A Refugee from the Start, I Wiped Out a Thousand Years of Great Clans

In the final years of the Great Yong, more people starved to death than died in battle.

Xu Cheng crawls out of a pile of corpses, with barely half a life left in him and two bowls of thin gruel before him.

Drink, and the White Gold Army's blades await.

Refuse, and you'll become bones by the roadside.

He lifts a bowl without hesitation.

No one knows that this refugee, who can barely hold a knife, will make the whole realm bear the surname Xu in three years.