Xu Anping leaned against the aged wooden table of the tavern, his eyes sharply observing the smoky and tense atmosphere. Beside him, Liang drank his tea calmly, though he was also attentive to the conversations around them. The small, dim tavern was filled with the murmurs of soldiers and civilians, men and women worn down by the war. The echoes of words mixed with the crackling of torches and the sour aroma of cheap liquor.
The mood in the tavern was a mix of resignation and frustration. Some were discussing the latest battles, while others drank in silence, trying to forget the harshness of the war. In that gloomy space, the faces were hard, the expressions grim, everyone trapped in a conflict that seemed endless.
Suddenly, a clear, youthful voice broke through the murmur. Across the room, a scruffy-looking young man, dressed in worn but good-quality clothes, spoke with a mix of frustration and passion. His tone, though filled with pessimism, resonated with an uncomfortable truth that drew everyone's attention, including Xu Anping's.
"This world is already lost," the young man said, resting both elbows on the table in front of him. "The rebels are divided. No faction can agree on a leader, not even on their goals. Meanwhile, the Empire is rotten from within, corroded by merchants and noble families who treat it like their personal power game. This war won't end soon—it will spread like poison across all the lands."
A heavy silence took over the tavern. Some of the patrons exchanged uncomfortable glances; others frowned, clearly annoyed by the comment. An older man, his face weathered by years of battle, shot a contemptuous look at the young man.
"What do you know, boy?" he growled, his voice raspy from years of tobacco and exhaustion. "The rebels will win. We're gaining ground every day. The Empire is weakening; they won't be able to hold on for much longer."
Several men around him nodded, murmuring their agreement with the veteran's words. However, the young man was not intimidated.
"Gaining ground?" he replied, a bitter smile on his lips. "Every victory we've had has been fleeting. Don't you see that the rebel factions are more busy fighting each other than the real enemy? We can barely organize a coherent offensive. Meanwhile, the Empire, though corrupt, is still an efficient war machine. And even if we manage to defeat it, what will be left? The same noble families that control the Empire will seek to control whatever remains of the rebels."
At that moment, a man sitting at the end of the bar, shrouded in shadow, let out a low, cynical laugh. He seemed to have paid little attention until now, but his words cut through the tense atmosphere of the tavern.
"The Empire doesn't need to do much to win this war." His voice was soft, but the confidence behind his words rang with strength. "You'll destroy yourselves before you even get close to the capital walls."
The young man looked at him with disdain but didn't respond directly. Instead, he let his eyes roam the room, taking the pulse of the mood.
"Perhaps you're right," he finally said. "Maybe the rebels and the Empire are destined to destroy each other. But it won't be because the Empire is invincible. It will be because we lack a worthy leader, someone to unite everyone under one banner, like the Hero King did against the barbarians."
The silence in the tavern deepened. The name of the Hero King wasn't spoken lightly. He was the founder of the Empire, savior of the civilized world, unifier of the realm… Despite all his accomplishments, after his death, the great empire he left behind had fragmented, and civil wars and power struggles had turned it into a distant memory.
"The Hero King…" someone murmured from the darkest corner. "We don't need legends, boy. We need realism."
The young man turned toward that voice, his expression hardening.
"Realism? Is that what you call letting the chaos continue endlessly? Realism is what got us here. Without a strong leader, without someone to guide us, we're doomed to repeat the same mistakes. This isn't just about defeating the Empire; it's about building something better after its fall. The Hero King understood that. He didn't settle for just winning battles; he built a future for everyone. Where is that kind of leadership now?"
The young man's words struck deeply with Xu Anping, who had been quietly observing the scene. Though the comparison to the Hero King might seem excessive to some, the young man was touching on an important point. Xu Anping had also seen how the ideals of justice and freedom crumbled under the weight of ambition and corruption. He knew that without a strong leader, the rebels couldn't win, and even if they did, chaos would be inevitable.
"The Hero King was an exception!" another man exclaimed, clearly upset with the direction the conversation was taking. "We can't expect someone like him to appear again. That was centuries ago."
"And that's why we're where we are now," the young man replied, without losing his composure. "We've settled for mediocre leaders, and that's why this war has no end. The Empire may be rotten inside, but they still have a system. We, on the other hand, are just a collection of factions fighting for scraps of power. None of us are thinking about the future, only the present. Only someone with the Hero King's vision could change that."
Some voices among the patrons began to rise in protest, though not all against the young man. One man, clearly drunk, raised his beer mug.
"The Empire will fall!" he shouted, swaying on his feet. "There are more of us, and we're fighting for freedom!"
"Freedom?" the young man mocked, his tone more serious now. "Tell me, what's your definition of freedom? Because the only freedom I've seen in this war is the freedom to die for causes we don't even understand. The Empire oppresses us, yes, but the rebels are not much better. Just look around you. How many have died so that a rebel noble can gain more power? This war has no end because it's not about freedom. It's about who will control the lands once the Empire falls."
One of the men who had remained silent until now spoke, his tone low but firm, as if afraid of the consequences of what he was about to say.
"You might be right, boy, but don't forget where you are. This is rebel territory. You shouldn't criticize those who protect you from the imperial troops."
The young man shrugged, showing no fear in his expression.
"I know where I am, but the truth is the truth, whether we like it or not. The Empire and the rebels will destroy each other, and in the meantime, the rest of the world will burn in chaos. The peasants, the merchants, the common folk… we'll all be the ones paying the price for this endless war."
Liang, sitting next to Xu, frowned, noticing the growing unease in the atmosphere. Several people in the tavern had begun to stand up, clearly irritated by the young man's words. Xu Anping, for his part, kept his gaze fixed on the boy. There was something in his way of speaking, in his clarity of thought, that made him stand out from the crowd.
Finally, when the discussion seemed to be reaching a boiling point, the tavern keeper intervened, banging the bar with a metal mug to get everyone's attention.
"Enough!" he shouted. "Everyone here is tired of the war, but I won't let my tavern become a battleground of ideas. If you want to fight, do it outside."
The young man shrugged and got up from the table. Xu Anping saw the perfect opportunity. He knew that someone with such a critical and sharp vision could be of great use, both within the rebel army and on his own path to power. It was a risk, of course, but Xu Anping had always been a strategist who played the long game.