Auxiliary Women's Strategy: A Virtuous Wife Helps the King to Rule the World

When Ye Chen stepped into that nightmarish illusion, he was stunned to find himself in a dilapidated, seemingly forgotten village. All around him stood ramshackle adobe houses, like frail old men, struggling to survive the ravages of time. Chunks of mud peeled off the walls, revealing the rotting hay within, as if lamenting the vicissitudes of life they had endured.

The road beneath my feet was bumpy and strewn with pebbles of all shapes and sizes. Every step felt like a cruel torture. Looking out, the crops in the fields were sparse, and the withered yellow leaves trembled in the wind, their rustling sound as if they were feebly expressing the sorrow of the poor harvest, which made me feel pity.

Ye Chen was wearing a patchwork of coarse linen, the fabric bleached by the passage of time, so thin it could barely withstand even the slightest bit of cold wind. His shoes were already tattered, his toes sticking out of the holes, stained with dirty mud, leaving a muddy footprint with every step.

At home, a few chipped bowls lay crookedly on a worn wooden table, each empty. The pot itself was completely devoid of steam, the atmosphere as cold as the house itself. His parents' faces were gaunt, wrinkles like deep ravines. Their eyes revealed a sense of helplessness about life and uncertainty about the future, a helpless gaze that seemed to pierce the soul.

To make ends meet, Ye Chen struggled out of bed every day, before dawn had even broken, to follow the village elders up the steep, rugged mountain path to chop firewood. The path was nearly vertical, and the branches on either side slashed at his body like the claws of a demon. His hands were scratched by the rough branches, leaving deep, bloody wounds on them, staining his hatchet red with blood. But he gritted his teeth, silently enduring it all, suppressing even a groan of pain.

He would carry the heavy, mountain-like bundle of chopped firewood on his back, trudging over ten miles along winding mountain roads to the town market to sell it. The weight of the firewood bent his delicate spine, and each step felt like a bottomless quagmire. Yet, despite his toil, his countless sweat and blood, he earned only a few meager copper coins, a mere drop in the bucket to alleviate his family's poverty.

Winter arrived, and the cold wind howled like a sharp whistle, mercilessly penetrating the dilapidated house. Ye Chen curled up in his thin, almost transparent blanket, shivering with cold, his teeth chattering constantly, but he dared not complain. He was afraid that complaining would make his already difficult life even more difficult, so he could only endure the torment of the cold in silence.

One day, Ye Chen happened to hear that the city was hiring workers, offering far more money than selling firewood. This news was like a ray of hope, illuminating his dark life. He headed to the city with anticipation, his eyes gleaming with longing for the future. However, when he actually stepped foot on the job site, he discovered the working conditions were abysmal. The thick dust made it nearly impossible to breathe, and the clamor of machinery was deafening. Worse still, the foreman frequently withheld his wages for various unfounded reasons. But to give his family a slightly better life, he gritted his teeth and persevered, despite the grievances and pain in his heart.

However, fate seemed to be taking a different approach. News arrived from home that his father was ill and bedridden, his condition worsening, and he urgently needed money for medicine. Ye Chen was terrified, like an ant on the hot pot. He sought money from his fellow workers, his pleading eyes filled with concern for his father and a desire for help. But they, too, lived on the brink of poverty, struggling to make ends meet, and could do nothing to help him.

With no other choice, Ye Chen decided to take the risk of more dangerous but higher-paying work. He chose to work in the mines. The mines were dark and damp, and the air was filled with a suffocating stench of decay. The rocks above him were crumbling, threatening to collapse at any moment. Every time he went down into the mines, he felt like he was teetering on the brink of death, his life ending at any second.

One day, Ye Chen was toiling away in the mine as usual. Suddenly, he heard an ominous sound overhead, a muffled and oppressive sound, like the prelude to death. "Oh no! It's going to collapse!" he cried out in terror, his voice echoing through the narrow mine. His fellow workers panicked and desperately ran out of the cave, and Ye Chen also took off like an arrow from a bow. A huge rock fell from the sky, hitting him hard on the leg. Intense pain instantly spread throughout his body, and he felt dizzy and nearly fainted. But the desire to survive burned in his heart like a burning flame, forcing him to endure the pain and continue to climb out using his hands and feet.

Fortunately, after struggling on the brink of death, he finally escaped the mine and narrowly escaped with his life. However, his leg was severely injured, the wound bloody and deep, revealing the bone. Unable to work, Ye Chen suddenly fell into deeper despair. Lying on his simple bed, he stared at the dilapidated roof, his heart filled with resentment and anger. "Am I destined to be trapped in poverty forever?" he asked himself painfully, his voice filled with endless sorrow and helplessness.

Just as he was about to give up completely, sinking into the abyss of despair, a mysterious old man appeared before him like a ghost. His gaze was deep, revealing a hint of pity and expectation. "My child, fate is not unchangeable. As long as you have enough courage and determination," he said. Then, the old man slowly handed Ye Chen a book. The book emanated a mysterious light, as if it contained endless power. Then, as silently as he had appeared, the old man disappeared.

Ye Chen picked up the book with trembling hands, discovering that it contained some magical spells and cultivation methods. Those words were like twinkling stars, lighting a ray of hope in his dark world. He felt like he had grasped a lifeline, and despite the pain, he began to study day and night.

Ye Chen endured the excruciating pain from his leg injury, studying the mysterious book day and night. The text was obscure and difficult to understand, like an ancient code that required his dedication to decipher. The path of cultivation was filled with hardships and challenges, each step like climbing a steep mountain. But he didn't flinch, his eyes burning with unwavering faith.

As time went by, Ye Chen gradually grasped some of the book's mysteries and began to carefully practice according to the instructions. Initially, progress was slow, and the spiritual energy he gathered was so weak it was almost negligible. But every small breakthrough, even the slightest improvement, filled him with joy and a sense of accomplishment. These small achievements further strengthened his resolve to continue practicing, and he believed that he could one day change his destiny.

However, his cultivation didn't go unnoticed. The villagers pointed and criticized his behavior, their words filled with confusion and ridicule. "Ye Chen, that kid, instead of working hard to earn money, spends all day tinkering with useless things." "That's right, thinking you can change your fate with this? It's simply wishful thinking." These cold words were like sharp blades, piercing his heart again and again.

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