Chapter One: Return to the Dawn of the Great Tang Dynasty

Northwest China, in the coldest season of the year, the twelfth lunar month. The north wind howled like ten thousand galloping horses, coming and going with a furious rush. The chill was sharp as a knife.

Liu Yitiao leaned against the roof of his own house, gazing up at the gray, shrouded sky of this era, letting the biting wind cut through him.

“Father, my brother has been like this for over an hour. Do you think something might have happened?” Liu Ertiao looked anxiously at his elder brother, who sat motionless on the rooftop.

“Sigh, maybe he’s having trouble letting it go. Let him think it through. We can’t afford to cross the Wang family from West Village.” Liu Laoshi sighed deeply, feeling no comfort in his heart seeing his eldest son in such a state. Yet Wang Shuai was truly not someone ordinary folk like them could afford to provoke. His father, Wang Du, served as a bailiff in the county, always gathering cronies about him, wielding considerable influence in the region. Liu Laoshi had no wish to escalate matters.

“But it really was Wang Shuai’s fault. He’s the one who took our white cabbage!” Liu Ertiao’s face was full of indignation. “If Uncle Yang hadn’t stepped in that day, my brother would have been beaten to death by them.”

“Your brother’s all right now, isn’t he? And didn’t Wang Shuai pay a string of silver coins afterward? Let’s let it end here. Don’t mention it again, especially not in front of your brother. After such humiliation, it’s no wonder he’s troubled. But who can he blame for being born into a poor family like ours… Sigh!” Liu Laoshi still wanted to suppress the matter. The less trouble, the better. If Wang Shuai was angered, who knew what further misfortune might follow? But it was his son, Liu Yitiao, who suffered for it.

“I know, Father. But I’m worried about my brother. It’s freezing up there, and he’s still injured.” Liu Ertiao’s worry deepened.

“He’s always been sturdy. A bit of cold won’t harm him. Let him be alone for a while—maybe he’ll figure things out. Go ask your mother to prepare more ginger soup for him. When he comes down, give him some to ward off the chill.”

“Yes, Father. I’ll go now.” With that, Liu Ertiao headed for the kitchen, where his mother, Liu Heshi, was preparing the evening meal.

“Ertiao, your brother’s still not down? Oh, that child, why is he so stubborn? First beaten half to death, and now this… What are we to do?” As she spoke, Liu Heshi began to weep quietly.

“Mother, don’t worry too much. Father says my brother just needs time to get over it. In a few days, he’ll be fine.”

“Your father?” At the mention of Liu Laoshi, Liu Heshi’s anger flared. “Isn’t he to blame for all this? If he weren’t so timid and insisted on suppressing the matter, your brother wouldn’t have had to suffer so much. If your brother doesn’t come around, I’ll never forgive him!”

“Ah…” Liu Ertiao opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end said nothing. He, too, had resented his father’s weakness—if only he’d stood up more forcibly, perhaps his brother’s heart would have found relief. But Liu Laoshi was still their father; what could they say to him?

“Father told me to ask you to make more ginger soup for my brother. When he comes down later, let him drink more to drive out the cold.” The atmosphere in the room was strained, and after a long silence, Liu Ertiao could only repeat his father’s words.

“There’s no need for him to remind me. I’ve had ginger soup warming in the pot for a while now, just waiting for your brother to come down.” Liu Heshi wiped the tears from her eyes and stared blankly through the window at the figure on the roof.

“I’ll go check on my little sister. She always kicks off her quilt, and in this cold, she can’t be left alone.” Seeing nothing more to do, Liu Ertiao found an excuse to slip away.

In the inner room, Liu Xiaohui slept soundly on the bed, her quilt kicked off more than halfway. Liu Ertiao smiled, shaking his head, and gently tucked her in again. These chores had always fallen to his elder brother—who would have thought it would now be his turn.

Sitting on the rooftop, Liu Yitiao, though distant, had overheard the conversation between Liu Laoshi and Liu Ertiao. He gave a bitter smile. What would his father think if he knew his son had truly been beaten to death by Wang Shuai? And how would he feel if he knew the soul in his son's body now belonged to someone else entirely?

Transmigration? The thought chilled Liu Yitiao to the core. While transmigration was a dream for many young and even middle-aged people in the twenty-first century, it was never his desire.

In the twenty-first century, he had someone he loved and who loved him, and a promising career he was passionate about. He hadn’t wanted to come here—not for anything in the world. If he’d had a choice, nothing could have forced him into this strange new world. There, he had a girlfriend waiting for his love, a career to pursue. Here, he had nothing but a name—Liu Yitiao. Was it fate or some cosmic jest that the person he now inhabited bore exactly the same name?

“It’s all because of that damned wild horse. If not for it, I wouldn’t have ended up in this damned world.” Liu Yitiao’s complaints tumbled out as his thoughts drifted back to the time before he crossed over.

“Yitiao, are you sure you want to do this? Even I can’t tame that horse—you mustn’t take such a risk.” Uncle Borjigin Chena asked him again before the attempt.

“Heh, uncle, just wait and see. Today, I’ll show you the student surpassing the master. I will tame that horse.” Liu Yitiao sat astride the horse, brimming with confidence. After three months of horsemanship training with Borjigin Chena, he believed himself more than capable.

“You’re quite something.” Borjigin Chena laughed heartily. Liu Yitiao was the brightest apprentice he’d ever seen. Horse rearing, riding, taming—skills that were challenging even for Mongols—he’d mastered in just three months. For a modern man, that was a miracle. Perhaps he really would surpass his master. “Then I wish you success. And if you succeed, I’ll celebrate with my private stash of mare’s milk wine!”

“Oh?” Liu Yitiao’s mouth watered at the thought. He’d been eyeing those sacks of mare’s milk wine for a long time. “Uncle Borjigin Chena, a Mongol’s word is his bond. Don’t you dare go back on your promise. Hahaha, just wait—I’ll drink every last drop of your wine!”

With that, he cracked his whip and charged ahead. He was fast, but nowhere near the speed of the wild horses. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Borjigin Chena riding alongside on his motorcycle to help intercept the herd, Liu Yitiao would never have caught up, let alone attempted to tame one.

There were twenty-three wild horses in the herd—a number Borjigin Chena had confirmed from previous attempts. In an era when cars and motorcycles roamed the steppes, such large wild herds were increasingly rare. When Borjigin Chena first saw them, he could hardly believe his eyes and had chased them for two days and nights out of excitement. Only after confirming they belonged to no one did he leave them alone, but he never let them out of his sight since.

He had no intention of taming them all. What he wanted was their wildness—the excellent genetic stock within these wild horses. He’d already released five mares into the herd, and now their bellies were visibly swollen. In a few days, when he brought them back, his goal would be achieved.

A natural breeding herd—Borjigin Chena could already envision countless fine horses emerging from this group.

Liu Yitiao stood in the stirrups, one hand clutching the reins, the other swinging a lasso. “Three Loops to Catch the Moon”—an ancient method for capturing wild horses, far superior to tranquilizer guns or traps of the modern era. Horses tamed this way were forever loyal to their master and obeyed only one person. So Borjigin Chena had told him, igniting his desire to try for himself.

But trouble followed swiftly.

The horse Liu Yitiao chose was the very one Borjigin Chena had failed to tame before—a black stallion with compact bones and perfectly aligned muscles. In Borjigin Chena’s expert eyes, it was a true steed, perhaps one in a thousand.

Liu Yitiao’s “Three Loops to Catch the Moon” was precise—on his first try, the lasso landed on the black horse’s neck. He shot a triumphant glance at Borjigin Chena; after all, hadn’t his uncle warned that this method took years to master, and not to expect too much? Yet he’d succeeded in one attempt.

His triumph lasted only seconds.

The black horse reacted violently, never having experienced such restraint. The moment the rope tightened, it bolted in a frenzy, ignoring even the roar of Borjigin Chena’s motorcycle.

Borjigin Chena kept close behind. Taming a horse was never immediate; with the rope around its neck, exhaustion would eventually bring submission—this he knew from a lifetime with horses.

It was all about endurance.

The horse would be dragged until it could run no more. In the art of taming, stamina was everything.

Liu Yitiao tore across the plain with the wild horse, the rushing wind forcing his eyes nearly shut.

Such speed.

Liu Yitiao was awed. This truly was a legendary steed.

But could the horse beneath him endure to the end?

He began to consider whether to leap across. Only by jumping onto the black stallion’s back could he truly tame it.

Borjigin Chena grew anxious. His motorcycle was at its limit, barely keeping pace with the black horse. The horse Liu Yitiao rode was flagging, unable to last much longer, while the black stallion still surged with energy.

If Liu Yitiao’s horse failed, or if he mistimed the jump, Borjigin Chena dared not imagine the consequences.

He cursed himself for not buying a better motorcycle.

“Yitiao! Let go! At this speed, you’ll never make the jump!” Borjigin Chena shouted from behind. Falling from such a height and speed would mean certain injury or worse.

But Liu Yitiao seemed not to hear. Eyes narrowed, every muscle taut with excitement, he stared ahead at the black stallion.

Conquest.

That was his only thought.

At last, braving the resistless wind and the threat of grave injury, Liu Yitiao jumped.

Gripping the rope, stepping off the horse’s back, he vaulted through the air.

To Borjigin Chena’s astonishment, Liu Yitiao succeeded! In a flash, he landed on the black stallion’s back.

But in that instant of success, the rope snapped.

The lasso that had held the black stallion broke just as he landed. In shock, Liu Yitiao tumbled from the horse’s back, only to be struck again by another horse charging behind at full speed.

After that, Liu Yitiao knew nothing more.