A large fire illuminated the night sky above a small army encampment. It only held fifty or so men, but anyone who knew anything about their recent military exploits would rather face an army of a thousand than these elite troops. Ten thousand, even.

Ten soldiers in fifty kept careful guard as their companions slept. They did this even though no unlucky encounters had happened for years under their colonel's watch. "Prepared men make their own luck," the man had once said. And these soldiers listened to his words like they would a royal decree. They were always prepared.

In the distance, a white figure grew larger as it approached. It was a white-clothed messenger riding a white horse. If it were war times, such clothing would be frowned upon. However, in the current peaceful times, it was customary for a messenger to wear white to alert allies before arriving.

"Greetings, messenger," one of the soldiers said.

The young man riding the horsed hurriedly hopped off and bowed as he delivered the letter.

"For Colonel Feng," the man said. The soldier that received him summoned his partner and sent him off with the letter. He invited the young man to sit by the fire.

"Will you be leaving shortly?" he asked, serving the man a bowl of stew. He looked exhausted, as though he'd been riding for days on end.

The young man shook his head. "I must return with Colonel Feng's reply as soon as possible. A meal and a bed for the night would be nice."

"We'll take care of that, don't you worry," the soldier said. "Corporal Liu!" he barked.

One of the patrol members ran over and stood at attention. "Set up a tent for this fellow."

The soldier bowed and went straight to work, quickly setting up the tent with military precision. It only took him a quarter hour.

Just as the tent was completed, a tall figure in black armor could be seen walking from across the camp.

"Colonel Feng!" the soldiers and the messenger said, standing at attention.

"At ease," Feng Ming said. His men relaxed but didn't reduce their vigilance against the things that might be lurking in the darkness. With these men, he could brave hell or high water. They protected him, and he protected them in return.

"Have you prepared a reply, Colonel Feng?" the young messenger asked expectantly.

Feng Ming shook his head. "No need. Please tell my father that I won't be returning. I am accomplishing many important things, and I won't get involved in political squabbles."

The messenger paled. "Could you please write something short for my sake?" he implored. "I have a pen and paper ready for you to use."

"Fine," Feng Ming said. "For your sake." He wrote a short hundred-character message and sealed it with wax and the ring on his finger. "Stay the night before you leave," he said. "This message isn't so urgent that you shouldn't rest." The messenger hesitated but nodded, visibly relaxing. "As for all of you, I don't want to hear any rumors about this conversation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Colonel!" they shouted.

Feng Ming didn't join them by the fire. Instead, he sat in his tent and pondered. His father had sent him a letter, asking him to return home due to the current political instability. For the sake of the family, he said. But to Feng Ming, filial piety only went so far. While he was out here leading his men, he prevented much suffering and chaos in the kingdom. Could he really abandon these people just to please his father?

He only hoped his decision wouldn't affect too many things in his family. As the only son, his input and contributions were important.

They should be all right, he thought. Father never listens to me anyway. I just hope he stays neutral and doesn't get involved in petty squabbles for the throne.

The night passed quickly, and before he knew it, dawn had arrived. Fortunately, sleep didn't matter much for someone in his realm. Eight golden runes floated in his mental space. They embodied all the merit he had accumulated through his daring deeds. To condense them, he had slaughtered countless bandits, rebels, and vicious monsters. Now, he was only missing a little more.

In just a few more months, he would condense the next rune and cultivate the next stage of the Good Fortune Scripture—Lucky General.