At 100 years old, he joined the army in place of his granddaughter, and became a national war god.

At the village entrance, a large crowd gathered.

Dozens of captured laborers squatted on the ground, their faces ashen, their hands and feet bound together with hemp rope, like a string of grasshoppers tied together.

There were young people and teenagers.

A centurion in iron armor, mounted on a tall horse, looked down at the group of "new recruits" with a furrowed brow.

This time, the quota assigned to him by the higher authorities was fifty able-bodied men.

But after searching three villages, he could only gather less than forty people, including the old and the young.

"Village Chief!" The centurion cracked his whip, his voice booming like thunder. "Is everyone here? If even one person is missing, your whole family will have to take their place!"

The village chief, a thin old man in his fifties, was so frightened by the shout that his legs cramped, and he scrambled down to count the number of people.

One household, two households, three households...

His hands were trembling, his mouth was quivering, and he counted three times, but the result was always the same.

One less household.

"Reporting to the general," the village chief said, forcing himself to step forward, his voice barely audible, "There's one household missing, but their situation is unusual. There are no young people in the family, only a centenarian and a twelve-year-old girl..."

"What did you say?" The centurion's eyes widened, and he jumped off his horse, grabbing the village chief by the collar and lifting him up. "Are you trying to teach this general how to do things?"

The village chief's face turned a deep shade of liver, and he kicked his legs wildly, stammering, "No... I wouldn't dare..."

"Orders from above: every household must send one able-bodied man!" The centurion shoved the village chief to the ground, spitting in his face. "Go and grab that little girl. She has to take his place, even if she's disguised as a man! Otherwise, you'll be the one to take her place!"

When the village chief heard that he was to take the lead, he turned pale with fright.

He knew it all too well.

In this day and age, joining the army is tantamount to suicide!

The Great Qian Dynasty had been established for over three hundred years, and it was rotten to the core.

In the capital, treacherous officials held power, selling official positions and titles, creating a chaotic and corrupt atmosphere in the court.

The emperor spent all his time hiding in the inner palace, concocting elixirs of immortality, and even skipped the morning court sessions.

The regional princes were restless, holding their own armies and disregarding the imperial court.

With internal strife raging, how can they possibly attend to the borders?

The Northern Barbarians seized this opportunity, and 300,000 cavalrymen marched south, burning, killing, and looting along the way, as if they were in an empty land.

Qingzhou Prefecture has already fallen to the enemy.

When the Northern Barbarians crossed the border, they killed anyone they saw, regardless of gender or age.

A few days ago, a troop of Northern Di cavalry swept through the neighboring Wangjiagou village. Of the more than two hundred people in the village, less than twenty survived.

Some of the dead civilians were beheaded, some were disemboweled, and some were burned alive in their houses.

That's terrible.

In a situation like this, who would want to be the sucker?

The village chief dusted himself off and staggered back into the village.

I had only taken a few steps when I bumped into someone.

"Village chief, there's no need for you to go. I'll do it myself."

The village chief looked up and was stunned.

It is a Sumu.

He stood on the village road, hunched over, wearing a coarse cloth garment covered in patches, his white hair disheveled by the wind.

He leaned on a gleaming cane, his whole body so thin he looked like a withered twig, as if a gust of wind could blow him apart.

"Uncle Su, you..." The village chief opened his mouth, but secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

With Su Mu here, those military officers won't bother him anymore.

Su Mu didn't look at him, but walked straight forward a few steps, his cloudy old eyes looking at the centurion on horseback.

"Sir, you're looking for my family, don't make things difficult for the others."

His voice was hoarse, but he spoke each word clearly and distinctly.

"I'll take my family's place in the army."

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence around him.

Then came a deafening burst of wild laughter.

"Hahahaha!"

A scarred soldier laughed so hard he almost fell over, pointing at Su Mu and shouting, "Old man, how old are you? Are you eighty yet?"

Su Mu answered slowly, "Exactly one hundred!"

"A hundred years old!" Scarface laughed even harder, slapping his thigh. "You can barely walk straight, and you still want to join the army? What are you going to use to kill the Northern Barbarians? That cane of yours?"

"Hey, don't say that," the third soldier chimed in seriously. "The old man has lived to such an old age; he might have some special skills."

"For example, he used his silver tongue to verbally abuse those barbarians from the Northern Di."

Several soldiers laughed so hard they were doubled over, and even the centurion couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

The conscripted laborers and onlookers around were whispering amongst themselves.

"This old man Su, he's over a hundred years old, what's he doing here?"

"That's right. I heard that his son and daughter-in-law were killed by the Northern Di people five years ago, leaving him with only his granddaughter."

"What a tragedy! If he went to the army, he probably wouldn't even survive a day."

"Sigh, in this world, where can you find justice? The government only cares about arresting people, regardless of age. Anyone who can still breathe is sent to their death!"

"My son is only fourteen years old, and he's been arrested too. My heart is breaking... it feels like it's being torn apart."

"Stop talking, stop talking. If those soldiers hear us, we'll all be in trouble."

In the crowd, an old man wiped away his tears and muttered softly, "Old Su is risking his own life to save his granddaughter's, but what good are these old bones of his? It's all for nothing..."

"Besides, they wouldn't accept him as a soldier."

Su Mu heard every word of these words.

A hundred-year-old's ears shouldn't be working so well.

But the effects of the Brain Rejuvenation Pill were still in effect, and he could hear more clearly than anyone else.

But he didn't turn around.

His withered hands gripped his cane tightly, and his hunched back straightened.

"Sir," Su Mu raised his head and calmly looked at the centurion, "Although I am old and frail, I still have the strength to meet your requirements."

The centurion chuckled and jumped off his horse, his armor clanking loudly.

He walked up to Su Mu and looked down at the old man who was barely up to his chest.

"You still have strength?" The centurion poked Su Mu's shoulder with his index finger. The shoulder was so thin it was just bones; you could feel the ridges even through his clothes. "You can barely stand, and you still have strength?"

"Old man, you have to consider the occasion before you brag."

"I've killed people on the battlefield for ten years, and I've seen at least eight thousand, if not ten thousand, soldiers."

Someone like you isn't even qualified to be cannon fodder.

"Get out of my way, let your granddaughter come. Don't waste my time."

Su Mu was not angry.

Having lived for a hundred years, what unpleasant things hasn't he heard? What disdain hasn't he endured?

He remained calm and composed, offering a slight bow:

"Then I'll make a bet with the military officer."

"A bet?" The centurion became interested. "Sure, I'd like to see what tricks you old man can pull in front of me."

He shoved the knife into the ground, crossed his arms, and asked, "What are we betting on?"

Su Mu raised his withered hand and pointed tremblingly to the old locust tree at the village entrance.

There, there was a large bronze cauldron.

The cauldron is mottled and covered with green rust, indicating it is at least a hundred years old.

This is an old object used in village rituals; it is extremely heavy, so no one has ever moved it even an inch.

"Sir,"

"If I can lift that bronze cauldron, I will take my family's spot. Please don't make things difficult for my granddaughter."

After he finished speaking, the entire room fell silent.

Everyone's eyes followed Su Mu's finger and looked at the bronze cauldron.

Then there was another burst of laughter.

"puff--"

Scarface couldn't hold back and laughed so hard he squatted down on the ground.

"Hahahaha!"

"Old man, do you know how heavy that cauldron is?"

"A thousand catties! A thousand catties!"

"I've really seen something today. A man over a hundred years old is lifting a cauldron weighing a thousand catties!"

"This is the funniest joke I've ever heard in my life!"

The centurion laughed too, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Old man, do you know what a thousand jin (500 kg) means?"

He pointed to himself: "I've been in the army for ten years, and I can lift 400 jin (200 kg), which makes me a top-notch strongman."

He then pointed to the soldiers behind him:

"Those few, being able to lift two or three hundred pounds is already quite good."

"You're a centenarian, you can't even walk steadily, you sway in the wind, and you want to lift a thousand pounds?"

"Are you tired of living and want to meet the King of Hell sooner?"

The villagers who were watching were also in an uproar.

"Has Old Man Su gone mad? That cauldron must weigh at least a thousand catties!"

"As people get older, their minds become less sharp. He was probably pushed to the limit and is talking nonsense."

"Sigh, it's pathetic. If they weren't driven to the brink, who would have come up with such a method?"

"He may be pitiful, but this bet is outrageous. If he can't lift it, do you think those military officers will let him off the hook?"

Among the crowd, some villagers were so anxious they were stamping their feet:

"Grandpa Su, how could you be so foolish! Those soldiers are ruthless; they'll kill people without hesitation. Isn't he just courting death?"

The surrounding chatter buzzed like flies, but Su Mu paid no attention.

He stood there, his withered hand gripping his cane, staring intently at the centurion.

"Sir," Su Mu's voice remained calm and unhurried, "do you dare to make the bet?"

The centurion stared at him for three seconds.

Then he threw his head back and laughed.

"Hahaha! Good! Good! Good!"

"Old man, if you can lift this cauldron today, I, Han Bao, will not only let you join the army, but I'll also kneel down and kowtow three times to you, calling you 'Grandpa' three times!"

He abruptly stopped smiling, a cold glint flashing in his eyes:

"If you can't lift it, this knife of mine doesn't have eyes."

"Okay, it's a deal." Su Mu said, loosening his cane.

The cane fell to the ground with a "thud," and his hunched body, without support, swayed twice, as if he were about to fall over at any moment.

Those around held their breath in suspense, and several villagers even turned their heads away, unable to bear to look.

Su Mu did not fall.

He strode toward the bronze cauldron.

Everyone was watching him.

Some mocked, some sympathized, some felt sorry for him, and some watched with amusement.

"If he can lift that cauldron, I'll do a handstand and poop right here!"

"Yeah! If he can lift it, I'll eat your shit!"

"You two shouldn't speak too confidently, what if?"

"What if? Hahaha! I'd believe you if you said what if he fell and died, but what if he lifted him up? Impossible!"

Laughter rose and fell, one wave higher than the next.

Su Mu walked up to the bronze cauldron.

The bronze cauldron, not much shorter than him, was covered with incomprehensible inscriptions, and its four legs were deeply embedded in the soil.

A behemoth weighing a thousand pounds!

Su Mu stood in front of the cauldron, his figure pitifully thin.

He bent down, stretching out his withered hands.

Those hands, withered, yellow, and with bulging veins, ten fingers like withered branches, gripped the bottom edge of the bronze cauldron.

Su Mu took a deep breath.

Inside his chest, his aged heart was pounding.

It wasn't because I was afraid, it was because I hadn't felt this way for so long.

"rise--"

Su Mu gave a low shout.

His hunched back suddenly tensed up!

Then, with a whoosh!

The enormous bronze cauldron was lifted off the ground.

Like an old tree uprooted, the thousand-pound bronze cauldron was lifted above the head by a pair of withered, brittle hands!

The autumn sunlight filtered through the cauldron, casting a golden glow on Su Mu's full head of white hair.

He stood there, holding the tripod in one hand, as steady as Mount Tai.

Everyone was stunned.

A centenarian lifted a bronze tripod weighing 1,000 jin (500 kg).

Putting these two things together should have been absurd, ridiculous, and impossible.

But right now, it's happening right before everyone's eyes, truly and undeniably.

The wind blew past the village entrance, swirling up fallen leaves all over the ground.

Su Mu's white hair fluttered in the wind, and his tattered robes rustled in the wind.

His figure was still so thin, hunched, and aged. Against the backdrop of that bronze cauldron, this centenarian, nearing the end of his life, looked like a war god who had walked out of ancient times.

The entire room fell into a deathly silence.

The centurion, Scarface, and the surrounding soldiers, the village chief, the conscripted laborers, and the onlookers...

Everyone was as if they had been choked, unable to utter a single word.

Their eyes were wide open, like copper bells.

The scars on the centurion's face were twitching.

He fought for ten years, saw fierce generals, strongmen, and countless scenes that terrified him.

But he had never seen a hundred-year-old man lift a bronze cauldron weighing a thousand pounds.