The young man heard his cry and reluctantly lifted his head, his golden pupils devoid of any human emotion.

He calmly looked at the boy crying in the cell, his face expressionless, his voice low, "So noisy."

"Brother, brother, it’s me, Yuan... Brother!? Brother, have you forgotten me?" The boy, seeing the young man’s expression, felt a sinking feeling in his heart and cried out even more urgently, ignoring the pain in his throat, stubbornly calling out for his brother.

"Junzhuo, Liuyu, Chenyuan, these are our names, have you forgotten?"

"Yuan...?"

The young man murmured to himself, feeling that this name was so familiar.

His mind was filled with the clashing of swords, schemes and plots. Finally, in the deepest, deepest corner, he found that bit of memory. He remembered, the boy was his brother, Wei Chenyuan.

But, even if he remembered, so what? His heart still didn’t feel anything, his brother was just like a stranger’s title to him.

The young man also found it strange, why did he feel no ripples in his heart, seeing his brother crying so miserably?

In fact, he felt a bit irritated.

"Wei Junzhuo, you did well this time, leading only two thousand navy troops to break through the five thousand stronghold of Baiyue, and even captured their Young Clan Leader alive. Truly a good general esteemed by me," said someone.

A young man clad in a Dragon Robe walked in from further outside, his eyes a gentle glaze color, his voice magnetic, with a hint of temptation.

The young man replied, "The Emperor overpraises me. If Your Majesty gives me five more years, I will surely be able to completely subdue Baiyue."

"Good! I’m waiting for that day."

"By the way, the Baiyue Clan Leader wants to marry his granddaughter to you, but I have declined for you. You won’t be displeased, will you?" the man asked with a smile.

The young man shook his head, stood up from the ground, and struggled to kneel before the man, "Everything of mine is at Your Majesty’s disposal."

"Very good," the man smiled satisfactorily, retrieving a cloth pouch from his sleeve, which, when unwrapped, revealed glistening silver needles.

"Come, come closer. I will personally heal your wounds. These silver needles contain a new medicine developed by the witch doctor, said to stop bleeding by inhibiting blood flow. It will sting a bit, so endure. I know you’re injured, and this is our only supply of the medicine."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the young man replied blandly, moving his knees, dragging a long trail of blood across the ground until he reached the man’s side.

"No... don’t..."

The boy in the cell watched this scene, his eyes nearly splitting from distress, murmuring because his previous shouting had left his throat too hoarse to make much sound. Even his low whispers were filled with a tearing pain.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! I want it too," the boy suddenly mustered all his strength and screamed hysterically, "Yuan isn’t afraid of pain! Your Majesty, I have too many injuries, they’re bleeding... I will surely die, I don’t want to die, Your Majesty, please, please use the needles on me first!"

The noise was too jarring, the man frowned, looking at the boy, "I almost forgot, there’s a little one."

He pondered, the amusement in his eyes growing richer, his pale pupils deepening like intoxicating wine, each word teased nonchalantly:

"Little Yuan, are you really not afraid of pain?"

The boy nodded excitedly, his face beaming with a bright smile.

His dark golden eyes, within the dim dungeon, appeared as charming, beautiful amber, his hoarse voice filled with flattery, "Not afraid, Your Majesty, I’m not afraid at all, I can certainly do better than my brother, truly!

Please, let me try those medicines."

The young man silently shifted his gaze, looked at the smiling boy, and lowered his head in confusion.

Why did he feel sad?

...

"Little brother, when we get on the battlefield later, stay close to me. The Emperor only wants you to observe the battlefield. I won’t be fighting either, you must stay by my side so I can ensure your safety,"

The young man carefully advised the boy in front of him, who wasn’t even as tall as his waist. Despite his gentle tone, his golden eyes still bore no emotion.

The young man knew the boy was his brother, even though he didn’t feel affection or like him, he still needed to watch over the child.

This was the Emperor’s order.

Around, the soldiers discreetly glanced at the brothers, especially the child who looked only five or six years old.

Even for the young general before them, he was at least ten when he first went to the battlefield, but here they were, taking a child who had not yet lost all his baby teeth?