Three Kingdoms: Start by buying a governor.

"He traveled everywhere practicing medicine, calling himself a great sage; he wrapped himself in a yellow turban and died before the heavens."

War rages across the land, but only the common people can live in peace.

...

With a single command, heaven and earth tremble; the year of Jiazi brings forth a raging torrent.

The Way of Peace stands where the poor live; the nine-section staff strikes the cold water with talismans.

After reciting the poem, he gazed at the night sky and seemed to see a figure in the clouds—wearing a yellow turban and holding a nine-section staff, none other than the Great Teacher Zhang Jiao.

The figure seemed to be saying: "Dreams can drive the people, and the people will propel the times... I am Zhang Jiao, the great and wise teacher... I have shown all the people what the dream of peace is... Dreams can drive the people, and the people will propel the times, even if I die here... the times will not stand still..."

Liu Ce stared blankly until the illusion dissipated.

He didn't know if this was his imagination or if Zhang Jiao's spirit had truly appeared.

But he knew that Zhang Jiao's dream was, in a way, also his dream—to bring peace to the world and allow the people to live in peace.

Outside the study.

Zhang Ning was carrying a tray when she heard Liu Ce's voice coming from inside the study. She had just reached the door of the study when she heard Liu Ce's voice coming from inside.

Those two poems, word by word, struck her heart like a hammer.

"He traveled everywhere practicing medicine, calling himself a great sage... He wrapped himself in a yellow turban and died for Heaven..."

Zhang Ning froze in her tracks.

The tray trembled slightly in her hands, and the soup in the bowl sloshed around, almost spilling out.

"War rages throughout the land, but only the common people can live in peace..."

Her eyes instantly turned red.

My father, Zhang Jiao, was a great teacher, leader of the Way of Peace, and leader of the Yellow Turban Rebellion. In the eyes of the court, he was a "heretical Taoist," and in the eyes of the aristocratic families, he was a "traitor." Most of his followers were drawn by the promise that "the blue sky is dead, and the yellow sky shall rise." Very few of them truly understood my father's ideals.

Even those who had received favors from their father dared not openly worship him after the Yellow Turban Rebellion failed; they could only secretly set up a memorial tablet at home.

But in the dead of night in Youzhou, in the mouth of the man she had entrusted her life to, her father became a "great sage," and the Yellow Turbans became those who fought "for the peace and well-being of the people"...

"At the sound of the command, heaven and earth were shaken; the year of Jiazi brought forth a raging storm."

The Way of Peace stands where the poor live; the nine-section staff strikes the cold water with talismans.

After reciting the last two sentences, Zhang Ning finally couldn't hold back her tears, which fell down in a series of soft patters onto the edge of the tray, splashing up tiny droplets.

She quickly put down the tray and hastily wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Don't cry... don't let him see..."

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and tried to make her voice sound normal. "Father, can you hear me? Finally... finally someone understands you."

Not as a rebel, not as a heretic, but as an idealist who truly wanted to do something for the common people.

Zhang Ning picked up the tray again, took a deep breath, and pushed open the study door.

Inside the study.

Liu Ce was still standing by the window when he heard the door open and turned around.

By candlelight, Zhang Ning walked in carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup noodles on it—she knew Liu Ce liked to have a late-night snack.

She was wearing a pale yellow dress, her hair was simply tied up, and she had a gentle smile on her face—if you didn't look closely, you couldn't tell that there was a little redness in her eyes.

"Husband, take a rest." She placed the tray on the table, her voice soft.

Liu Ce immediately noticed the "Essential Techniques of Peace" spread out on the table.

Zhang Ning naturally saw it too.

The familiar book was now laid out on Liu Ce's desk.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment in mid-air.

A complex mix of emotions flashed in Zhang Ning's eyes—nostalgia, sadness, relief, and a hint of...expectation?

Liu Ce walked over, took the chopsticks she handed him, sat down, and started slurping his noodles.

The rice noodles are smooth and refreshing, and the soup is rich and warm. One bite warms you from your stomach to your heart.

"Thank you, Ning'er." He looked up and smiled at her, then buried his head in his food again.

Zhang Ning stood aside, quietly watching him eat, looking at the book "Taiping Yaoshu" on the table, and at the man who had become her future husband.

After a while, Liu Ce finished the last bite and sighed contentedly, "That was satisfying!"

Zhang Ning said softly, her gaze falling on the open "Taiping Yaoshu" (Essential Techniques of Great Peace), "My husband is looking at... Father's belongings?"

Liu Ce nodded and said, "Your father was a remarkable man. His ideals, his theories, his organizational skills... few people in the world could compare to him. It's just that he was born at the wrong time and had bad luck."

Zhang Ning's eyes reddened again, but this time it was from emotion.

"If Father were alive, he would be pleased to know that my husband speaks of me this way," she whispered.

Liu Ce wiped his mouth and looked at Zhang Ning seriously: "Ning'er, your father's ideal is not wrong—to ensure that everyone in the world has food to eat, clothes to wear, and a place to live. It's just that the methods were too radical and the timing was wrong. But the ideal itself deserves respect."

Zhang Ning finally couldn't hold back her tears and they fell.

Liu Ce quickly got up and clumsily wiped away her tears: "Hey, don't cry...did I say something wrong?"

"No..." Zhang Ning shook her head, then smiled through her tears, "I'm happy."

Zhang Ning then asked in a very soft voice, "Was the poem my husband just recited... about my father?"

Liu Ce paused, then looked up at her.

In the candlelight, Zhang Ning's eyes sparkled, as if they held many unspoken words.

"Um."

Liu Ce nodded and said, "It came to me from the heart. After reading your father's book, 'The Essentials of Peace,' I realized that he... had lofty ambitions."

It's not "ambitious," it's "ambitious."

Zhang Ning understood the difference between the two words.

Her eyes welled up again, and she quickly turned her face away, pretending to clear the dishes, saying, "Father... he really wanted to do something for the people. But..."

"It's just that the world is too chaotic, people's hearts are too complicated, and time is too short."

Liu Ce picked up the conversation, stood up, walked to her side, and gently patted her shoulder. "Ning'er, your father was a remarkable man. Although he failed, his ideals... are remembered."

Zhang Ning lowered her head and blinked hard, forcing back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

"Um."

She simply responded with a sound, picked up the tray, and said, "Husband, get some rest early and don't stay up too late."

After saying that, she turned and left the study, her steps somewhat hurried.

Liu Ce watched her figure disappear outside the door, shook his head, and sat back down at his desk.

The Taiping Yaoshu is still lying there.

That night, the candle in the study remained lit.

Liu Ce thoroughly studied the "Taiping Yaoshu" again and again, focusing on military organization, tactics and spells, and those cultivation techniques... no, cultivation methods.

The more I look at it, the more alarmed I become, and the more I am moved.

But as he watched, Liu Ce suddenly sensed something different.

These seemingly magical and mysterious "spells" and "secret arts" all actually point to the same goal:

To rapidly build up combat capability, overcome the strong with the weak, and overturn the existing order.

What were the composition of the Yellow Turban Army? Most of them were farmers, refugees, and artisans who could not make a living, lacking equipment, training, and formal military experience.