Necessary Mental Preparation
The most charming sort of man in the world was a graceful warrior who rose early, brewed a pot of aromatic tea and read under the warm sun. The first ray of light would always hit the unmissable chest. A graceful man’s morning started with grace.
“What the heck is this? What did Zha Pi even write? How is this a best seller?” After he blasted the book, Ming Feizhen hummed, “A young lady lost her home a sixteen, then left the mountain to find a good father…”
You could feel the elegance emanating from every fibre of his being and every movement he made.
Ming Feizhen rose early due to being bored stiff, but instead of aromatic tea, he had crispy oven rolls, beef marinated in soy sauce, chicken skewers, puff pastry cake with sugar rose filling, honey tofu pickles, osmanthus cake and more. All of it was washed down with his collection of premium wine stashed under his bed. While his mouth was busy, he used his free hand to research things such as what new novels or new gossip was going around. The important activity occupied him for a good while.
Recently, Ming Feizhen had been spending all his time at the inn ever since Ling Jialan left because she wasn’t around. Needless to say, Shen Yiren visited once as she missed him. If he couldn’t figure out she missed him dearly from the one-hundred-plus curse words she spat in his face, he wasn’t qualified to be the head guardian of Rabbit Cult, after all. He chuckled as he pulled on his own ears and vowed to return within two days, inked three copies of guarantee and stamped them all.
Should Shen Yiren not have been mad? She had to leave the capital soon, and she had no time to catch her breath in order to delegate all the work, yet her second-in-command was lazing around at an inn. Had Ling Jialan been around and Ming Feizhen lodged his spending as work expenses, she would’ve pressed his hand to a table and cut his finger off to stamp the guarantee.
After breakfast, Ming Feizhen finally had free time to lie down on his comfortable bed. He lazed there for a while before he took out the notice that His Majesty wanted to instate him as a Prince’s teacher and that the chosen Prince couldn’t object. Ever since it was handed to him, he’d been dealing with oddities so frequently that he only got a day to himself every second day, ruining his mood.
The choice of words in the decree proved that His Majesty carefully mulled over every word, inspiring Ming Feizhen to reflect on all the things that transpired in the year since he joined Liu Shan Men.
He didn’t expect to meet Su Xiao, Tang Ye, and Shen Yiren.
He didn’t expect his relationship with Ming Suwen to undergo a change.
He didn’t expect to strike up a cordial relationship with His Majesty.
He didn’t expect to virtually repeat his path in the imperial court. He had walked the same path at least three times in his life – the path of soaring up the ladder. Although it appeared as though he had plenty of leisure time whenever he did something, he never actually had many options. Even the people around him had transformed and done similar things.
Although he was now Official Ming of Liu Shan Men, his tasks weren’t much more complex than the tasks that head constables tackled. In contrast, Ming Feizhen’s status as Mount Daluo’s senior disciple, his rank of Duke, and his position as a Prince’s teacher were important enough to influence the trajectory of the world. In saying that, his relationship with Shen Clan was undoubtedly the one aspect people feared most.
Due to the Shen siblings extremely friendly relationship with His Majesty, whoever could leverage the siblings would’ve also had access to an enormous amount of resources. The uninformed viewed Ming Feizhen as a conniving individual since he hailed from the most mysterious sect and wasn’t trained in martial arts, yet he chose to join the weakest bureau among the three, going as far as brown nosing Shen Yiren, whom his majesty saw as his adopted daughter, in order to befriend the imperial family. Now, Ming Feizhen was showing his true colours in the form of brainwashing a Prince. Ming Feizhen was convinced that they had more ridiculous stories and that they’d have been more successful as authors. Whether he wanted to or not, as he rose in rank, his link to the imperial court and the most convoluted power struggle was tightened, turning him into an important character.
“Don’t you people ever get tired?” Ming Feizhen mumbled before picking up Zha Pi’s new book, “Joyfully Discussing One Hundred Romps”, and gleefully flipping through it.
Zha Pi’s story told that of a muscular veteran hero courting women. At first, his habit of tirelessly emphasising he was a tough guy was annoying, but the comedy was great. He studied the art of wooing women because women disliked him for being excessively muscular, which was a common pain point for many muscular martial artists. His story proved that he was quite observant and accurate in his analyses of the men at Liu Shan Men, too.
Ming Feizhen wasn’t killing time; he was waiting for someone, still. Waiting at an inn was easy. If he wanted to, he would’ve been able to find a blind eye to lure you out from an ice cave on a snowy mountain if he wanted to. There was a right time to pull the net cast on a trap. There was a point in time at which one had to spill blood in a life-and-death fight. It wasn’t Ming Feizhen’s smarts talking; it was experience talking. Someone would typically pay him a visit and spill the beans at this juncture, so he only had to wait. Only an idiot would run around searching for someone trying to avoid them. What was less stressful, searching for a needle in a haystack or eating in bed or something whilst waiting?
Without reading three times a day, one shall not feast on meat. Cultivate on books and meat. Then read and eat meat. This is a true hero.
Knock, knock.
Ming Feizhen wasn’t surprised to have a visitor, but he did not expect her to be his visitor. The hooded lady welcomed herself in the same way she insisted all her kneeling servants draped the hoodie on for her despite their adamant objection to her heading out in her black garments.
“Never expected my first guest to be you,” Ming Feizhen remarked without needing to look just as she seemed to know who was on the other side of the door before entering.
Despite having a thirteen-year-old son, she didn’t look even close to thirty years old. That said, none of it could depict her from back then for she had grown more mature and stronger. If she was a blade of grass before, she was now a big, strong flourishing tree. Ming Feizhen just needed a quick glance to identify all her changes.
Brilliant Consort scrunched up her face. “How come you’ve become so ugly?”
Well, except for the fact that she was still easily shaken. Even Ming Feizhen was moved!
“What’s it to you, hoe?”
While her servants were incredibly displeased with Ming Feizhen’s disrespectful attitude, Brilliant Consort wasn’t too angry; she just wanted to stick a knife in him. Nevertheless, she suppressed her anger and took a seat and scrutinised the man sitting on his bed. The looks she had, the more she was able to reconstruct his white-haired appearance from years ago. “It is you, after all.”
Ming Feizhen glanced over to the thirty-odd servants who silently shut the door. Needless to say, the people she had accompany her were trusted elites who wouldn’t leak anything or let anyone overhear them. Under such a tight guard, it was impossible for any villain to enact their original assassination plans. Whoever Ming Feizhen was waiting for wasn’t going to show up now.
Ming Feizhen was unsure how to react to the lady who still behaved as she used to. For some reason, she was involved in any unexpected event. She would use her brain before she acted on impulse, only to still act on impulse in the end – the classic Feng Huang.
Ming Feizhen picked his ear. “Who are you?”
“Cut the act. You don’t recognise me? Are you telling me all those people died for nothing? Why are you in the capital and even a duke? You didn’t even pay me a visit? I’ve heard the name ‘Ming Feizhen’ so many times that I’m sick of it. I didn’t know it was you, Ming…”
“I don’t go by that name anymore. I’m Ming Feizhen. Pleasure to meet you.”
“What the heck is this?!” Feng Huang pulled the teacup away from her mouth as if it was an emergency.
Ming Feizhen smiled. “How can one not offer an old friend tea when they visit?”
“Oh, so you recognise me now? What happened to the act? But this isn’t tea… What is this?! Did you eat chicken feet? What did you use this cup for?”
Feeling a chill down his spine, Ming Feizhen took the cup from Feng Huang. “Hoho, hoho, imported chicken grease tea from Nanjiang. You should be honoured you get to try this rare tea.”
Ming Feizhen didn’t expect Feng Huang to use the cup that he dumped chicken bones in. Had he known she would’ve picked that specific cup, he would’ve sour plum leftovers or something.
“You’re the same as I remember, which goes to show that my decision to have you married was correct. I deserve credit for all you have now, don’t I?”
“You, on the other hand, have changed considerably… but how did you become so ugly? Does becoming sleazy come with men entering their middle ages?”
Ming Feizhen rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-nine, thirty-year-old aunty.”
Even though she was furious, Feng Huang remembered that he… wouldn’t have made that expression in the past. While he was always picking verbal fights that she didn’t mind responding to in kind in, but he usually only smirked or used an indifferent tone to insult her; it was uncharacteristic of him to be so expressive with his face. Now that she perused him a second time in detail, it dawned on her that he hadn’t actually changed that much considering her son was now thirteen already and how stressful life in the pugilistic world was. Ming Feizhen always had the personality of a bully, but he used to bully people with a stern expression instead of wearing such exaggerated thug expressions.
“You’ve changed a lot.”
“And you haven’t?” replied Ming Feizhen.
Both of them found it quite unbelievable to meet again after so many years.
Unlike Ming Feizhen, Feng Huang came knowing Ming Feizhen was here, and she came prepared. Subsequent to looking around, she asked, “Where’s Zizi?”
“Not here. Kids like to play, so he’s probably gone off to play somewhere? I don’t know.”
Though Feng Huang was mad about Ming Feizhen’s nonchalant reaction, she put it aside fast. “That works out for the best. Ming Feizhen, let me make myself clear: I’m not here to catch up with you. I won’t let Zizi follow you.”
“Uh… I told you he’s not here.”
“Don’t play the fool. You know that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to take him as your disciple.”
Ming Feizhen had a feeling that Feng Huang would come knocking if he actually took Li Zizi on as his disciple, but he didn’t expect her to come knocking before he even took her son under his wing.
“If you have something to say, you can come see me. Whatever the case, I refuse to let you be Zizi’s shifu.”
Ming Feizhen nonchalantly bobbed his head. “Mm, mm, what do you want him to be? Emperor?”
“If that is His Majesty’s wish, I will not dispute it. Before that, however, I want my son to live a safe and healthy life; it doesn’t matter if he can’t become an Emperor or even a Prince. All I want is for my son to be safe and sound.”
“Go buy insurance, then. Why are you telling me?”
“Ming Feizhen! I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I will not allow you to lead my son into the bloody world… You think I don’t know you killed over a hundred warriors of the Three Rivers?” Feng Huang snapped in a shaky voice.
That was the primary reason she rushed to stop Ming Feizhen as soon as she found out it was him despite not being confident it was the white-haired youth from back then. It was all conjecture from a portrait and his background as a Mount Daluo disciple. Even so, the conjecture was enough for her to deem the covert night trip necessary.
Huang Feng knew the Ming Feizhen that his new friends and enemies didn’t know. She still woke with a fright when she had flashbacks of him slaughtering all the warriors back then. She didn’t want her son to tread the same violent path as him. No parent would ever wish for their children to. Ming Feizhen understood what she was getting at without her having to elaborate. That was just how it was between old friends – even if they were friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.
“Would you feel better if I told you that I never intended to take your son on as my disciple?”
Feng Huang looked a little brighter instantly. She was mentally prepared to become enemies prior to arriving in order to protect her son. She never thought the process to go so smoothly. “Wh-what do you mean by that? … Hey, what does that mean? What do you mean you ‘never intended to’? What’s wrong with Zizi?”
Ming Feizhen wagged his hand. “You’ve got it wrong. He has a good nature.”
“Of course. He’s my son, after all.” Feng Huang raised her chin as if she was the one who received a compliment. That was one her signature reaction whenever she was praised.
“It’s just that I’ve found my successor, so I don’t consider it very possible.”
Feng Huang was privy to the fact that Ming Feizhen spoke plenty of nonsense, but he was also a man of his word. “Wait, what successor? Do they have more talent than Zizi?”
Ming Feizhen tugged up a corner of his lips. “Of course not. You think talent is gifted so generously? There’s no guarantee you can find one like your son even if you conspicuously go around searching. He’s as talented in literacy as he is in martial arts. Even if he wasn’t born into the imperial family, he’s more than qualified to climb to a rank just beneath royalty.”
If someone wanted Feng Huang to be friendly, all they had to do was praise her son. Beaming, she responded, “Well, you don’t have to go that far. You’ll make him arrogant. Ah, but you’re not allowed to take him as your disciple.”
“My chosen successor isn’t great in any aspect, especially when it comes to being firm, which is terrible obstacle for a martial artist to excel. In saying that, unless he’s protected by the Mount Daluo name, he’ll probably die. In comparison, your Zizi will still go places without being my successor, so I have to make a choice between them.”
Notwithstanding not knowing the details, Feng Huang was unable to hide her joy over hearing the praise for her son. “Discovered how extraordinary my son is?”
Ming Feizhen smiled. “I duped your son into believing all the herbs and whatnot invested in him has ruined his potential to develop his internal energy in order to motivate him to train.”
“How could you say that? I consulted a lot of people before I dared to give Zizi supplements.”
“I bet. How else would you evolved his body into an ‘Ascended Body’?”
“You found out? I went through a lot to collect all the herbs. I’m glad all my years of investment haven’t gone to waste.”
“People with that body type will improve unbelievably fast no matter what discipline they learn, and having a good head would amplify their results. Even if his internal energy isn’t up to scratch, he has high chances of becoming a prodigy in his age bracket within three years.”
“Why did you fool him, then? To make motivate him?”
“Because I genuinely don’t intend to take him as my disciple.” Ming Feizhen shrugged. “On account of our friendship, I can’t just watch him die, so I’m just doing what I can.”
“What do you mean he’s going to die? You…”
“You’ve met his brothers. They’ve matured. It’s true that your Zizi has great potential, but are his competitors going to wait for that future to be realised? They’d kill him before he could.”
“They wouldn’t dare! His Majesty wouldn’t turn a blind eye to it.”
“He can’t stop them. He has the ability to, but his attention is divided. The Seven Champion White Princes have already occupied too much of his capacity. Moreover, he hasn’t named a successor while he is at the pinnacle of his rule. There’s nobody who can stop them. Accept that this is how treacherous your son’s future will be.”
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