Divine Eagle: I, the Golden Wheel, Am Not a Tool Man

The cold wind outside the tent carried the tapping sound of Mongolian horse hooves, cutting through the silence inside the tent repeatedly like a dull knife. King Jinlun—no, let's call him the time traveler who occupies this body now—slowly opened his eyes. He moved his eyes away from the rough woolen felt on the tent roof, and subconsciously put his palms on his chest, where he felt a familiar dull pain, which was an old injury from the fight between the original body and Guo Jing. "His Holiness, are you awake?" The curtain was gently opened, and a man wearing the uniform of a Mongolian soldier bowed in, holding a bowl of steaming goat's milk in his hand, with a bit of awe and probing in his eyes...