Since there were no rewards, the soldiers who participated in that battle could only slink back home in dejection, only to find that some young Confucian scholar they used to mock in their hometown had already made a name for himself in the capital, been exempted from corvée labor, and had a bright future ahead. Meanwhile, they had risked their lives for the Han in foreign lands, returned covered in wounds and illness, yet gained nothing at all.

Why is that?

After that, Robert Benson never managed to make a name for himself. He served as a pavilion chief and a rural patrol officer, solved quite a few cases, but no matter how well he performed, whenever it was time for promotion, the county registrar would always ask: “Are you versed in the classics?”

Of course, Robert Benson was not. Let alone the Five Classics, he hadn’t even studied the Classic of Filial Piety or the Analects—he’d spent his youth brawling and seeking out trouble. To imitate the chancellors of the previous dynasties, like Yu Dingguo, who became self-taught halfway through life? He didn’t have that perseverance or talent.

In fact, he had even audited classes at the county school, but those teachers just droned on about the same few lines, never teaching anything about governance. Why was it that martial officials like him had no hope for advancement, destined to remain minor officials all their lives, while Confucian scholars who had attended the Imperial Academy could, after passing the archery and policy exams, directly become court officials and high ministers, holding positions worth two thousand bushels? Even local magistrates no longer judged cases by the law, but had to consult Confucian scholars, practicing this so-called “Spring and Autumn justice.”

So his promotion prospects came to nothing, and Robert Benson wasted his life, retiring as a rural patrol officer. In contrast, his colleagues who were less capable and less experienced than him kept rising through the ranks simply because they had studied the Confucian classics and met the requirements from above.

Why is that?

He couldn’t figure it out, but he finally understood the Han dynasty’s trend of selecting officials through the study of the classics: whether civil or military, mastering a classic was the prerequisite for becoming a high official and making a fortune.

So, determined not to let his descendants suffer as he had, Robert Benson put great effort into his grandson’s education. At seven or eight, he sent Henry Benson to the county “primary school,” and even hired Confucian scholars to tutor him at home, finally cultivating someone capable of passing the Imperial Academy’s exams.

And this new dynasty valued the classics even more than the Han. The number of Imperial Academy students expanded to ten thousand, and the status of Confucian scholars was elevated to unprecedented heights—after all, the emperor Wang Mang himself was a scholar.

Given this situation, the family’s younger generation should continue to focus on the Five Classics; this might be the only way for the The Benson Family clan to transform and rise from the ashes.

But unexpectedly, his grandson turned out to be as rebellious as he was in his youth. How could Robert Benson not be angry?

“If you can’t beat them, join them?”

Henry Benson actually admired his grandfather’s way of going with the flow. Thirty years ago, it would have been the right move; even twenty years later, it would have been understandable.

But it just so happened to be the short-lived Xin dynasty, and this was the wrong path. Although he didn’t know much about this period of history, he knew that after the Xin came the Eastern Han—a change of dynasties, surely bringing chaos to the land and misery to the people. There was no way every transition could be as peaceful as Wang Mang’s abdication.

Because Henry Benson had recently become interested in military affairs, Robert Benson thought he aspired to a military career, so he lowered his voice and advised his grandson: “Trying to make a name for yourself through military service, as I did back then, won’t work either. Right now, the emperor is waging wars everywhere—not just against the Xiongnu, but also the Western Qiang, the Western Regions, the Southwestern Barbarians, and even Goguryeo…”

“Xia Juli.” Henry Benson smiled and said, “I heard people say the emperor has already issued an edict, changing the name of Goguryeo to this.”

Another antonym—very much in Wang Mang’s style.

In short, the Xin dynasty had only been established for ten years, yet it seemed to have gone mad, turning against all its vassal states and sending troops in every direction. Although “victory reports” from the front lines were frequent, those who had served and returned wounded from the northern Xiongnu or the southern Southwestern Barbarians wept, saying that hundreds of thousands of troops were bogged down at the borders, suffering heavy losses, and the wars seemed to be at a stalemate.

Robert Benson was worried about this: “In recent years, the court’s taxes have increased more and more, and corvée labor has been assigned to every clan. Last year, my The Benson Family sent three people; this year, they want six! Are they going to increase the troops again?”

“The year before last, those sent to the Western Regions to suppress the rebellion were said to have won a great victory, and the general in command was granted a marquisate and a noble title. But the few from my The Benson Family who were conscripted never returned—perhaps they died out there. There are even rumors that the Protector General of the Western Regions has been killed by the local tribes, the reinforcements were crushed by the city-state coalition, and the remnants are trapped in Kucha, cut off from the court.”

Having spent several years in the Western Regions himself, Robert Benson still cared about that place, and could only sigh: “The current emperor and Colonel Chen Tang are close friends, and the colonel praises him highly. When it comes to dealing with the barbarians, he really does as Colonel Chen said: ‘No matter how far, they must be punished.’ But how did the wars turn out like this? There’s none of the glory we had back then, when one Han soldier could take on five barbarians in the Western Regions…”

Saying such blunt truths—indeed, the new army’s combat ability was poor, and their success rate in foreign wars was pitifully low. So pursuing a military career now was also unwise; you could easily lose your life.

Henry Benson interrupted his grandfather: “Grandfather, the reason I don’t want to enter the Imperial Academy and study the Five Classics is because pursuing an official career through scholarship is only possible in times of peace.”

“But if we encounter an era of chaos, those complicated Five Classics will be useless in the face of sharp blades!”

“An era of chaos?” Robert Benson was startled and looked at Henry Benson. “What are you trying to say?”

These words could not be spoken openly. Following his grandfather outside the southern wall of the fortified manor, standing by the vegetable garden and gazing at the world at dusk, Henry Benson finally voiced his judgment.