Chapter One: Father, Let’s Start a Rebellion Together!

"What the—where is this?"

Chu Feng opened his eyes and glanced around at the ancient-style furnishings, as well as the clothes he wore, so different from those of later generations.

He winced as memories stabbed his mind. Wasn’t he just writing at his desk a moment ago? Though he was well-versed in history, it was said that in this era, only by spinning tales to fool the dogged readers could one earn a living, so he’d been writing whatever nonsense came to mind.

But how had he suddenly ended up in this place?

"Did I… travel through time?"

Clang!

At the door, a young maid dropped her wooden basin, spilling warm water across the floor as she ran, shouting that the young master had awoken.

"Young master?" Chu Feng muttered.

He looked around the spacious room again; treasures were displayed in the distance, clearly not the home of common folk.

He didn’t know what dynasty this was.

Just as he rose, the maid returned, head lowered, with two others in tow.

He vaguely recognized the elderly man—he was the one who cared for "him" daily. As for the middle-aged man, he had no idea; his memories were too fragmented.

This made Chu Feng wonder if the original owner of this body had been mentally deficient.

"Young master, you’ve only just recovered from a grave illness. How can you get out of bed?" The old man hurried over to support Chu Feng. Whether his concern was real or feigned, at least the master of the house was present.

"No need. I’m fine."

The old man froze, surprise flickering in his eyes.

In a doubtful tone, he called, "Young master, your illness… has it truly healed?"

Chu Feng rolled his eyes.

He glanced down at his own body—it seemed perfectly healthy. At least he was well-nourished and hadn’t suffered hunger. What illness could there be?

"Feng’er, do you know who I am?" the middle-aged man asked, a trace of shock in his voice, his urgency barely concealed.

Chu Feng looked at the man in fine robes, whose anxious face was sallow from excess. Honestly, his body’s memories didn’t recall who this was, but judging by the man’s urgency, he was most likely…

"You’re… my father?"

Chu Feng’s voice was a little awkward, but considering he’d have to rely on this convenient father from now on, he chose to accept it.

The middle-aged man trembled.

After all these years, this was the first time his son had called him father.

This was his eldest son, though the boy’s mother had died early, and he’d suffered from an imbecilic ailment. The father had sent Chu Feng away to live under his mother’s surname. He owed both mother and son a great debt.

"Feng’er, it’s been twenty years. I never expected that a stroke of misfortune would cure your ailment. As your father, I am overjoyed!"

The middle-aged man applauded and spoke in a booming voice.

"Imbecilic ailment?" Chu Feng thought. Was the previous owner truly an idiot?

"Feng’er, since you’re recovered, rest well. I’ll come see you when I have time," the middle-aged man said, turning to the old man. "Li Weng, take good care of the young master!"

"Yes, old servant understands!"

Chu Feng hesitated, then called out, "Father, what year, month, and place is it now?"

Li Bo glanced at the middle-aged man, then replied a bit louder, with pride. "Young master, this is the State of Chen, and the city is Shouchun, the capital. The era name is the first year of Zhongshi. It is now the third month of spring."

Chu Feng was stunned.

The State of Chen? The Southern Chen? But the capital wasn’t Shouchun!

But then, with a jolt, he blurted, "The first year of Zhongshi? Shouchun? Isn’t that the capital of that scoundrel Yuan Shu?"

Though Chu Feng muttered to himself, his voice was clear enough. Cold sweat streamed down Li Bo’s forehead.

Young master, must you always shock people with your words?

The middle-aged man’s brow furrowed; the joy on his face faded.

"Master, perhaps the young master’s illness is not fully cured," Li Bo said tightly. "Young master, you mustn’t speak recklessly. With the master’s protection, you are safe anywhere."

These words made Chu Feng even more uncomfortable.

Having a poor background was one thing, but this identity was quite privileged—yet he was stuck under Yuan Shu, and at the time when Yuan Shu had declared himself emperor.

He was as good as dead.

Chu Feng realized he’d spoken out of turn and was just thinking how to explain himself when a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

"The Traitorous Hero System is binding."

"Binding successful. Given the host’s dire circumstances, a beginner’s gift will be issued to help you survive and become the strongest Traitorous Hero!"

"1. Make up an excuse to cover your mistake—reward: 500 hu of grain."

"2. Continue speaking about the current situation—reward: the Courage of the Conqueror. Please choose!"

A system? Chu Feng, as a writer, was all too familiar with this trope.

But what was this Traitorous Hero System? Was it here to help him dominate the realm, especially by targeting others and their wives?

Never mind that. Picking a reward came first. He probably wasn’t short of food, but the Courage of the Conqueror was legendary—invincible in battle except for the final one.

He made his choice without hesitation.

Afterward, Chu Feng gathered his thoughts. "Father, how many retainers does our family have?"

The middle-aged man hesitated. "Roughly over a thousand."

"So many?" Chu Feng’s eyes lit up. With over a thousand retainers, his family was at least a great local clan, probably holding high office under Yuan Shu.

He recalled that Yuan Shu would soon be deserted by his followers, each man carving out his own territory. Shouldn’t he prepare as well?

"Father, the world is in chaos. Why don’t we, father and son, build our strength and rebel?" Chu Feng stroked his chin, proposing his idea.

The middle-aged man was taken aback, then his eyes widened with anger. Li Bo nearly fell to his knees in terror, inwardly wailing.

Young master, where did you hit your head? Should we have you fall again?

"Rebel?" The middle-aged man’s face darkened, suppressing his rage. "Feng’er, do you also believe Yuan Shu is without virtue and should be overthrown? Or has someone put you up to this?"

A faint pressure radiated from him, his anger mounting. He suspected someone had instigated Chu Feng to say such treasonous words.

Could it have been Cao Cao? Yuan Shao?

Or even Lü Bu or Sun Ce?

The more he thought, the angrier he became. How could the descendants of servants, bastards, or eunuchs dare vie with him?

"Father, I know Yuan Shu inside and out. Who needs to be told? He’s useless, thinking only of drinking honeyed water all day. How could he be virtuous?"

Chu Feng curled his lip, grumbling inwardly.

He had read the histories of the Three Kingdoms to exhaustion. As for Yuan Shu, only in later generations had some readers, fooled by marketing accounts and authors, come to think highly of him.

In governing, the people suffered.

In war, he only lost.

In leadership, he was deserted by all.

Even his domains, when he declared himself emperor, amounted to just three commanderies—less than Cao Cao, Yuan Shao, or even Lü Bu.

Put plainly, if not for his surname, he’d be nothing.

Hearing this, his father’s face twitched uncontrollably.

He had felt a pang of guilt before, but now he only wanted to strangle this unfilial son—his first act upon recovery was to suggest patricide and usurpation?

What a devoted child!

For he was none other than the Skeleton King, Yuan Shu himself.

From the most illustrious Yuan family of the Eastern Han, and a direct heir at that—the other being Yuan Shao, whom he held in contempt.

PS: This novel follows the official history, drawing from historical sources as much as possible, striving not to mislead readers.

And at its core lies the "Martial Legacy of Wei."