April showers brought not flowers, but mud—and grass.
The Wasteland was no longer a wasteland. It was a riot of green. The ryegrass, having survived the winter under its blanket of snow, exploded with the warmth of the spring sun. The blades stood thick and lush, a sea of emerald that rippled in the breeze.
Chen Yuan sat atop Black Mountain, the massive stallion moving with a surprisingly smooth trot along the perimeter fence. From this height, Chen Yuan could survey the entirety of his domain.
The herd was grazing in the lower paddock. Hope, the Yellow Cow, looked sleek and content, her coat gleaming. Little Iron, the star of the ranch, was hard to miss. At seven months old, he stood taller than yearlings in the village. His dark coat absorbed the sun, and he moved with a swaggering confidence, occasionally butting heads with the goats just to remind them who was in charge.
"Easy, boy," Chen Yuan murmured, patting Black Mountain's neck as the horse snorted at a pheasant bursting from the brush.
The ranch was running like a well-oiled machine. The water pipeline was flowing clear, saving hours of labor. The new hay barn was half-full of early spring cuttings.
But there was a hole in their defenses.
Chen Yuan looked at the gate. Xu Tie was good. Dahu was loyal. But they were men. Men needed sleep. Men got distracted.
A ranch needed eyes that never closed.
---
The trip to Qinghe Town was a necessity.
Little Ming's letter had arrived two days prior, carried by a merchant caravan. It was written in elegant, small characters, the ink strokes precise.
*Brother,*
*Life at the Academy is rigorous. The Masters are learned, but the students are... stratified. I have been assigned to the 'North Dormitory', which houses those of humble means. The students from the gentry families reside in the 'East Courtyard'.*
*I have passed the initial assessments. My knowledge of the Classics is deemed 'sufficient', though my calligraphy is criticized as 'lacking spirit'.*
*There is a gathering next month—the 'Spring Oration'. All students are expected to present a piece. It is a chance to gain favor with the mentors, but... there is a custom. One must gift a 'token of respect' to the senior scholars. Ink sticks, or tea.*
*I know we have little to spare. Do not worry. I shall use the dried meat Sister-in-law packed. It is... substantial.*
*Your brother,*
*Ming.*
Chen Yuan had read the letter three times. He saw the gap between the lines. *Stratified. Lacking spirit. Token of respect.*
It was the classic trap of the scholarly world. It wasn't enough to be smart; you had to buy your way into the network.
"Ming is trying to save us money," Chen Yuan muttered to Xu Tie, who was riding Whirlwind beside him. "He thinks dried meat is a 'token of respect' for sons of magistrates."
"It is good meat," Xu Tie said defensively.
"It's peasant food to them," Chen Yuan sighed. "If he goes in there with dried meat while others are giving temple incense and Zhejiang ink, he'll be labeled a cheapskate. A country bumpkin. He'll never get the recommendations he needs."
"We need silver."
"We have silver. But we need to spend it right."
---
The town market was bustling. The war had stabilized the prices of some goods, but luxury items were still expensive.
Chen Yuan navigated the streets, ignoring the cloth merchants and heading straight for the "Ink and Paper Pavilion."
He bought two boxes of high-quality pine-soot ink. Not the top tier—that was worth its weight in gold—but a respectable mid-range brand favored by junior officials. It cost him one tael of silver. A painful sum for two small boxes.
"This better buy him a friend," Chen Yuan grumbled, tucking the boxes into his satchel.
His next stop was the "Beast Market."
It wasn't a formal shop, but a corner of the livestock district where traders sold hunting dogs, hawkers sold birds, and the occasional exotic beast changed hands.
Chen Yuan walked past cages of yapping terriers and sleek greyhounds. He didn't need a hunter. He needed a guardian.
"Hey, Boss! Looking for a fast one?" a trader called out, holding a ferret. "Catches rabbits like lightning!"
"I need a dog that can fight a wolf," Chen Yuan said. "And live through a winter outside."
The trader's eyes lit up. "Ah. A guard dog. I have a few. Big brutes."
He led Chen Yuan to a pen at the back.
Inside were three dogs. They were large, mastiff-types, chained to a post. They barked ferociously as Chen Yuan approached.
"Good lungs," the trader said. "Fifty coins each."
Chen Yuan studied them. They were aggressive, yes. But they were also skinny, with patchy fur and dull eyes. They were junkyard dogs, broken by poor treatment.
"They look sick," Chen Yuan said.
"They're just hungry! Feed 'em, they'll be tigers!"
Chen Yuan shook his head. He didn't want a liability.
He was about to leave when he heard a low growl from the shadows behind the trader's wagon.
It wasn't a bark. It was a rumble, like distant thunder.
"What's that?" Chen Yuan asked.
The trader looked uncomfortable. "Oh, that? Nothing. Just a... a rejected mongrel. Ugly as sin. Mean as a snake. I'm taking him to the river to drown him this afternoon."
"Bring him out."
"Boss, I'm telling you, he's dangerous. He bit three of my men. He won't work."
"Bring him out," Chen Yuan repeated, his voice hard. He flipped a silver coin in the air.
The trader caught the coin. Greed won over caution.
"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."
He went behind the wagon and dragged out a heavy iron cage.
Inside sat the ugliest dog Chen Yuan had ever seen.
It was huge. Larger than the mastiffs in the front. Its fur was a messy brindle—black and grey stripes matted with dirt. Its ears were torn, likely from fighting. One eye was scarred over, blind. The other eye was a pale, piercing yellow.
It didn't bark. It just crouched low, hackles raised, teeth bared in a silent snarl.
**[System Analysis: Species: Canis lupus familiaris.]**
**[Breed: Tibetan Mastiff Cross (Highland Giant).]**
**[Age: 3 years.]**
**[Status: Feral. Starving. Trust Level: 0%.]**
**[Trait: 'Loyalty' (Latent). 'Territorial Aggression' (Maximum). 'Pain Resistance' (High).]**
A Tibetan Mastiff cross. In the lowlands, they were rare. This one had likely been brought down by a trader and then discarded when it proved unmanageable.
"How much?" Chen Yuan asked.
"For that beast? Ten coins. Just take it. The cage is worth more than the dog."
"I'll take the dog. Keep the cage."
The trader laughed. "You're a brave man, or a dead one."
He opened the cage door and scrambled back.
The dog didn't run. It exploded out.
It went straight for the nearest target—Xu Tie.
Xu Tie, a soldier who had faced charging cavalry, didn't flinch. He stepped aside, pivoting his body, and brought the flat of his scabbard down hard on the dog's flank.
*Thwack.*
The dog yelped, spun, and snarled, ready to launch again.
"Sit!" Chen Yuan barked, stepping forward.
The dog froze. It looked at Chen Yuan. The yellow eye bore into him.
Chen Yuan didn't look away. He didn't show fear. He projected dominance.
"We are not enemies," Chen Yuan said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that matched the dog's growl. "You are hungry. I have food."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a strip of dried beef. He tossed it on the ground, halfway between them.
The dog sniffed. The smell of the spiced beef was overpowering. It gulped the meat down.
"More," Chen Yuan said. He tossed another strip.
While the dog ate, Chen Yuan walked slowly toward it.
The dog stopped eating. It growled, a low warning.
Chen Yuan stopped. He waited.
"Eat."
The dog ate.
Chen Yuan took another step. And another.
Finally, he stood over the dog. The beast was massive, its head coming up to Chen Yuan's waist.
Chen Yuan reached down, his hand shaking slightly, and placed it on the dog's head.
The dog flinched. It snapped at the air, an inch from Chen Yuan's fingers.
But it didn't bite.
Chen Yuan scratched behind the torn ear.
"You're a warrior," Chen Yuan whispered. "A veteran. Just like us."
The dog stopped growling. It leaned, ever so slightly, into the hand.
**[Trust Level increased to 5%.]**
**[Subject 'Guardian' has accepted Host as temporary Alpha.]**
"Get a rope," Chen Yuan told Xu Tie. "We're taking him home."
---
The return journey was tense.
The dog, whom Chen Yuan had named "General," was tied to the back of the supply cart. He walked with a stiff, proud gait, ignoring the other dogs in the street who barked at him.
When they passed the "House of Lin" brokerage—Steward Wu's headquarters—Chen Yuan noticed a group of men loitering outside.
They weren't laborers. They were thugs, hired muscle.
One of them, a man with a scarred lip, spat on the ground as Chen Yuan passed.
"That's him," Scar-lip muttered. "The one with the bull."
Chen Yuan didn't look directly at them, but he noted their faces.
"They're watching us," Xu Tie said quietly.
"Let them watch," Chen Yuan replied. "They're waiting to see if we stumble. If we get sick. If we run out of feed."
He patted the ink boxes in his satchel.
"We just have to be stronger than their greed."
---
Arriving at the Wasteland, the introduction of General was... chaotic.
The dog saw the goats. He saw the calves. He saw lunch.
He lunged against the rope, barking savagely.
The goats scattered. The calves ran behind Hope.
"Whoa! Control that beast!" Dahu shouted, grabbing a pitchfork.
"Stand down!" Chen Yuan roared. "Everyone stand down!"
He led General to a post near the gate, far from the herd.
"You are not a hunter," Chen Yuan told the dog, crouching down. "You are a guard. Those are *mine*. You protect them. You do not eat them."
The dog whined, confused. His instincts screamed *prey*.
Chen Yuan spent the entire afternoon sitting by the post, feeding General small pieces of meat, conditioning him. Every time the dog looked at the herd with predatory eyes, Chen Yuan gave a sharp command: *"No."*
It was exhausting work. The System helped, projecting calming waves, but the animal was feral. It was a battle of wills.
By evening, General was lying down, his massive head on his paws, exhausted. He was still muzzled, but he was no longer straining at the rope.
"He's a monster," Xu Tie said, watching from a distance. "Are you sure about this?"
"Wolves respect monsters," Chen Yuan said, rubbing his sore wrist where the rope had burned him. "And so do thieves."
---
That night, Chen Yuan sat in the main room, writing a letter to Little Ming.
*Ming,*
*Enclosed are two boxes of 'Pine Soot' ink. Use one for your own practice. Gift the other to the head of the senior scholars during the Spring Oration.*
*Do not be frugal with the 'token'. It is not a bribe; it is a signal. It tells them you understand the rules of the game.*
*As for the oration... write about what you know. The mud. The water. The grass. They have read enough poems about clouds. Give them the earth.*
*The ranch is well. We have a new dog. He is ugly, but he has spirit. We named him General.*
*Study hard. We await your return.*
*Your brother,*
*Yuan.*
He sealed the letter and the ink boxes, handing them to Dahu to take to the morning courier.
He walked outside for a final check before bed.
The moon was bright, illuminating the Wasteland.
Down by the gate, he saw a shadow.
General was standing on top of his doghouse (which was actually just a pile of straw under a tarp). He wasn't sleeping.
He was staring into the darkness of the tree line.
His hackles were up. A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his chest.
He had smelled something.
Chen Yuan looked into the darkness. He saw nothing. But he trusted the dog.
*Something is out there.*
He went back inside and woke Xu Tie.
"Double watch tonight," Chen Yuan whispered. "General smells a predator."
"Wolf?"
"Or something wearing human clothes."