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The Wuda man was named Longbu.

Lu Zhuo could recognize him because of his excellent memory, while Longbu could identify Lu Zhuo at the foot of the cliff due to Lu Zhuo's strikingly handsome face that was impossible to forget. Moreover, Longbu had already learned Lu Zhuo's identity years earlier when Lu Zhuo and his wife provided financial assistance for his daughter's medical treatment. During this military confrontation, Longbu knew the enemy commander was none other than Lu Zhuo.

Born and raised among the Wuda people, Longbu was determined to protect his tribe's grasslands and fight alongside his clansmen. He could kill soldiers of the Divine Martial Army without blinking, but facing Lu Zhuo—who had fallen off the cliff and was barely alive—he couldn't bring himself to harm the benefactor who had saved his daughter.

Perhaps heaven had arranged for him to find Lu Zhuo first so he could save him.

Several Wuda soldiers who had been pursuing Lu Zhuo also fell from the cliff, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. Longbu selected the one whose build most resembled Lu Zhuo's and swapped their armor. As an aristocrat, Lu Zhuo had more delicate hands and feet. To make the substitution seamless, Longbu rubbed the Wuda soldier's limbs repeatedly against rocks until they were as bloody and mangled as his crushed face.

The real Lu Zhuo had likely used his sword and vegetation on the cliff face to cushion his fall. Though covered in numerous minor wounds and unconscious, he had survived. However, Lu Zhuo's face was too handsome, forcing Longbu to make a cut across his features and swell his eye sockets and cheeks to avoid suspicion from other Wuda soldiers.

Longbu indeed knew an orphan named Agula who had died, so he assigned that identity to Lu Zhuo.

With multiple external injuries and remaining unconscious, Lu Zhuo was deemed beyond treatment by the army medics. Fortunately, Longbu had leg wounds that exempted him from further campaigns, allowing him to care for Lu Zhuo until the war ended. He then naturally brought the unconscious man home.

While Bao Ya helped her mother clean utensils and the two boys practiced wrestling outside, Longbu sat beside Lu Zhuo and quietly explained the situation over recent months: "Both Wuda and Daqi troops believe you're dead. This is for the best—otherwise, staying in our home would be extremely dangerous for you."

Lu Zhuo understood, though he couldn't fathom how devastated Wei Rao and his family must be.

"What's wrong with my legs?" Lu Zhuo tried moving them but felt nothing.

Longbu squeezed his legs and frowned. "Can't move them? I'll have the tribal physician examine you tomorrow." Since Lu Zhuo had been unconscious until now, he hadn't known about any issues beyond the visible wounds.

After a moment of silence, Lu Zhuo asked Longbu if there was any news from Daqi, clinging to a thread of hope.

As an ordinary foot soldier among the Wuda, Longbu didn't even know Lu Zhuo's wife had visited the grasslands. He only knew the Eighth Prince had been captured by Daqi, and the Khan had surrendered, exchanging the body impersonating Lu Zhuo for the Prince's intact corpse. After the war concluded, Longbu returned to his tribe. The execution of the West Pavilion Marquis Estate's Han family—which had caused an uproar in the capital—was completely unknown to him.

He shook his head at Lu Zhuo.

Lu Zhuo smiled bitterly.

Longbu then instructed him on various details about maintaining their cover story before going to join his wife.As night fell, Longbu's two sons entered the yurt. The brothers, aged fourteen and eleven, simple and cheerful, surrounded Lu Zhuo asking all sorts of questions before eventually growing tired and falling asleep.

Lu Zhuo lay on his back, thinking of Wei Rao, A Bao, and his family, unable to sleep the entire night.

The next day, Longbu brought the tribal healer to examine Lu Zhuo's leg.

There was nothing wrong with Lu Zhuo's leg, nor had his spine been injured. The gray-haired old healer examined nearly every bone in Lu Zhuo's body but found no issues.

"Rest and recuperate. Perhaps it will get better in a few days, or perhaps it won't. It depends on fate," the old healer said with a calm expression, as if detached from life and death.

Lu Zhuo showed no emotion.

Longbu felt sympathy for Lu Zhuo's plight but was also astonished by how quickly the skin on his arms had regained its fair tone—so fair, unlike that of the Wuda People. Starting that day, he moved Lu Zhuo outside to bask in the sun, hoping to darken and toughen his skin as much as possible.

After the old healer left, when they were alone, Lu Zhuo asked Longbu if he could send him back to the border.

Longbu sighed. "Our tribe used to live close to Daqi, where the land was fertile, the grass was lush, and the livestock thrived. But after I took Bao Ya for medical treatment, our tribal leader offended the royal family not long after we returned, and our entire tribe was exiled to this frigid northern land. If I were to send you back, we would face numerous checkpoints along the long journey. For the sake of my wife and children, I cannot take such a risk."

Lu Zhuo understood.

Longbu comforted him, "Don't worry. Focus on recovering first. Perhaps your legs will heal, and then you can leave on your own or stay here. If merchants happen to pass by, I might be able to arrange for them to take you back."

Lu Zhuo did not want to wait, but with his legs immobile and him feeling like a useless person, he had no choice but to wait.

Seeing that Lu Zhuo had calmed down, Longbu called one of his sons to move Lu Zhuo's bed outside so he could sunbathe.

Among the Wuda People, there was a belief that the more a man sunbathed, the stronger he would become. So, to maintain "Agula's" physical strength, Longbu's decision to have Lu Zhuo sunbathe did not arouse suspicion among the tribe.

Outside, Lu Zhuo finally got a clear view of the grassland environment where Longbu and his tribe lived.

As a border military officer, Lu Zhuo was even more familiar with the topographical map of Wuda than that of Daqi.

In the northernmost part of Wuda lay a vast lake known as the North Sea. At that moment, the North Sea and the surrounding snow-capped mountains stretched out before his eyes.

The vastness of the world made him feel as insignificant as a blade of grass.

"Uncle, are you cold?"

A cheerful voice came from behind. Lu Zhuo turned and saw Bao Ya, her hair tied into many small braids. The seven-year-old girl's face was tanned with a reddish hue, but her dark eyes were clearer than the blue sky and the lake water.

Bao Ya held an old blanket, intending to cover Agula Uncle's legs. To her surprise, as soon as she called out "Uncle," Agula Uncle looked at her and suddenly shed two streams of tears.

Was it because the wind was too strong?

In the first year after Lu Zhuo awoke by the North Sea, he lived in a daze. Longbu built him a wheelchair, allowing him to push himself wherever he pleased.

Lu Zhuo's face had darkened from the sun, and his long hair, neglected and unkempt, had become coarse and unruly. He no longer bothered to comb it, appearing disheveled every day. Although the scar on his face had faded over time and was barely noticeable from a distance, in his current state, not only would the Wuda enemy generals who had seen him only a few times fail to recognize him, but even the people of the Duke of Yingguo's Manor would surely not recognize him either.Lu Zhuo's despondency brought Longbu both sympathy and relief. At least no one had recognized Lu Zhuo, meaning he and his family were safe.

During Lu Zhuo's second year living by the North Sea, his beard grew longer, his hair wilder, and his legs remained paralyzed.

Yet Lu Zhuo was no longer silent. He would offer guidance when Longbu taught martial arts to his two sons. He taught Bao Ya how to set traps in the forests near the North Sea to catch game. He would smile when wildflowers bloomed on the grassland, and gaze into the distance at the sound of camel bells, hoping to see passing merchants.

Unfortunately, they were all Wuda merchants heading further north, with none from Great Qi.

In the summer of Lu Zhuo's third year by the North Sea, Longbu's eldest son fell for a girl from another tribe dozens of miles away.

According to Wuda wedding customs, the groom's entire family would first visit the bride's home for feasting and stay overnight. Only if the bride approved of the groom would she follow him back to his tribe the next day.

Longbu wanted to bring Lu Zhuo along. Worried he might refuse, Longbu had his eldest son extend the invitation.

The seventeen-year-old youth glowed with joy at the prospect of marrying his beloved. Seeing the young man's radiant expression, Lu Zhuo agreed.

Early the next morning, the entire family set out. Bao Ya and her mother accompanied Lu Zhuo in the carriage while Longbu and his two sons rode horseback.

The carriage traveled across the grasslands, following the North Sea shoreline toward the other tribe.

Halfway through the journey, Lu Zhuo spotted a dilapidated yurt in the distance. A disheveled man emerged, shackles around his ankles. With his back to them, the man herded sheep from the pen and slowly led them to pasture. An elderly limping man followed, yawning as he trailed behind.

Lu Zhuo studied the shackled man intently.

Noticing his gaze, Bao Ya explained, "He was already here when we moved here. They say he offended the Khan but refused to apologize, so the Khan sentenced him to herd sheep here until he admits his mistake."

Bao Ya's mother, who was driving the carriage, added, "He's a man of principle. Seems he's been exiled here for over twenty years."

Bao Ya's eldest brother commented, "The Khan is truly cruel. If he committed a crime, just execute him. Why punish him like this? If it were me, I'd rather die than endure such living hell."

The Wuda people cherished freedom like eagles soaring in the sky - better to die than have their wings clipped.

Lu Zhuo seemed not to hear their discussion, his eyes fixed on the shepherd.

Though his legs weren't shackled, like that man, he too was trapped, unable to go anywhere.

His resilience came from clinging to hope - the hope of returning to familiar homeland and seeing those he missed day and night. What kept this man punished by the Khan going?

Longbu's daughter-in-law proved to be a lively, cheerful girl. That evening, everyone sang and danced around the bonfire, transforming the harsh borderlands into an earthly paradise.

After a night's stay, the bride expressed full satisfaction with the groom. After breakfast with the bride's family, Longbu's household began their journey home.Lu Zhuo sat in the carriage and saw that man again. This time, he caught a full view of the man's face. The wind blew directly toward them, sweeping the man’s disheveled hair backward, revealing a resolute and weathered countenance. Though his beard was wild and unkempt, Lu Zhuo clearly saw the man’s eyes and brows...

His voice caught in his throat, but Lu Zhuo’s body lunged forward uncontrollably. By the time Bao Ya cried out in alarm, Lu Zhuo had already tumbled from the carriage and fallen to the ground.

Longbu and his two sons swiftly dismounted and helped Lu Zhuo to his feet.

Lu Zhuo closed his eyes, his face flushed as if bearing some immense agony, while his mind surged with turbulent waves.

It was said that this man had been exiled to the North Sea for over twenty years.

And his own father, Lu Mu, had died in battle when Lu Zhuo was eight years old—his body never recovered. That was twenty-two years ago now.

"Agula, are you all right?" Longbu asked worriedly, noticing the blood at the corner of Lu Zhuo’s mouth.

Lu Zhuo shook his head and instinctively tried to push Longbu away to stand on his own. But as his hand gripped Longbu’s arm and he felt the long-lost sensation beneath his feet, he clutched Longbu’s arm tightly, suppressing the overwhelming excitement.

"It’s nothing—I just lost focus for a moment," Lu Zhuo said with a faint smile, concealing his unusual reaction. He allowed Longbu and his son to help him back into the carriage.