The morning after the storm, the Wasteland was steaming. The heat returned with a vengeance, baking the wet earth until mist rose from the grass, swirling around the legs of the livestock like phantom spirits.
Chen Yuan stood at the center of the corral, holding a rough hemp rope. In his other hand, he gripped a makeshift hackamore—a loop of rope designed to exert pressure on the nose and poll, bypassing the need for a metal bit that the horse wasn't ready for.
"Alright, Whirlwind," he said, his voice low. "Today, we fly."
The chestnut mare stood fifteen feet away. She was no longer the biting, kicking demon of two weeks ago, but she was far from tame. She watched him with wary intelligence, her ears swiveling.
Chen Yuan didn't walk directly at her. He walked in a circle, applying pressure with his body language. *Drive the hindquarters. Disengage the forehand.*
Whirlwind huffed, pivoting on her front legs to keep him in sight.
"Good. Move those feet."
He worked her for twenty minutes, changing directions, asking for stops. Only when she lowered her head, licking her lips—a sign of submission and thinking—did he approach.
He slid the hackamore over her nose. She tossed her head, fighting the pressure, but he held firm, releasing the tension the instant she stood still.
"Good girl."
He stroked her neck, feeling the coiled muscle beneath the copper coat. She was powerful. A steppe pony mixed with something heavier, built for endurance and speed.
Chen Yuan took a breath. He led her to the fence where a large, flat rock served as a mounting block. He had no saddle. The army had taken them all. He would have to ride bareback, relying on balance and grip.
He stepped onto the rock. He leaned over her back, draping his weight across her spine to let her get used to the sensation.
She flinched. She side-stepped.
"Whoa. Easy."
He swung his leg over.
The moment his weight settled on her back, the world exploded.
Whirlwind didn't run. She didn't buck in a straight line. She went straight up.
She reared, striking the air with her front hooves, twisting her body in a violent arc to throw him off.
Chen Yuan clamped his thighs. He grabbed the rope around her neck—not the hackamore, he didn't want to ruin her mouth—and held on.
**[System Alert: Balance compromised. Engaging Stabilization Protocol.]**
The world spun. Sky, ground, sky, ground.
She landed on all fours and bucked. A series of violent, jackhammer kicks that sent shockwaves up Chen Yuan's spine. His teeth rattled. His grip slipped.
*Don't fall. If you fall, you lose.*
He focused on the System's prompt. He centered his gravity, leaning forward, merging his body with hers.
He pressed his heels into her sides—not to spur her, but to anchor himself.
She crow-hopped across the corral, kicking up clods of dirt.
Zhang Dahu and his brothers, who had been watching from the fence, gasped.
"He's going to die!"
Xu Tie stood silently, his hand on his sword, ready to cut the horse's throat if it rolled on top of his cousin.
Chen Yuan felt the moment the horse realized he wasn't coming off. The panic turned to frustration. She tried one more rear, twisting her body.
Chen Yuan leaned into the turn, anticipating the move.
Finally, she stopped.
She stood in the middle of the corral, trembling, sweat lathering her neck, breathing hard. She turned her head to look at him, one dark eye rolling.
*I'm still here,* Chen Yuan projected silently. *I'm not hurting you. I'm just leading.*
He nudged her gently with his calf.
"Walk on."
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she took a step.
Then another.
"Good."
He didn't ask for a gallop. He didn't ask for a trot. He just walked her in a circle, patting her sweating neck.
"We're partners now," he whispered.
For the first time, the "Red Witch" didn't try to bite him. She lowered her head and chewed on the bit of rope, accepting the rider on her back.
---
The triumph was short-lived.
An hour later, after he had cooled the horse down and turned her out to graze, the sound of hoofbeats came from the main road. Not the light, fast beat of a messenger, but the heavy, rhythmic thunder of cavalry.
Chen Yuan looked up. A cloud of dust was approaching the Wasteland.
"Visitors," Xu Tie said, his voice hardening. "Soldiers."
Chen Yuan walked to the gate. A squad of five riders emerged from the dust. They wore the laminated armor of the Imperial Army, scarves wrapped around their faces against the summer heat. They rode tall, powerful warhorses—animals that cost ten times what a peasant could earn in a lifetime.
The leader, a Lieutenant with a scar running down his cheek, pulled his horse to a halt in front of the fence. He looked down at the muddy corral, the goats, and the cow.
"You Chen Yuan?" the Lieutenant barked.
"I am," Chen Yuan said, bowing slightly but keeping his eyes up. "Can I help the Imperial Army?"
"Procurement," the Lieutenant said bluntly. He dismounted, handing his reins to a subordinate. He walked to the fence, looking at the animals.
He pointed at Hope. "That cow. And the calf. How much?"
Chen Yuan's stomach tightened. "They are not for sale, sir."
"Everything is for sale in war, boy," the Lieutenant sneered. "Or didn't you hear? The front needs meat and transport. The magistrate has authorized a 'Emergency Levy' on all non-essential livestock. I'm here to buy your stock. I'll give you three taels for the pair."
Three taels. It was a insult. Hope alone, with her breeding potential, was worth five. Little Iron was priceless.
"I'm sorry, sir," Chen Yuan said, keeping his voice steady. "But the cow is a registered breeding animal. And the calf is a stud prospect. The 'Emergency Levy' explicitly exempts breeding stock in Article 4."
The Lieutenant stopped. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You know the law, farmer?"
"I read the notices," Chen Yuan said. "And my brother is a scholar. He keeps us informed."
The Lieutenant stepped closer, his hand resting on the sword at his hip. He loomed over Chen Yuan, using his armor and height to intimidate.
"You're very brave with your words. But the army is hungry. If I say that cow is a 'food asset', who is going to stop me? The Magistrate? He's two days away."
"I would stop you, sir," Chen Yuan said quietly.
"You?"
"I have a contract with the Quartermaster's Office," Chen Yuan lied smoothly—well, it wasn't a total lie; he had sold them boots. "Quartermaster Zhao. I am supplying specialized gear to the depot. If you confiscate my breeding stock, you disrupt a military supply chain for leather and boots."
He gestured to his feet. "The 'Rancher Boots' you see on the officers? I make those. I need the herd for the leather."
The Lieutenant paused. He looked at Chen Yuan's boots—sturdy, high-topped, greased. Then he looked at his own standard-issue boots, which were cracked and worn.
"You make these?"
"Yes. I was just at the depot last week. Quartermaster Zhao gave me a waiver for raw materials."
The Lieutenant hesitated. In the chaotic logistics of the army, annoying a supplier who had the ear of a Quartermaster was a bad career move.
"Show me the waiver," the Lieutenant demanded.
"I have a copy inside," Chen Yuan said, bluffing again. He didn't have a waiver for the *animals*, only a receipt for the boots. But he counted on the soldier not reading the fine print.
He went to the shed and retrieved the crumpled receipt from the boot sale. He brought it back.
The Lieutenant snatched it, scanning the paper. He saw the red seal of the Quartermaster and the signature.
"This is for boots," the Lieutenant pointed out.
"It's proof of my status as a military contractor," Chen Yuan countered, standing his ground. "Sir, if you take my breeding stock, I can't produce the hides for the next order. Do you want to explain that to the Quartermaster?"
The Lieutenant stared at him for a long, tense moment. The cicadas screamed in the heat.
Finally, the soldier crumpled the paper and threw it back at Chen Yuan.
"Fine. Keep your skinny cow. But I'm taking the hay."
"The hay?"
"The feed. We need forage for the horses. I'm commandeering half your grass pile. And you'll load it onto our spare mules."
It was a loss, but a survivable one. Grass grew back. Cows didn't.
"Take what you need," Chen Yuan said, bowing.
The Lieutenant barked an order. The soldiers moved efficiently, grabbing pitchforks and loading the stacked hay from the drying racks. They took almost everything Chen Yuan had cut that week.
As they were loading, the Lieutenant looked at the chestnut mare grazing in the paddock.
"That horse. She looks familiar."
"She's a cull from the depot," Chen Yuan said. "I bought her from Quartermaster Zhao. The man-killer."
The Lieutenant laughed harshly. "The Red Witch? I heard she threw three riders. You bought death, farmer. Hope you have a good heir."
He mounted his horse. "Let's go!"
The squad rode off, the mules laden with hay, leaving the Wasteland stripped bare.
Xu Tie walked up beside Chen Yuan, watching them go.
"You took a risk," he said. "Bluffing a soldier."
"I read the room," Chen Yuan said, letting out a long breath. "He wanted a fight, but he didn't want a headache. We lost the hay, but we kept the herd."
"Little Iron is safe."
"For now. But this 'Levy'... it means things are getting worse. We need to speed up. We need to make ourselves too valuable to be conscripted."
---
That night, the family gathered again. The mood was somber.
"They took the hay," Wang Shi said, her face pinched. "We need that for the winter."
"We'll cut more," Chen Yuan said. "The grass is growing fast. We'll cut twice a day if we have to."
He looked at Little Ming.
"Ming, I need you to write something."
"Another defense?"
"No. A letter. To Quartermaster Zhao. I'm going to offer him a deal he can't refuse."
"What kind of deal?"
Chen Yuan held up the piece of leather he had been working on. It was a belt, intricately tooled with a pattern of willow leaves.
"Officer belts. Not just boots. I'm going to turn this ranch into the army's preferred outfitter. If we supply the officers, the soldiers won't dare touch us."
He looked around the table.
"We survived today. But the war is just starting. We need armor of our own. And in this world, silver and connections are armor."
He stood up.
"Tomorrow, I'm going back to town. With the horse."
"You're riding her?" Little Ming asked, eyes wide.
"She needs the exercise," Chen Yuan grinned. "And I need to make an entrance."