Volume One: First Steps into the Martial World as an Immortal Chapter Four: The Young Lord’s Secret Climb Spreads Far and Wide, Youths Across the Land Set Foot on the Martial Path

Chu Mingxuan glanced at his aged father and said, “I have always been true to my word. It’s just a trivial wager. In a few days, I’ll set out, leave Liangzhou behind, and see the world. If I get the chance, I’ll meet those so-called outstanding young talents—like the goddess of the smith’s family my mother mentions. I’ll see for myself just how beautiful she really is.”

With that, he turned and left, calling back, “I won’t be home for dinner. I’m a regular at the Red Pavilion.”

The princess, watching this, couldn’t help but smile. “Xuan’er, you’re only able to act this way here in Liangzhou.”

Liangzhou King gazed at his son’s retreating figure and replied, “It’s been ten years. Xuan’er is sixteen now. He ought to taste some hardship.”

The princess asked, “Is the ten-year pact truly reliable? Once he leaves Liangzhou, I imagine those wanting Xuan’er dead could line up from the city gates all the way to the capital.”

Liangzhou King smiled. “Ten years ago, that master atop Qingming Mountain said the pact would be honored. We needn’t worry about that. As for those who wish to see my bloodline ended, they’re nothing but petty scoundrels. If they try to harm my son, they clearly don’t know the meaning of death.” As he spoke, a sudden murderous aura radiated from him, terrifying all around.

Chu Mingxuan, of course, was unaware of all this. At that moment, he was already on his way to the Prefect’s residence. If there was anyone he’d spent his childhood with, gotten into trouble and indulged in mischief, it was certainly the chubby boy.

When he was eight, Chu Mingxuan, distracted by play, accidentally fell into the Mingxin Lake. The chubby boy risked his life to pull him out—even though he was only a year older.

Of course, back then, the chubby boy’s father wasn’t yet the Prefect of Liangzhou.

As the greatest local rogue in the prefecture, Chu Mingxuan knew the quickest route from the palace to the Prefect’s residence: a straight line, vaulting over any walls in the way. After all, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

The people of the prefecture were long used to the heir climbing walls. After all, he’d done it for years. If he weren’t the heir, he’d have been beaten and thrown into a dung pit ages ago.

Before long, the dusty young lord arrived outside the Prefect’s residence—a modest compound, nothing more than a typical courtyard, with no distinction between front and back yards. An old man stood guard at the gate.

Whenever Chu Mingxuan saw this old fellow, he wondered how the chubby boy’s family could be so odd—having someone that elderly stand guard. Should any thieves come, the Prefect would likely have to protect the guard himself.

Chu Mingxuan ignored the old man. The elder merely smiled at him as he entered, saying nothing, letting him pass.

No sooner had he stepped inside than Chu Mingxuan bellowed, “Fatty, let’s go! The Red Courtyard, Emerald Flower Tower, Peony Pavilion—take your pick, it’s on me!”

Hardly had the words left his mouth when a plump, fair-skinned figure rushed out of the main house, waggling his eyebrows at Chu Mingxuan and muttering through clenched teeth, “My father and mother are both here. Do you want me kneeling on the bench tonight?”

Just then, Prefect Cao Ming and his wife, Zhuge Mingyue, emerged from the house. Upon seeing Chu Mingxuan, they hurried to bow. “Your Highness.”

Chu Mingxuan smiled at them and said, “May I borrow your precious son for a while? If he doesn’t return tonight, don’t worry—he’s surely at the palace.”

The chubby boy, seeing his parents, quickly turned around, but before he could speak, Chu Mingxuan’s words stopped him. He turned back, about to protest, but suddenly felt his body dragged along uncontrollably.

It was Chu Mingxuan pulling him, already running. The chubby boy shouted, “Hey! Where are we going? Where are you taking me?”

Before he finished, he’d been whisked away.

Chu Mingxuan raced through the streets, ignoring his companion’s protests. After a while, the chubby boy, exhausted, plopped down in the middle of the road, panting, “I’m dead tired. Stop, just stop for a moment.”

Chu Mingxuan braced his hands on his knees, bent over, gasping, “If it weren’t for you, I’d have been home ages ago.”

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The chubby boy looked up and asked, “Weren’t we going to the Red Courtyard? Why are we headed to your place?”

Chu Mingxuan shot him a glance. “We’ve been there so many times, and never seen you do anything outrageous. Sigh, let’s go home first—I have something to tell you.” With that, he stood and strode off.

Fengyang Palace—the center of all authority and politics in the Fengyang dynasty, resplendent beyond compare. The entire palace was shaped like the character ‘Lu’, vast in size. A commoner, walking without rest, would take three days to tour its entirety.

Deep within the palace lay many secret chambers. One such chamber now held several figures. The man seated at the head wore imperial robes, his face adorned with a faint smile.

The others in the chamber were a blind man, a cripple, a mute, and a one-armed elder. At this moment, Liu Jing spoke, “Masters, the ten-year pact is up. What should we do?”

Silence hung for a moment. Then the blind man spoke first: “Your Majesty, ten years ago the master came and declared that the pact would be honored. Now, there are few in the world who can stand against them. The elders have fought to win hope for the people of the realm; we must not betray their expectations. It is time to enter the fray.”

These were, in fact, Emperor Liu Jing of Fengyang and the four Grand Masters who served the dynasty.

‘Grand Master’ was not a title for ordinary men. Each of the Four Grand Masters possessed extraordinary power, rumored to be earth immortals, able to live for centuries. This was not far from the truth.

Hearing these words, Liu Jing murmured, “Can this world never know peace? The realm belongs to the people, not just to that group. Why must they toy with the common folk?”

The one-armed elder then spoke, “Your Majesty, as things stand, it is time to decide—which prince will be sent into the world?”

The other three nodded in agreement.

Liu Jing composed himself and said, “The eldest is the crown prince—his position forbids him from leaving. The second and sixth lack ambition, lost in music, chess, and poetry—unsuitable. The fourth, I plan to send to Da Xiong for future use. That leaves the third—talented, humble, and even better in dealing with people than the eldest. Let him enter the world this time.”

The Four Grand Masters all nodded. Yet the blind Grand Master added, “Your Majesty, the King of Liangzhou will likely send his son into the world as well. Rumor has it the heir is a wastrel, lacking talent, domineering in Liangzhou. If he is truly so, there is nothing to worry about. But if he is merely pretending, then the King’s ambitions may be considerable. Your Majesty should guard against this.”

Liu Jing regarded the blind Master for a long moment, then smiled. “It’s just a King of Liangzhou. Should he truly rebel, I will make him regret it.”

Whatever else the blind Master wished to say was cut off by Liu Jing’s words: “Thank you all for your efforts today. I am weary and will return to the palace.” With that, he rose and departed.

Liu Jing did not return to his bedchamber, but instead went to his study, took up his brush, and wrote a plain letter, without any seal. He placed it in an envelope and called for his attendant eunuch, Little Stone.

He said, “Little Stone, I have a letter for you to deliver tonight. Go in plain clothes—make sure no one recognizes you. Take the letter personally to Liangzhou, and hand it to the King. Afterward, do not return. Stay with him; he will grant you a fine future.”

Little Stone knelt instantly upon hearing this. “Your Majesty, I only wish to remain at your side, sharing your burdens!”

Liu Jing gazed at him, smiling gently. “You have served me faithfully. Had nothing changed, you were among those I meant to assist the crown prince. But now, I must send you on this journey. Most likely, these are the last words I’ll ever say to you.”

Little Stone was shaken, quickly grasping his predicament. “I will deliver the letter to the King of Liangzhou myself. May Your Majesty take care of yourself.” He bowed three times.

He stood, took the letter, hid it in his robes, his eyes glistening, and quietly withdrew.

Liu Jing watched his retreating figure, lost in thought.

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In the Sword Pavilion of Western Shu, a young man wielded a silver sword in a deep valley, thrusting forward again and again. Though sweat drenched him, he did not pause.

Suddenly, a white-robed elder with white brows and beard appeared silently behind him. Seeing the boy’s diligence, he stroked his beard and smiled.

The youth sensed something, spun around, saw the old man, and quickly sheathed his sword, bowing in disciple’s salute. “Bai Xiaojian greets the Pavilion Master.”

He asked, “Master, what brings you to the Ten-Thousand Stones Valley?”

Pavilion Master Qiu Yihun looked fondly at Bai Xiaojian. “After days of cultivating my heart, I’ve made another breakthrough. With nothing pressing, I came for a stroll—and to seek you.”

Bai Xiaojian was instantly excited. “Another breakthrough, Master? Are you now the strongest in the realm?”

Qiu Yihun patted his head. “A lucky breakthrough, but the title of ‘strongest’ is not mine to claim.”

“Xiaojian, the tides of the world are shifting, fate ever uncertain. You appear to be practicing swordsmanship, but you have already embarked upon the path of immortality. As the Pavilion’s heir, you cannot remain shut away; you ought to see the world.” Qiu Yihun paused.

Bai Xiaojian looked at his three-foot blade, then raised his eyes. “I obey, Master.”

Qiu Yihun nodded. “On this journey, you must rely on yourself. Choose your companions wisely. Let your sword follow your heart. Someday, you may astonish the world with a single stroke.” With that, Qiu Yihun turned and departed.

Bai Xiaojian bowed in farewell, and heard his master’s voice, “Go first to Qingyun Mountain. Let all things follow their course.” Bai Xiaojian acknowledged.

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At the Literary Pavilion atop Mount Tai, a white-robed youth stood on the summit, hands behind his back, gazing at the scene before him. He murmured,

“In ancient times, youth was always romantic,
Behind the horse, the world’s passion returns.
Today the rivers and mountains need a whip,
A single brush smooths ten thousand waves.”

As the words faded, his bearing grew calmer. He turned and descended the mountain.

At the same time, the Pavilion’s artifact maiden, dressed as a man, set out into the world.

The Pavilion’s diviner, riding a donkey, also began his journey.

Across the realm, every great power sent their young heirs into the world. Even those outside Fengyang slipped quietly into its borders.