Volume One: First Steps into the Martial World, Chapter Twelve: While the World Is Drunk, I Alone Remain Sober; The Prince of Fengyang Is Family

Back then, Cao Ming was nothing more than a humble official, but because his son, Cao Wen, was close to the heir apparent in childhood and later saved his life, he was now able to ascend to the position of Governor of Liangzhou. Otherwise, given Cao Ming’s qualifications, how could he possibly outrank the other county governors present?

Cao Ming was well aware of the gazes directed at him, but his expression remained unperturbed. In his view, all he needed to do was perform his duties diligently. Not long ago, the Prince had praised Liangzhou for producing talent at the city gate—he hadn’t just meant his own son, but himself as well. As long as he did his job well, his governorship would not be stripped away. Why, then, should he involve himself in the schemes some officials were plotting?

As the wine flowed and the evening wore on, all present became increasingly merry. There were music and dancing to liven the mood, prompting many to drink yet another cup.

Chu Min made his rounds, exchanging warm words with each county governor. For a moment, everyone present felt that the Prince had changed, become more amiable—even a few who had been involved in that day’s plot began to waver in their resolve.

“Gentlemen, it is rare for the officials of Liangzhou to gather and enjoy themselves so thoroughly. I, Chu Min, must thank you all again for your efforts on behalf of the people. Because you have truly done good for the populace, whatever you may have done or plotted in the past, I will overlook it this once—but only this once.” With these words, Chu Min rose to his feet.

“Your Highness speaks too highly; this is merely our duty,” the officials replied, rising as one.

Chu Min gestured for them to be seated, then said, “There is another, more personal matter I have called you here to discuss. I hope you will be willing to assist me.”

At this, everyone smiled and replied, “It would be our honor to help Your Highness. Please, instruct us.”

Chu Min exchanged a glance with Nangong Wan’er, then continued, “I have spent my life campaigning for peace in the realm. Later, I helped found Fengyang, and His Majesty rewarded his meritorious ministers. By fortune, I received the title of Prince of Liangzhou. His Majesty ordered me to guard this region and promised that in my old age, I could choose my own fief and retire. Now that I am growing old, I intend to do just that.”

At these words, several county governors were taken aback—some barely restrained themselves from crying out in joy. This scoundrel was finally leaving! Yet, despite their delight, they put on faces of sorrow.

“Your Highness, you are in your prime! Why retire now? Without you, not only will the Xiongnu surely invade, but all of Liangzhou will be plunged in grief!” one governor exclaimed, standing with a look of deep sadness.

“Yes! Your Highness is in his prime. Liangzhou cannot do without you, nor can the court. Please reconsider!” several more added, rising earnestly to plead with him.

Chu Min smiled at their performance. “I appreciate your concern. In truth, I am reluctant to retire so soon, but my son insists upon it. But you need not worry—I intend to choose Liangzhou as my fief, so we will still see each other often, to drink tea and discuss philosophy.”

At this, the room fell dead silent, especially those who had just begged him to stay—their faces turned ashen.

Nangong Wan’er suppressed her laughter at this sight.

Seeing no one speak, Chu Min continued, “In order to ensure all goes smoothly, I do need your assistance. I hope you will all jointly petition His Majesty, just as you have just tried to persuade me to stay.”

He looked at them with such sincerity that it seemed he truly needed their help.

“Your Highness, if you are to retire, why choose Liangzhou? All know this region is impoverished. With your status, you should go to Jiangnan, where you can live in comfort and luxury,” one finally protested.

Others quickly joined in, their concern for the Prince apparently heartfelt—anyone with eyes could see they were truly thinking of his welfare.

Cao Ming sat quietly, savoring the food on his plate, utterly indifferent to the silent signals cast his way.

After swallowing a piece of chicken, a look of contentment flashed across his face, and, as if still unsatisfied, he picked up his knife and cut at the chicken’s neck on his plate.

Even at a time like this, the governor was eating chicken neck—truly a man of humble origins.

Only Chu Min and Nangong Wan’er exchanged amused, approving glances before letting the others continue their charade.

Once the chorus of persuasion had died down, Chu Min declared, “No need to say more. My mind is made up. I simply ask that you all join in petitioning His Majesty as I’ve outlined.”

He turned and smiled at Nangong Wan’er, who nodded, rose, and left in silence, leaving the others puzzled.

...

On the hillside behind the Prince’s residence, Xiao Zijing stood with several others, watching the flashes of spiritual energy from the training grounds. Smiling, he remarked, “Earlier today, the Prince told me he was worried the residence couldn’t hold so many guests. But look—if they’re lying on the ground stacked together like that, even ten thousand more could fit.”

“Sir, if the Prince continues like this, the court will launch another round of attacks against him,” a woman in red behind him observed.

Xiao Zijing’s gaze remained on the training ground. “They’re just scholars whose ambitions have gone astray. What can they do to the Prince? If the heir apparent wished it, the Prince would dare march into the capital and take their heads for wine jugs.”

“Sir, you’ve been rather bloodthirsty lately. It’s not good for your health,” a man in blue added.

Xiao Zijing laughed quietly. “I’m just a country bumpkin who’s barely read a few books. With limited talent and no path to immortality, how could I be too bloodthirsty? Butchers in the city markets plan their slaughter every day and live long, robust lives. People should follow their hearts. Forcing oneself to change one’s views only leads, as you cultivators say, to inner demons. So don’t overthink it—you’ll cultivate even higher if you follow your nature, and thus be of even greater help to the Prince.”

He looked up at the sky. “Following one’s heart is a choice—knowing good from evil is the essence, and a heart with only good is a true heart.”

“Thank you for your guidance, sir!” the others bowed deeply.

“The first step is taken. Now comes the second—but the second and third must be taken together, and that will be a challenge.” With that, he turned and descended the mountain.

The next day, word spread throughout Liangzhou: the Princess Consort was journeying to Lecheng to reward the soldiers, expressing gratitude for their defense of the people. Meanwhile, new officials had been appointed to several counties, with rumors that their predecessors had conspired in rebellion. Liangzhou was now officially granted as the Prince’s fief, and he was replacing every official he could. But that is a story for another time.

At the foot of Mount Qingyun, a youth in white, long hair streaming, sword in hand—its hilt adorned with a plum blossom—looked up at the mountain. Ordinary folk might see nothing, but as someone on the path of cultivation, he immediately sensed the dense spiritual energy. Recalling books he’d read in the Sword Pavilion, he straightened his robes and began to climb.

He paused, sensing something behind him, and turned to see several others approaching. They greeted each other in silence and ascended together.

In Youzhou, inside the Great General’s Residence, Mu Yunge sat across from a man in black. Between them, a pot of tea steamed gently.

“The one from Xitian Pavilion wants me to send a battalion to garrison Pingcheng—such an obvious move,” Mu Yunge remarked.

“If the purpose weren’t obvious, how could they tie you firmly to their cause? Play the move as planned. Since they have shown such sincerity, we must reciprocate,” replied the man, eyes on his book.

“But this wasn’t our original intention. One wrong move and the entire game is lost.”

“What choice do you have? If you don’t take the first step, how will you ever achieve your goal?”

“But if my reputation is ruined, it may never recover—my infamy could last forever.”

“If you win in the end, you write your own history. The chronicles are written by the victor. You may yet become celebrated for generations.”

“The Prince of Liangzhou is no easy foe. He may be a mere ninth-rank warrior, but he has countless loyal followers. They say his army numbers three hundred thousand, and while the truth is uncertain, there’s never smoke without fire.”

“But wealth and power have always favored the bold.”

“What if Xiongnu invades? The Left Battalion won’t be so easily recalled.”

“Isn’t Xiongnu itself a great opportunity?”

Mu Yunge paused with the teapot in midair, studying the man before him—so familiar and yet so strange. Memories of their first meeting and the years since flashed through his mind, and finally he smiled.

“Then I’ll follow your advice,” Mu Yunge said.

“According to our scouts, that profligate heir of Liangzhou arrives in Youzhou tomorrow. You may wish to prepare something for him.”

After a pause, the man continued, “Even if you make no move, many others in Youzhou will. People from all over the land are gathering here—surely you’ve heard from your subordinates how many martial artists and cultivators have arrived.”

“Heh, do they really think I, Mu Yunge, am so easily outmaneuvered? They all want to kill that brat here, so that the Prince of Liangzhou will turn his wrath upon me—after all, if something happens to his son in my territory, I’ll be blamed.”

“Since you understand this, and now that you’re working with Xitian Pavilion, you might as well join the fray. If you kill Chu Yunxuan, the Prince of Liangzhou may be enraged enough to come after you directly, saving you the trouble of facing him later.”

“In that case, I’ll make arrangements. I’ll see that brat meets his end in Youzhou—a fine gift for our friends.”

“Excellent! Wonderful!”

“I wonder how many among the newcomers have been sent by those other princes. The Emperor of Fengyang and nine princes—each with a smile that never reaches their eyes. They’re just like the courtesans at Youzhou’s Dream Pavilion.”

“Perhaps you mean to say, they are just as skillful in their trade as well?”

Both men burst out laughing.