaur tribes at any moment.
A refugee wearing padded cotton clothes finally stepped forward.
Unlike the others, he looked educated.
His eyes were sharp.
"Your plan sounds possible," he said slowly.
"But have you considered two problems?"
Ren Hao nodded.
"Speak."
"First," the man said, "that village lies inside the **Ashen Frontier**."
"Those lands are already overrun by centaur tribes."
"We have barely two hundred refugees here."
"How many people are in your village?"
"One hundred?"
"Two hundred?"
"Even combined… could we defeat the raiders?"
He raised a second finger.
"Second."
"If we form an armed group, we become an illegal militia."
"If the imperial army decides to wipe us out…"
"What will you do?"
"You would be breaking the law."
Ren Hao answered immediately.
"This winter is unusually cold."
"Snow already fell in October."
"The northern plains will soon become a frozen wasteland."
"Centaur riders will not cross deep snow just to hunt a few refugees."
"Next spring their tribes will be busy raising their herds."
"Winter and early spring are when steppe riders are weakest."
"We have at least half a year to prepare."
The refugees murmured quietly.
Ren Hao's second explanation remained inside his mind.
If the imperial army came…
It would not matter.
Because within months, the **Golden Veil Rebellion** would erupt across the empire.
Local governments would collapse.
The Emperor would lose control.
Anyone who could raise soldiers would suddenly become valuable.
Blacksmiths.
Butchers.
Farmers.
Merchants.
All would be allowed to forge weapons and raise armies.
Heavy armor.
Crossbows.
War horses.
Nothing would be restricted anymore.
As long as they fought the rebels, the empire would grant them authority.
The entire continent would descend into chaos.
An illegal militia?
Once the rebellion began…
His army would become legitimate overnight.
That was why Ren Hao refused to join the imperial army.
Power belonged to those who controlled soldiers and land.
A true man could not spend his life serving under someone else.
Look at **General Lady Feng**.
Even with her monstrous strength, she remained only a platoon commander under arrogant nobles.
Ren Hao would never accept such a fate.
Instead of becoming her scout…
He would turn her into his spear.
Ren Hao raised his voice again.
"I am only a farmer," he said calmly.
"I know nothing about laws."
"I only know I refuse to live as a slave."
"That land was abandoned by the Emperor."
"No officials care about it."
"If the imperial army truly comes looking for someone to blame…"
He clenched his fist.
"Then bind me and hand me over."
"Place every crime on my head."
"I have no family."
"No powerful backers."
"If my life can buy all of you freedom, land, and a future…"
He smiled faintly.
"Then I will die without regret."
The refugees stared at him in stunned silence.
Firelight flickered across Ren Hao's pale face.
His strange double pupils glowed faintly gold.
Four shimmering reflections spun inside his eyes like twin constellations.
For a long moment…
No one spoke.
Then a gaunt man holding a small girl suddenly stepped forward.
The man's name was **Orin Moonveil**.
His daughter—only eight years old—was the silver-haired girl Ren Hao had noticed earlier.
Her name was **Aurelia Moonveil**.
Orin looked down at his daughter.
Then he remembered the leering faces of the noble families that morning.
He clenched his teeth.
"Damn it…"
"I'm in."
"Count me among the gamblers."
Another man stood up immediately.
"I was born a free man of the **Ashen Frontier**!"
"Why should I come here just to become someone's slave?"
"My name is **Valerian Stormrider**."
"I volunteer!"
A woman's cold voice suddenly echoed nearby.
"The noble families here are beasts."
A beautiful woman wearing a green robe stepped forward.
Her eyes burned with fury.
"My husband lies dying from illness," she said.
"And those aristocrats dared threaten me."
"They said if I became their servant girl…"
"They would 'save' my husband."
She spat on the ground.
"My name is **Seraphina Blackthorn**."
"If my husband wasn't dying, I would have already chopped that man apart with an axe."
She lifted two wood-cutting hatchets.
"Ren Hao."
"From this moment forward…"
"I follow you."
Suddenly more voices erupted.
"I'm in!"
"Count me in!"
"Better to fight than live like dogs!"
"Let's kill those nobles and the centaur tribes!"
Hope ignited.
More than one hundred refugees eventually chose to follow Ren Hao.
Another hundred lacked the courage.
They chose to remain behind and become servants to the noble families.
That night Ren Hao counted the volunteers.
One hundred and one people.
Most were young men and women.
The older refugees had already lost their will to fight.
They believed they would never survive the harsh journey north.
Ren Hao nodded slowly.
His original village still had over two hundred survivors.
Roughly one hundred were strong enough to fight.
Combined with these refugees…
He would command two hundred young warriors.
That was enough.
More than enough.
The next morning the refugees left **Iron Gate City** in small groups.
They regrouped north of the city walls.
There they found **General Lady Feng** waiting.
Several carts loaded with weapons stood behind her.
Ren Hao blinked in shock.
"You're only a platoon commander responsible for a hundred soldiers," he said.
"Where did all these weapons come from?"
Lady Feng shrugged casually.
"The Northern Frontier Camp once had three thousand soldiers."
"After the imperial downsizing, barely one thousand remain."
"But they still report supplies for two thousand."
She smirked.
"Where do you think the extra equipment goes?"
Ren Hao understood instantly.
Corruption.
Even the imperial army was rotting from within.
Still…
For once, corruption worked in his favor.
Ren Hao immediately began buying weapons.
Shields.
Spears.
Halberds.
Axes.
Pikes.
Longbows.
Arrows.
By the time he finished, his entire bounty of **80,000 coins** had vanished.
Lady Feng even added extra grain and handcarts.
Soon the refugees began their march toward the **Ashen Frontier**.
Snow slowly swallowed the grasslands behind them.
Fate itself had begun to change.
A single choice had already altered countless destinies.
Aurelia Moonveil…
Seraphina Blackthorn…
Valerian Stormrider…
Captain **Yuna Frostmane**…
Even the mysterious strategist **Arcanis Vale**.
None of them knew it yet.
But the storm of the coming era had already begun.
And at its center…
Stood Ren Hao.