Pursuit of the Truth - Chapter 1032: Mask of Cessation

The youngest, silly fourteenth son of the Yan Emperor had reached the age where he should be given a separated territory now. He rejected the wealthy land, neighbouring the capital city, and instead chose the wildest land in the western region— Liangcheng. Everyone shook their heads and sighed. A fool is indeed a fool. If you go to Liangcheng, you will be killed by barbarians in less than three to five years.

One year later, the watermelon presented to the Emperor as the tribute from Liangcheng in the west was sweet and crispy. There was no one in the palace who did not love it.

Two years later, Liangcheng presented corn as a tribute to the Emperor. The yield was high, and the taste was good. No one in the country could resist liking it.

Three years later, Liangcheng defeated the barbarians and presented their prisoners in front of the imperial court. The people of Yan were excited and their morale was greatly boosted.

Four years later… Everyone said that the fourteenth prince Mingyu was a fool, while the little fatty Yu, who transmigrated with the golden finger, chuckled. Let’s see how you guys look at this fool build his own territory, then.

- Description from Novelupdates

Are you humiliated by being attacked?

Are you sorrowful to be a stepping stone?

As a cannon fodder hanging in two episodes, are you unwilling?

Don’t worry, I am here!

As the only system supplier of All Heavens and Myriad Realms System Shop, I can make a variety of portable systems for you, and let you reach the peak of your life!

Boy, it’s time to raise your eyebrows!

Boy, it’s time to counter-attack!

- Description from Novelupdates

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.