Chapter 1: Beggar’s Tears in the Pujimen Temple
In the vast Seven Realms Continent, nestled in its heart lies the grand nation of Donglong. It is wintertime, and the sprawling lands are blanketed in snow, glimmering in a silver sheen.
Jingyang Province, located in the southeastern part of Donglong, is a place of breathtaking beauty and has been a beacon of prosperity throughout the ages. The saying “Tai Capital in the North, Jingyang in the South” refers to the splendor of the northern Tai Capital and the southern Jingyang Province, both shining like twin stars anchoring the north and south of the nation.
Tai Capital, as the seat of power, teems with nobility and grandeur. Compared to its majesty, Jingyang is akin to a secluded maiden—delicate and enchanting.
Despite the passing of countless emperors and the storms of history, Jingyang’s radiance has never faded. When people speak of Jingyang, they inevitably associate it with beauty, romance, and fine wine. As a timeless land of elegance and indulgence, it draws scholars and poets year-round, lured by its charms into a world of revelry.
Yet, even in such a flourishing place, there are those less fortunate—people brought low by life’s hardships, reduced to begging, scraping for food and surviving without dignity.
To the east of Luofeng City, a corner of Jingyang Province, there lies a dilapidated temple. Beneath layers of dust on its battered entrance, the words Pujimen Temple can faintly be discerned. This temple has become home to a group of ragged, destitute beggars eking out a meager existence.
“Your turn to beg today—why are you still lying there?” A middle-aged beggar kicked a frail, dirty-haired youth lying nearby.
The boy stirred, muttering as if in a dream, “A gentleman should not accept alms in disgrace…”
His words, half-dream, half-murmur, immediately drew bursts of laughter from the surrounding beggars, their mockery dripping with sarcasm.
Embarrassed by the ridicule, the middle-aged beggar kicked harder. The boy jolted awake, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll go now, I’ll go now!” He patted the shoulder of a companion sleeping nearby, then shuffled toward the temple’s entrance.
Inside Pujimen Temple, chaos reigned. The beggars warmed themselves with poor-quality firewood, the air thick with acrid smoke and odors. Yet for these wretches, it was a haven, a place where they could sleep without fear of scorn.
Outside, the wind howled and snow blanketed the ground. The boy and his companion wrapped their thin, tattered garments tighter and trudged slowly toward the city.
“Hyah! Hyah! Out of the way!” A group of mounted riders stormed through the city gates, their leader lashing the boy aside with a whip. The lash tore through his skin, leaving his arm bloodied and throbbing with pain in the freezing air.
“Are you okay, Lu Sheng?” his companion asked, concern etched on his face.
The boy’s name was Lu Sheng. Abandoned as a baby, he was found by the middle-aged beggar, Old Wang, who took him in. Most called Wang “Old Dog,” and by extension, they mocked Lu Sheng as “Pup.” But his companion, Zhu Xin, always called him by name, one of the reasons Lu Sheng valued his friendship so deeply. Like Lu Sheng, Zhu Xin had lost his parents young and had no one else to rely on.
To Lu Sheng, Zhu Xin was his most trusted friend—the only one who truly listened to him.
Clutching his wounded arm, Lu Sheng stood, biting his lip. “Why is the world so full of bullies who prey on the weak and fear the strong? If heaven is just, why are people so unequal? No, the heavens must be blind. I’ll place my faith in myself alone. So long as I live, I will make fairness reign in this world.”
Many might scoff at such lofty words from a beggar boy, but they could not help but admire his resolve. Despite his lowly origins, Lu Sheng harbored ambitions far beyond the confines of Pujimen Temple. While others begged aimlessly, Lu Sheng sought knowledge, eavesdropping on scholars toiling over books. Over time, he absorbed fragments of wisdom, though he had no one to share it with.
“A gentleman must strive tirelessly for self-improvement,” Lu Sheng often reminded himself and Zhu Xin.
Still, lofty aspirations did not fill an empty stomach. Survival came first, and today, failure to return with food would surely earn them a beating.
Thus, with Zhu Xin’s help, Lu Sheng knocked on door after door, pleading for scraps. But winter was no season for charity. Wealthy households kept their gates firmly shut, and their stewards met the beggars with scorn—or worse, unleashed savage dogs.
At last, Lu Sheng found himself before the imposing gates of the Li Estate, an opulent mansion owned by Li Nantian, a merchant magnate renowned throughout Luofeng City.
A chorus of barking erupted from within. As the guard feeding the estate’s ferocious hounds turned to investigate, Lu Sheng recognized him as the very man who had whipped him at the gate.
“Well, well,” the guard sneered, picking up a feeding bowl and tossing it at Lu Sheng’s feet.
Under normal circumstances, Lu Sheng would have accepted the scraps, bowing and expressing his gratitude. But today, pride and indignation flared within him.
“You whipped me this morning and now offer me dog food to atone? Heaven sees all and will judge justly. I refuse to accept such disgraceful charity!”
The guard’s face darkened. “You ungrateful brat!” He raised his fist, ready to strike—
“Stop!”
A voice rang out from within the estate, silencing the guard. It belonged to none other than Li Mengyun, the young lady of the Li family. Though she remained hidden, her commanding presence filled the air.
“I hear the woodshed needs another hand,” she said. “Take him there.”
Thus, Lu Sheng’s life took a turn. But as he knelt to express his gratitude, he made one more request: that his companion Zhu Xin join him.
Impressed by his loyalty, Li Mengyun consented, setting in motion the next chapter of their lives—a journey toward dignity and purpose, even in the face of overwhelming odds.