General Wen Maomao was not only a military doctor but also an armorer.

As a token of gratitude for helping deliver the items, Wen Maomao gave General Huo the slingshot he had been using to fight the Drainage Beasts. 

Huo Jintuo had also returned to the Hu Xiao Guard camp on the outskirts of the capital, and it wasn’t until he saw his older brother, who had come to inspect the troops, that he was reminded of this matter. 

The slingshot he held was indeed somewhat unusual. In fact, just by looking at it, one could tell that it was slightly odd compared to ordinary wooden slingshots. At both ends of the sling’s arms were two extremely smooth, polished rollers, and the ox-hide string was not tied directly to the ends of the arms but was instead intricately wound around these two small rollers.

At first, Huo Jintuo didn’t give it much thought, dismissing it as just a child’s fanciful whim. It wasn’t until his brother picked it up to examine it that the truth suddenly dawned on him. 

Wen Maomao, the small slingshot modified with guidance from System 666, not only had an extremely long range but was also more efficient and required less effort. 

A single turn of the pulleys at both ends instantly reduced the draw weight, allowing even the frail eldest son of the Huo family to easily draw the slingshot to full tension, while also greatly increasing the projectile’s velocity. Anyone with even a basic understanding of archery knows that the faster the speed, the greater the penetrating power. 

If Huo Jintuo hadn’t intervened at that moment, Wen Maomao’s slender-looking slingshot—which even had a little chick pecking at grain drawn on the handle—might actually have managed to put a hole in the chi-shou (dragon-head ornament) at the base of the Wuwei Hall’s Sumi pedestal, which had likely stood there for hundreds of years.

His older brother didn’t know anything about martial arts, but he had a sharp mind: “If we enlarged this strange wheel, thickened the bow arms, and replaced them with tougher materials…”

The eldest son of the Huo family had only recently joined the Cabinet, ranking last among the seven ministers, and had been assigned to take over the work of compiling the *Essentials of Weapons* from his predecessor, who had been dismissed from office; his visit to the Hu Xiao Guard to inspect the armor and staff was for this very purpose. He was highly attuned to weapons reform.

The second son of the Huo family’s eyes grew brighter and brighter as he listened; his little sister had truly struck gold. His older brother, however, simply tucked the slingshot under his arm and walked away. 

Huo Jintuo: “!!! You better come back right now!”

Coincidentally, Imperial Consort Huo Hanguang was also talking to Wen Maomao about her two older brothers at that very moment. As she leaned down to fasten the jeweled neck ring—which she’d had the Imperial Household Department rush to produce—around the child’s neck, she said, “Our siblings’ names come from *The Ballad of Mulan*: ‘The northern wind carries the sound of the golden gong; cold light shines upon the iron armor.’ Have you heard of it?”

Wen Maomao shook his head while cradling the little tiger, causing the ruby pendants on the jeweled neck ring to sway back and forth. 

General of Martial Virtue, who was still illiterate, had never heard of this ballad, but he was quick to grasp the pattern: “So, Auntie’s name is Huo Hanguang, and Uncle’s name is Huo Jintuo.”

“That’s right.” Imperial Consort Huo, pleased with herself, adjusted the ruby the size of a pigeon’s egg hanging from her chest, then winked mischievously. “Guess what my older brother’s name is.”

“His name is Huo Shuqi!” the little one answered confidently.

“Everyone thinks that, but his name is actually Huo Qichuan.” 

“Huh?” The little one’s eyes widened instantly. 

“Because my father never liked reading when he was little. He recited a poem wrong and always thought this line was ‘Huo Qichuan Jin Tuo.’ He thought it was the perfect name for his son. So, what does this story teach us?”

“To study hard?”

“It’s ‘don’t force yourself if you’re not cut out for it,’” the Imperial Consort raised her finger and tapped the little boy’s forehead. She watched as he wobbled like a roly-poly toy—tilting back slightly before bouncing back with remarkable stability. She’d heard that Wen Maomao had nearly suffered from indigestion from all the treats the ladies of the various palaces had sent him, so she was gently guiding him: “What should we do next time with pastries we can’t finish?”

She thought this overly gentle child simply didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, always feeling that it would be rude to eat one thing but not another.

But the rather thrifty child tilted his head back and said, “But Grandma said we shouldn’t waste food.” 

“Who knows the toil behind every grain of rice on our plates?”—this was one of the few poems that the illiterate little Mao could recite off the top of her head. Part of it was not wanting to hurt the ladies’ feelings, and part of it was not wanting to waste food.

Miss Huo San, who had never known hardship in her life, looked slightly taken aback, but she didn’t say anything about how trivial this bit of waste was. Instead, she turned to the child and discussed the matter seriously: “Then let’s share the extra with others first, shall we?”

“Okay!” Wen Maomao agreed.

“As for the future, let’s work with the ladies to set up a rotation schedule so everyone can deliver their gifts at different times. That way, you won’t be wasting their kindness, and you won’t be wasting food either. Everyone’s happy, right?”

What seemed like a simple solution to the adults was met with a tidal wave of admiration from the little one, who let out one “Wow!” after another.

So much so that Wen Maomao almost forgot the reason he’d come: to tell Auntie Huo that Little Tiger had encountered Uncle Huo twice today outside the Wuwei Hall and noticed strange fluctuations emanating from him both times, which had the little boy a bit worried. The Newbie System couldn’t pinpoint exactly what those fluctuations were, and the little boy couldn’t understand them either, but he still anxiously chattered on to Auntie Huo for quite a while. 

Imperial Consort Huo didn’t brush it off lightly; she simply figured it out based on her own understanding and said earnestly, “Then I’ll tell Uncle to be careful when he goes out recently. It seems he really is experiencing some bad luck this year.” 

Young General Huo was completely baffled by the message his sister had sent from the palace and refused to believe a word of it. He had just ridden back home from the encampment outside the city, still in full military regalia, looking exceptionally heroic. 

The Huo family residence was located in the eastern part of the city, a well-known hub for the region’s powerful and influential figures. Huo Jintuo regretted his decision the moment he stepped down from the dismounting stone; he sensed there was something to his sister’s letter, for he had already heard the “Heavenly Demon Star” in his courtyard letting out a series of “wer wer” cries. 

He’d picked up this “wer wer” sound from Wen Maomao in front of the Wuwei Hall—he had no idea where the child got all these wild ideas from, but it really hit the nail on the head.

Hearing the strange sound of that familiar big-eared monster—the donkey—screeching, Huo Jintuo knew immediately that his cousin’s husband had arrived again.

To be precise, his cousin’s husband lived right next door—two residences converted from a former princess’s mansion. When his married cousin returned to her parents’ home, it was almost as if she were visiting her own home, but the one who visited even more frequently than his cousin was her scholar husband. 

Because…the children were simply too difficult to care for.

He couldn’t bear to put his pregnant wife through the ordeal, but he never went easy on his little brothers-in-law. 

Huo Jintuo immediately wanted to tighten the reins, turn his horse around, and flee, but it was already too late. Although his hearing wasn’t sharp enough to make out what his cousin-in-law—who always spoke in a calm, measured tone—was saying from inside the inner gate, the moment his nephew—a little firecracker who was a veritable demon—burst out from behind the screen wall, he felt as though he’d hallucinated his cousin-in-law’s demonic whisper: “Let’s go see what Second Uncle is up to.”

What else could Second Uncle be doing?

Second Uncle was wishing he could cast the “Shifting Stars and Constellations” spell to go back half an incense stick’s worth of time and strangle the version of himself who had ignored his younger sister’s kind advice and insisted on going home for dinner. Wouldn’t it have been better to go drink with his colleagues and subordinates at Linjiang Pavilion? Wasn’t the communal meal with the soldiers at the barracks just as satisfying? Or even to shamelessly stay in his younger sister’s palace and scrounge a meal there?

No matter where he was, it would have been better than seeing his nephew—the perfect embodiment of a scholar’s noble character—charge out at him brandishing a chain-bladed broadsword to pronounce his sentence: “Uncle, you are to be beheaded on the spot!”

When he was a child, he hated it most when his father compared him to other people’s kids. Only now does he realize…

Sometimes, his own child really wasn’t up to par. He’d only been away from Wen Maomao for a short while, and Huo Jintuo was already missing His Highness. It’s true that comparing goods makes you want to throw them away, and comparing people makes you want to die. Why did the Emperor, without doing a thing, have a child like Wen Maomao, while he had only Bai Shengye? 

Bai Shengye was his nephew—currently the only child in the family. 

Young Master Bai was fair enough—not only did he demand his uncle be executed on the spot, but he also clamored, “Father, behead him immediately!” 

Huo Jintuo had nowhere to run. He could only dismount, toss the reins to the new gatekeeper, and pretend he’d had absolutely no intention of making a hasty escape, all the while asking his eldest nephew—who possessed superhuman strength and had nearly knocked him unconscious with a headbutt—”Where’s your mother?”

“You can’t behead Mom!” The child spoke with a strong, resonant voice, his round eyes glaring defiantly at his uncle with a fierce determination—as if to say, “If you behead my mom, I’ll fight you to the death.”

All right, at least he knows how to stand up for his own mother.

Bai Shengye, the young master who had only partially fulfilled his filial duties, hailed from the Bai family—a renowned family of scholars and farmers in Great Qi and descendants of distinguished statesmen. Ever since the generation that joined the Taizu in his quest to establish the dynasty, the family had laid the foundation for its literary tradition by serving as military strategists known for their resourcefulness and the refined, scholarly demeanor of recluses.

Through the collective efforts of several generations of literary giants, coupled with the profound legacy of three family heads enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple, the image of a family brimming with scholarly erudition but unskilled in warfare became deeply ingrained in everyone’s minds. 

Yet, as fate would have it, this generation gave birth to a “military general.”

The military general inherited his mother’s striking good looks—sharp eyebrows, starry eyes, and chiseled features—truly a sight of a silver saddle gleaming on a white horse, dashing like a shooting star. 

A robust physique with boundless energy.

From the very day he was born and began to make sounds, Bai Shengye embarked on a remarkable life of single-handedly dominating the entire world. It wasn’t that the child was particularly mischievous; he was just a bit too resilient—even hitting him was useless.

In the past, Huo Jintuo had simply thought his cousin’s husband was good-natured—that his cousin would certainly not be at a disadvantage after marrying him. Only now did he realize that his cousin’s husband was not merely magnanimous; he was, in fact, the most patient man in the Great Qi Dynasty. 

During the three years he spent at home observing the mourning period, he personally took charge of dealing with his rowdy biological son. Even his cousin occasionally reached her limit and fled to her best friend’s house, but her husband was always there—come rain or shine—enduring it all. 

“What did your uncle do to you that makes you so determined to take him down today?” Huo Jintuo hoisted his older nephew onto his shoulders, barely managing to stop the little rascal from kicking him in the chest with a death roll. 

What else is there to say? Give him a good squeeze. 

This kid has a stubborn temper, but his cheeks are incredibly soft—perfect for squeezing.

Bai Shengye, who was brought to justice on the spot, didn’t put up a fight. He had as many flaws as there are stars in the sky, but his virtues were as vast as the sun. No matter how you teased him, he would never cry or get angry. He was incredibly tenacious—he’d just keep fighting you, endlessly. 

Bai Shengye, his face contorted into all sorts of strange shapes from his second cousin’s pinching, went on and on—this way and that—explaining to his second uncle right at the front door exactly why he wanted to find a child he’d met outside the Northern Fifth Palace, and why his father hadn’t been able to find him for several days. 

“Uncle, help me!”

“Help you find a kid? Do you know the kid’s name? Which family is he from? Who lives with him? How old is he? What does he look like?”

A barrage of questions rained down on him. Young Master Bai thought for a moment, then replied with complete confidence, leaning on his uncle’s shoulder: “I don’t know. I don’t know the answers to any of those questions.” 

“Then what are you so proud of?” Little General Huo was so exasperated he burst out laughing. “Where am I supposed to find him for you? Bai Shengye, I’m your uncle, not a turtle in a temple lotus pond—are you making a wish here?” 

“My name isn’t Bai Shengye—it’s Zhan Zhulong!” The boy had recently become obsessed with mythological stories. “Uncle, help Zhan Zhulong.” 

“Do I look like a kid to you?” The parent retorted with his usual sarcastic tone.

“Zhan Zhulong” looked rather disgusted: “I’m a kid, but you’re not, Uncle!”

Huo Jintuo could only try to reason with his young nephew, who wasn’t yet old enough to understand logic: “You’ve only seen him once, by chance, from a passing carriage on the street…”

“And we even played war games together,” Bai Shengye added emphatically.

“Okay, so you just played a game together for a little while, and now you’re unilaterally trying to be friends with him—we don’t even know if he’s interested yet.” 

“He is interested. He’s definitely interested—he smiled at me!” Little Young Master Bai argued his case forcefully. 

“…I smiled at you too—does that mean I’m interested in you?”

Bai Shengye thought for a moment and said, “I’m interested in Uncle!”

“Don’t– I can’t afford to raise you.” 

Although he said that, the family line was indeed thin. Counting his cousin who had grown up in their home since childhood, Bai Shengye was currently the only child among the next generation of their siblings. No matter how much Huo Jintuo complained, his hands kept moving: “Well, at least let’s draw a portrait first? That way I can follow the picture to find someone for you.”

Bai Shengye immediately broke into a smile and eagerly offered, “I’ll grind the ink for Uncle! I’ll set out the paperweight for Uncle—and use the best inkstone my dad’s been hiding away!” 

The little boy was incredibly obsequious; not only did he personally lay out the paper and wash his uncle’s brush, but he also served tea and water. Like an unrestrained little carriage, he clattered off to the next room, fetched the specialty “wenyao” coconut sent back from Qiongzhou by his uncle—who was always traveling far and wide—and clattered right back.

All the while, he chattered excitedly, “My uncle says this is called a coconut. The juice is like nectar, and the flesh is like white jade. Uncle, you’ve got to try it!”

With such clumsy movements, a stumble was inevitable. Bai Shengye tripped over his own feet and fell right in front of his uncle. The boy was tough—he didn’t cry at all. He simply brushed the dust off his legs and got back up.

But the coconut he was holding had, as a result of his earlier fall, flown toward his uncle in a strange arc.

Young General Huo had little recollection of what happened next. He only remembered the child—who usually bled but never cried—wailing at the top of his lungs, the whole family rushing over, and how, by the next day, the entire Yongji knew that the mighty General Huo Jintuo had been knocked down by a coconut. 

His sister’s prediction had been spot on.

How embarrassing—truly embarrassing.

Given Young General Huo’s usual temperament, after a fiasco like this, he wouldn’t have set foot outside the house for quite some time.

And indeed, he didn’t go out—but the reason he stayed shut away was no longer the young general’s shame at having lost face; instead, he was poring over the dates, the years, and the words he’d recently exchanged with his sister in the palace.

Then, that very night, Huo Jintuo sent another flattering letter to his sister. The letter contained only one sentence: “My previous idea wasn’t foolproof; I have a better one.”

For example…

Just kill that dog of an emperor!