Chapter 605 – The Legacy of Nan Sheng (Part 4)
“Allow me to introduce myself, my surname is An, and my given name is Huan.”
Despite wearing the attire of a soldier, this person still held himself with grace as he bowed in greeting, showing no signs of disrespect.
“I am Liu Xi,” Jiang Pengji responded and then inquired, “If I’m not mistaken, does Brother An hail from the South?”
An Huan recalled the conversation Jiang Pengji had with Wei Ci and others when he arrived, and in his heart, he gave up on the idea of concealment.
With a weary expression, he stated, “Indeed, I am from Nan Sheng.”
Although An Huan had not heard of Liu Xi’s great name while in Nan Sheng, after fleeing to the Northern Dongqing, he certainly had heard of it.
He thought Liu Xi would be a stable, mature gentleman, but upon seeing him, he found a spirited young boy instead, whose heroic looks were tempered by a hint of youthful ambiguity. Looking at himself, An Huan could only sigh and reflect.
An Huan, An Duo Xi.
The character “Huan” signifies worry.
His elders had given An Huan the courtesy name “Duo Xi,” which sounded somewhat ordinary, yet was filled with blessings.
Unfortunately, An Huan’s life changed drastically from the day the Southern Barbarians breached the capital.
Wei Ci sighed inwardly—so it was indeed him.
As Jiang Pengji conversed with An Huan, Wei Ci discreetly lowered his eyes and tightened his grip within his long sleeves, leaving a few crescent-shaped imprints on his pale nails. He remembered when he last encountered An Huan; the man was still an inconspicuous figure.
Using An Huan’s own words for self-mockery—it had been a wearisome decade, endlessly revolving, with no end in sight.
The old kingdom was no more, and his hair was streaked with gray.
He had wandered from east to west, and without realizing it, he was now over forty.
If nothing unexpected happened, he had already traversed more than half of his life, yet he still yearned for revenge against the Southern Barbarians.
An Huan had indeed deep-seated grievances with the Southern Barbarians that needed settling.
Wei Ci, sitting quietly to the side, listened to their conversation while pondering his own matters.
After being reborn, Wei Ci had not failed to think of this old lord, but he knew An Huan was not his wise ruler.
This man’s thirst for revenge was too powerful, especially after more than a decade of wandering; his hatred for the Southern Barbarians had penetrated to the bone, and vengeance had become his demon and obsession. Wei Ci still vividly recalled the scene when An Huan ordered the massacre of the Southern Barbarians.
As a person from the Central Plains, Wei Ci held no fondness for the barbarians, but that did not mean he could stand idly by as An Huan issued the orders for genocide.
Just looking at the outcome made it clear what the results of Wei Ci and An Huan’s clash would be.
Wei Ci lost.
630,000 barbarian commoners, regardless of gender or age, were utterly slaughtered; several major rivers in Nan Sheng were clogged, the waters completely stained red.
An Huan did not command the soldiers to stop; he knew all too well what the barbarian populace experienced before the slaughter began.
After this clash, Wei Ci and An Huan gradually grew apart.
Wei Ci sought a wise ruler who could unify the Nine Provinces and save the common people from fire and water, not a butcher blinded by the hatred of his homeland, who also committed heinous crimes! What An Huan ultimately did was no different from the once-feared Southern Barbarians.
Wei Ci admitted An Huan’s accusations against him, claiming he had the compassion of a woman and was merely speaking from a place of comfort.
After all, it was An Huan who lost his country, had his wife killed, and lost his children—not him.
However, that didn’t justify An Huan’s excuse for seeking revenge in the same manner.
There were many other means to exact revenge on the Southern Barbarians; it didn’t have to be full of brutality and abhorrence.
Why did An Huan choose the most violent and despicable method?
Wei Ci understood An Huan’s desire for revenge, but he did not condone his actions.
An Huan raised an army solely for vengeance, his vision limited to revenge, with no regard for the common people’s plight.
Someone willing to abandon everything for hatred was certainly not the wise ruler Wei Ci was searching for.
Their paths diverged, and thus Wei Ci had not paid special attention to this old lord’s circumstances since his rebirth.
Fate was remarkable; the two of them had met several years earlier than anticipated.
At this moment, in Nan Sheng, it had only been more than a year since the kingdom’s downfall, and An Huan had been wandering for just a few months, his face still relatively youthful, his brow retaining a hint of the authority he once had, managing to cling to the last shreds of his pride—far from the man he would become in a decade, when despite being in his forties, he would be gray-haired, weathered, with a stooped back resembling an elderly man, his eyes the only features still sharp with rebellious spirit.
Feng Zhen noticed Wei Ci’s distraction and subtly tugged at his sleeve.
“Why are you lost in thought?”
Wei Ci lowered his gaze and replied, “I probably didn’t sleep well last night; I’m feeling a bit drowsy.”
Feng Zhen, ever astute, smoothly followed his lead, “If you’re unwell, you should head back to the carriage and rest.”
The ailing should have the self-awareness to take care of themselves—if feeling unwell, rest is the best remedy.
Health is the capital for causing trouble.
The two of them stirred Jiang Pengji and An Huan’s attention.
An Huan glanced over, taken aback by Wei Ci’s appearance and demeanor.
Currently, An Huan, who had not yet undergone over a decade of wandering, found Wei Ci’s looks quite agreeable to his taste.
Jiang Pengji echoed, “If you’re feeling unwell, don’t push yourself; take the time to recuperate.”
Wei Ci didn’t insist and got up to leave.
Feng Zhen’s eyes flickered as he cupped his hands in farewell and quickly followed Wei Ci’s pace.
“Why are you following me?”
Wei Ci wanted some quiet time alone, but Feng Zhen, thick-skinned as ever, climbed into the carriage with him.
“You know this An Huan,” Feng Zhen asserted confidently, “What’s his background? Just look at his face; he doesn’t seem like someone to be trifled with.”
Wei Ci didn’t deny it but instead said, “An Huan is from Jiangzhou in the southern region of Nan Sheng; his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all prominent officials for three consecutive generations, making him part of the rising gentry in the South. An Huan himself holds considerable esteem within Nan Sheng. His mother is the younger sister of the ruler of Nan Sheng, so he has ties to the royal family. When Nan Sheng fell, An Huan’s entire clan…”
Feng Zhen wasn’t surprised that Wei Ci knew so much; this fellow had always been well-informed.
“So only An Huan escaped?”
Wei Ci nodded, “Yes.”
An Huan was now around twenty-seven or twenty-eight—right at the peak stage of life. If not for the Southern Barbarians’ invasion, he would’ve been a winner in life.
Unfortunately, An Huan’s parents and family were brutally murdered, his wife committed suicide out of humiliation, and both his son and daughter met a tragic end.
Only he remained to struggle for survival.
Considering it from his perspective, Wei Ci could understand why An Huan harbored such hatred for the Southern Barbarians.
Understanding didn’t equate to acceptance.
Had An Huan been merely a common citizen, seeking blood for blood against his enemies, Wei Ci could admire him as a valiant man. But An Huan was one of the rival lords vying for supremacy—a man blinded by hatred, disregarding reason; with a single decree, he slaughtered the entire Southern Barbarian clan. How could such a person become the ruler of the world?
Even if by some stroke of luck he did ascend, how long could this state last?
Feng Zhen lamented, “The barbarians are pitiful; it seems they’ll be hated to death by those from the South.”
Wei Ci replied, “Not just that… perhaps they could leverage their own capabilities to retake Nan Sheng.”
Feng Zhen recalled the flame patterns on An Huan’s arms and vaguely grasped something.
He said, “This man’s ambition… is not small, huh?”
