The World as Rice
The moonlight cast a bluish glow across the hilltop. A gentle breeze stirred the blades of grass, while the bandits below lay sprawled out, exhausted. An incomplete force. There wasn't a trace of military discipline among them, but... for now, they were my subordinates.
I sat on a rock a short distance away from them. A piece of dried meat rested in my hand. My lips were cracked and dry, yet a faint smile played at the corners of my mouth.
“Right now... it's the first year of Zhongping, around the eighth or ninth month?”
I turned the timing over in my mind. The moment I regained consciousness and the game system declared that the possession was complete, I had been hurled into this Three Kingdoms era. The man whose body I now inhabited was—in the original history—the leader of a million Black Mountain Bandits, but right now he was nothing more than a bandit named Jang Yeon. He'd been dragged into a battle in a southern valley of Mount Tai in Qing Province, beaten like a dog, and somehow survived. That was where my story began.
Still, over the past few days I'd managed to secure some decent gains. I'd already raided a small village for supplies—and claimed two married women while I was at it. The bandits now following me did so because they'd been crushed by raw force. Every time the system rewarded me for completing certain quests or conquering a woman, it boosted game-like stats such as vigor and strength, making me stronger.
Of course, my personal growth was secondary. To anyone looking, my bandit group was still pathetic. Yet these bastards listened to me. Why? Because I'd shown them a way to eat and survive, and because I'd proven myself as a superior male. And... they'd seen it with their own eyes. How the women would first cry and scream that they didn't want it—only to end up with hardened nipples, shaking their hips on their own.
“So that's why they follow. Fear and desire.”
I'd been reincarnated into a game-like world, and I was going to turn this stage into one where I held the reins.
Chewing the tough strip of dried meat, I gazed up at the night sky. The quiet before the vast stage of ancient China began to move somehow felt pleasant. But I couldn't afford to lose myself in that feeling. The land of Qing Province where I now stood, the southern slopes of Mount Tai, was far from peaceful.
From the moment I'd first woken up among these bandits, I'd overheard them whispering when they thought I wasn't listening. The Yellow Turbans had risen like wildfire, and suppression armies were being assembled across the realm. In the Battle of Qing Province, the famous trio of Liu, Guan, and Zhang had brought reinforcements, smashing the Yellow Turbans to pieces. Their scattered remnants had since drifted into Mount Tai. The original Jang Yeon had been swept up in the army hunting those remnants and died a dog's death. Now I wore his skin, a survivor clinging to a ragtag band of Black Mountain Bandit remnants.
“Tsk.”
I finished chewing the meat and ran my tongue along the corner of my mouth. My lips were chapped, my throat parched. But the thrill of surveying this new stage outweighed any discomfort.
The remaining Yellow Turbans had fled in large numbers, their forces greatly reduced. Hunted by the imperial army, stripped of weapons, they were now barely distinguishable from common bandits. The suppression forces had moved past Mount Tai and into Yanzhou to chase down the rest. The counties of Qing Province had been pacified, but at the cost of all their manpower and food stores. People were starving. Local officials hid in fear. Every village watched nervously, wondering whether Yellow Turbans or bandits would strike next.
In the middle of all that chaos lay this nameless valley south of Mount Tai. With the army having already passed through, it was relatively safe.
“This is a real blind spot. No one's looking this way.”
And that made it my opportunity.
I rose slowly from the rock, pushed through the underbrush, and climbed a small rise. In the distance, between the shadows of the mountains, a single road stretched out. Straw sandal prints, cart tracks, and the unmistakable stench of dung. The crudely leveled earth was unmistakably a path.
On a road like this, something always passed by. Soon it would be refugees, rival bandits, or even warlords leading armies.
Controlling the roads is the most important thing in times like these.
But I couldn't focus only on the road. I also had to watch the warlords moving in the region. Soon Jo Jo would finish suppressing the Yellow Turbans in Yanzhou and begin building his reputation. Won So, driven out of Luoyang, would try to turn Hebei into his personal backyard with Jizhou at its center. Gongsun Zan was busy playing war with the northern nomads, while Do Gyeom would soon march into Xuzhou to mop up the remnants once the imperial court officially declared the Yellow Turbans defeated.
I recalled their names one by one, the corners of my mouth curling upward.
“While those bastards fight over the world, I'll prepare the table to serve the rice.”
In the original history, this man called Jang Yeon had never been a warlord, never held the title of Grand General or feudal lord. But the person inside this body now was different. I knew the future, at least roughly. And above all, I possessed a ferocious desire to devour.
I looked down at the foot of the hill again. The bandits sleeping beside the campfire still looked utterly pathetic. Even so, I needed to build an army and territory at least on par with what the original Jang Yeon had achieved.
Of course, rather than raiding with these guys right now... seizing the initiative is the answer.
I sat down once more and flicked a small stone with my finger. It flew off with a sharp tak and vanished into the darkness.
Numbers are still too low. Five including me. Guys who would've scattered if I weren't here.
Numerically inferior. Combat strength was a joke. But I held the massive advantage of knowing real history. And for now, I possessed just enough strength to keep this small group together and moving.
“So... for the time being, I need to absorb the scattered Yellow Turban remnants and refugees first.”
I glanced at the piece of dried meat I'd taken a bite from earlier. Tough and bland, but in this situation it was a precious resource no different from military rations.
The road below the hill I'd just climbed was no highway. It wasn't a route armies would use to reach battlefields, nor an official imperial road. But that was precisely why it was perfect. It was a “road of life” connecting nameless villages, used secretly by merchants, farmers, and refugees. Cart tracks meant food and daily necessities were moving. The smell of dung showed livestock had passed. Straw sandal prints could belong to starving people—or to prey for a bandit like me.
“Ahem.”
I cleared my throat and rose slowly to my feet. Five. My current bandit group numbered five including myself.
“In this state, I can't put my spoon on anything.”
What I needed now was quiet, unobtrusive expansion. Some of the Yellow Turban remnants were men who'd lost their families and were wandering aimlessly. Robbed by bandits, chased by government troops, with nowhere left to turn—if I offered them food and shelter, they'd flow in naturally. No matter how loyal they once were to the Yellow Turbans, once they realized the tide had turned, they'd surrender easily. All I had to do was swap their yellow headbands for black ones.
I spread my fingers one by one and muttered under my breath.
“First. Seize control of the road through this valley. Merchants, refugees, remnants... I'll devour them all on this path. Except the ones that would cause too much trouble.”
“Second. It's fine to borrow the Yellow Turban name or raise the banner of the Black Mountain Bandits. Either way, I must package us as a proper force.”
“Third. Minimize the plundering of villages. Instead, secure women and supplies as efficiently as possible.”
I grinned.
“Women, well... they've been pretty good so far.”
The way their eyes crumbled. The stifled moans that eventually turned into desperate cries. And the rush of pleasure from the reward window that appeared after every conquest.
“That's... how I'm going to live in this world.”
I took one last look around. The darkness was already lifting; dawn was breaking. It had been a short night, but I'd organized quite a lot in my head. Time to head back. If I stayed away too long, they might try to run.
“I'm the one who's going to eat the world, you sons of bitches.”
I turned my steps quietly. For now we were still five. But soon we would become ten, then a hundred, then a thousand. And the man recorded as the leader of that horde would be me—Jang Yeon. The name of the man who would sit at the table and chew the rice called the world.
I descended the hill once more and quietly slipped in among the men snoring by the campfire.
“Ha, fuck.”
I pulled a single tattered coat over myself and rolled onto my side. Five men sleeping with their backs pressed together—what a sight. The stench was awful and their breathing uneven, but they were still my subordinates for now.
Even so, I couldn't fall into a deep sleep. A smile lingered at the corners of my mouth, but my eyes remained sharp and alive. They might run at any moment. They might stab me in the back at any moment. My eyes were closed, but my ears stayed open. My breathing was steady, yet my hand remained ready to seize the hilt of my blade.
“Still... tonight wasn't bad.”
I drifted into a light, guarded sleep, holding my breath. Peeking at the rice called the world, recalling the sobs of women, and laying plans for the future. At last the long darkness slowly lifted, and sunlight began to pour down little by little.