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Indeed, the meal was tasty.

Soon, dinner was over.

The maid cleaned away the dishes and served tea.

Yang Wenxiao leisurely tasted his tea. However, it lacked the refreshing aroma, leaving a bland taste in his mouth.

“Miss Qiao, who are the members of your household?” Yang Wenxiao began to inquire about Xiaomai’s situation.

Of course, he had already investigated all of this thoroughly. His present line of inquiry was just to dispel the persistent melancholy in his heart.

Years ago, when Gu Yu broke the alliance and went north, the Yang Family troops he led were fiercely attacked by the enemy. As the commander, an arrow struck him just below the heart, posing a grave threat to his life.

Thinking he was on his deathbed, a master from outside the camp brought him a bowl of steaming rice.

Each grain of rice was shimmering under the candlelight, each as radiant as a gem.

The intoxicating aroma was extremely rich, pervading the whole camp as soon as he opened the food box.

The master who delivered the rice said that if he ate the rice, his injury would heal.

At that time, he was already semi-conscious, his mind clouded. However, the moment the bowl of rice appeared, his chaotic mind cleared somewhat.

He could tell from its appearance alone that the rice was extraordinary.

Struggling and enduring severe pain, he finished the entire bowl of rice, mouthful by mouthful.

Then, something miraculous happened.

The wound beneath his heart, one that could have taken his life, was healed.

It was healed.

His skin was as flawless as a newborn baby’s, as if he had never been injured.

He immediately rushed out of the camp, intending to find the mysterious benefactor.

He was also skilled in martial arts and could be considered strong; however, he couldn’t find the person. All he found was an arrow.

But this time, the arrow wasn’t aimed at him, it was embedded in the ground beside him.

Tied to the arrow was a note.

The note was written in scrawly handwriting, as if a three-year-old child had written it.

The script was ugly, yet eerily familiar.

At one glance, he recognized who the writing belonged to.

He didn’t care to read the content of the note, tearing his gaze from it to wildly search for the writer.

Unfortunately, despite circling around the camp numerous times, he came back with nothing.

In the end, he reluctantly returned to his tent, staring blankly at the empty food box and the coarse ceramic bowl for a long time, only trying to read the note when dawn was breaking.

The note was a prescription.

A prescription for making gunpowder.

Gunpowder, something he had never heard about before.

The writer explained this divine weapon in a mystical manner, suggesting that with it, the world could be easily conquered.

He ordered his people to study it carefully. After spending significant time and losing several men in its study and trials, they finally succeeded in creating this divine weapon.

Just like the note’s writer had written, relying on this divine weapon, his Yang Family army was invincible. They advanced triumphantly breaking through borders and beheading enemies along the way.

While Gu Yu decided to go north, he chose to head southward.

The writer had bestowed this divine weapon upon him, and he intended to reciprocate.

There would be no contention. He wouldn’t vie with Gu Yu.

However, that good-for-nothing Gu Yu, even though he managed to enter Capital City, was driven out by Fu Xuan, trapped in Qingyi Manor!

Upon hearing this, he personally led ten thousand cavalrymen to the north to rescue him.

But Daqi was too vast, even if he traveled day and night non-stop, he would be too late to reach the manor. Before he could get there, news from the front arrived.

Qingyi Manor, was lost.

Gu Yu, had fallen in battle.

Fallen in battle. Gu Yu had actually fallen in battle, even with the godlike weapon, gunpowder, at his disposal!

The incompetent fool!