Chapter 7: Leaving the Capital

“I won’t be able to remain Commander for much longer.”

At last, Zhu Zaiyu let out a deep sigh, his words flowing gently from his lips.

It had been mentioned before: this Great Shuo bore a striking resemblance to the Ming Dynasty of Li Miao’s former life. And the situation Zhu Zaiyu faced now was not unlike a certain period in that same Ming history.

The reigning emperor had sat on the throne for over twenty years, growing feeble with age, and for many years had neglected affairs of state. At court, three factions—eunuchs, civil officials, and the imperial relatives—vied for power, their machinations weaving unseen currents beneath the surface.

For an institution as sensitive as the Embroidered Guard, its leader could never escape being drawn into these political battles.

Zhu Zaiyu had sensed this. Before his departure, he hoped to elevate his most trusted followers. First, to bequeath a political legacy to his subordinates while he still held power; second, to preserve some leverage for himself—at least enough not to be cast aside from the center of authority altogether.

The successor he had chosen was none other than Li Miao.

Li Miao had served under him for over two decades—his strengths and weaknesses were well known. He possessed grit, intelligence, and resourcefulness. In terms of martial prowess, though he rarely revealed his skills, Zhu Zaiyu was convinced he had quietly reached the pinnacle of mastery. In every respect, Li Miao was the most promising candidate.

His only flaw was an obstinate indifference—he’d only move when prodded, as if high office and lofty rank were lifelong enemies.

Zhu Zaiyu gazed at Li Miao and asked, “Li, why are you so unwilling to do anything?”

“A man cannot go a single day without power. Powerlessness is weakness, and weakness is a crime—one is doomed to be at the mercy of others.”

“I know your martial skills are exceptional, but unless you can become some sort of invincible sage, how could you possibly stand against the might of a well-drilled army?”

Li Miao smiled.

Cicadas cannot speak of winter to a summer insect. Zhu Zaiyu could never understand his perspective, for he had always viewed the world through the eyes of an ordinary, fragile, short-lived mortal.

What meaning was there in power? What meaning in wealth?

Born into a world where martial arts truly existed, most people treated martial skill as nothing more than a means to pursue power. But to Li Miao, who hailed from a tedious, materialistic world, that was an utter squandering of something precious.

What was martial arts? It was transcendence—it was the pursuit of the heart’s true nature.

Could power allow one to stroll through the edge of the woods, treading on blood-red maple leaves beneath the bright moon?

Could power let a man fling open his robes, spin wildly in the snow, and down a cup of scalding liquor?

Could power allow him to mete out justice as he pleased, to settle old scores with his own hand, to feel his blood surge with exhilaration?

Could power let him ride the waves and roam the world without fear of dying by the roadside?

No. But martial arts could.

As for all the nonsense of factional strife and the scramble for power, Li Miao cared for none of it. All he wanted was to refine his martial skills to a higher plane, to follow this path—unseen in his former life—to its very end, and see what sights lay there.

Take Yan Xiaosheng, for example. Li Miao didn’t care what profit could be gained from ending his life. He simply jabbed a finger into that scoundrel’s chest, condemning him to three days of agony before suicide—just for the sheer delight of it! Could he have done such a thing without martial arts? And if, after attaining such skill, he didn’t put it to use, what was the point of all those years of training?

These were not things he could explain to Zhu Zaiyu. The man could never comprehend it.

Just as a man born with sight could never imagine a blind man’s longing for color, Zhu Zaiyu could not grasp what martial arts meant to Li Miao, nor understand how utterly dull power seemed to him.

So Li Miao simply nodded and said, “I understand.”

Zhu Zaiyu whipped around, staring at him in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“I understand. How could I stand by and watch you lose your position? If there’s a major assignment outside the capital, I’ll take it,” Li Miao replied.

Zhu Zaiyu was left speechless for quite some time.

Eventually, he looked Li Miao up and down, asking warily, “Did you suffer a mishap while cultivating? Are you possessed or deranged?”

Li Miao couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve lectured me for half the day, and now that I’ve agreed to help, you ask if I’ve lost my mind. A dignified official of your rank, toying with your subordinate for amusement?”

Zhu Zaiyu retorted angrily, “Don’t try to play the fool with me! If you were truly so obedient, would I have let you exasperate me for twenty years? What are you really plotting?”

“Wait—that can’t be it!”

A sudden realization seemed to dawn on Zhu Zaiyu. He narrowed his eyes at Li Miao.

“You… you’re not planning to fake your death on some mission outside the capital, then hide away in some remote backwater and live the lazy life, are you?”

“How could that be?” Li Miao replied earnestly. “It certainly wouldn’t be some remote hovel. I like good food and fun—I could never bear a life of hardship.”

“Get out!” Zhu Zaiyu barked. “Tell the truth!”

Li Miao knew that his eight-hour workday, by the standards of this feudal age, amounted to the height of indolence. This impression was deeply etched in Zhu Zaiyu’s mind—without a plausible explanation, he’d never get away with it.

So he spoke honestly, “I’ve more or less reached the peak of my martial training. After so much quiet, I’ve grown restless and thought I might as well go out and see the world.”

Li Miao was thirty-five now. Since joining the Embroidered Guard at fifteen, he had never left the capital.

Partly because martial arts fascinated him—he could train for twenty years and never grow bored.

Partly because this world was rife with vendettas and violence, far more brutal than his former life. Li Miao would not lightly set foot in the martial world without attaining a certain level of skill. The Embroidered Guard also provided an ideal environment for him to make use of his unique abilities.

And finally, Zhu Zaiyu had always relied on him, keeping him close in the capital for his own use.

Now, his skills had reached a level where there were few worthy opponents; his safety was assured.

Zhu Zaiyu had looked after him for years and now needed his help. And Li Miao himself, weary of tranquility, yearned to venture out and see this vast martial world with his own eyes.

Hearing this, Zhu Zaiyu finally nodded, albeit with some reluctance. “Now, that sounds like something you’d say.”

He turned back to his desk, picked up a document, and handed it to Li Miao. “Go see to this matter. The journey will take about a year, and if you handle it well, it’ll give me enough time to make arrangements for you.”

Li Miao glanced down at the paper. Bold characters leapt out at him.

“Eliminate the Five Peaks Sword Sect.”