Ji Junshi advanced a few steps before halting. It seemed he noticed that Li Yan still lagged behind. Slowly, he turned his head back and said, "Since you've already decided to join my sect, there's no need to address me in those formal, adult terms any longer. From now on, you shall call me 'Teacher.' Hmm, you still seem worried about that upcoming Imperial Guard examination, don't you? Ha ha – worry not. Now that you are my disciple and I am stationed in the camp, you'll be working at my side. That is worth many times more than simply being in the Imperial Guard."
Li Yan's heart soared at these words. He thought to himself, "Being with my teacher is so much better than serving in the Guard—I must have been born under a lucky star." Yet even as his spirits lifted, he hesitated and fumbled with his words. Finally, he managed, "Teacher… about the monthly stipend… my parents at home… you see…"
Ji Junshi regarded him knowingly and replied, "Ah, you are indeed a filial son. Henceforth, your monthly pay will be at the level of a small unit leader—about 40% higher than what a regular Guardsman earns."
Hearing this, Li Yan's joy was immeasurable. He felt as if he had leaped into the clouds. In that moment, it seemed all his childhood dreams were coming true—now he could send more money home, and addressing his master as "Teacher" even felt natural.
Meanwhile, on the high platform outside the tent, Marshal Hong still reclined against a wide chair. He rested his right elbow on the armrest, his hand half-closed near his temple, and appeared drowsy in the afternoon light. Every now and then he would shift his gaze toward the examination area behind the wooden fence, only to return his attention back to the direction of the tent as if lost in deep thought.
This Marshal, whose name was Hong Linying, was none other than the Southwest Grand Marshal of the empire. He commanded a force of over 200,000 soldiers guarding the southwestern borders. Once a street urchin, he had chanced upon fortune when, at the age of eleven or twelve, he became a secular disciple of the famed Fatuo Temple—a sect renowned throughout the martial world for its secret, high-level techniques. Although, as an ordinary disciple, Hong Linying was never meant to learn the temple's core secrets, his ruthless nature and steely resolve pushed him to train relentlessly—often to the point of bone-breaking exertion.
In his five years at Fatuo Temple, Hong Linying had honed his skills to what many would call the level of a second-tier martial artist—a remarkable achievement considering he had only been taught the basic, entry-level techniques customary for secular disciples. In the martial world the rankings ran from transcendent "immortal" masters and unsurpassed heroes, down to first-, second-, and third-class fighters, and finally to those barely scraping by. It was said that even the founding emperor of this dynasty had built his reign on his mastery of "Taizu Changquan" (Taizu Long Fist)—a technique so potent that one set of moves could leave an enemy either dead or grievously injured. Although Hong Linying's methods were not as lightning-quick as those of his legendary predecessor, he had still reached a respectable plateau.
Later, when a high-ranking elder at the temple saw the raw talent in him, he recognized that although Hong Linying might someday become great, his fierce nature would never see him confined to the monkhood. Out of a mix of compassion and practicality, that elder treated his chronic injuries using an "inner medicine bath" and worked to open his meridians. He even passed on the internal method known as "Buddha Illuminates the Golden Body" as well as some advanced striking and staff techniques. Though these were not the temple's top-secret skills, they were far beyond what any ordinary disciple could master.
After another four years of rigorous training at Fatuo, Hong Linying emerged as a fully rounded martial artist—both internally and externally. With his brilliance, perseverance, and the elder's guidance, he managed to break into the top echelons of the martial world. It was then that Hong Linying resolved to leave the temple and make his mark in the world. On the eve of his departure, the elder solemnly warned him, "Linying, while your martial skills are formidable, you must not spill innocent blood. Do not indulge in wanton pillaging. Should you truly do so, the temple will send a monitoring monk to sever your head. Even if you reach a high official post or become a great warlord, your end will be sealed." Hong Linying agreed without hesitation.
Once on the battlefield, however, Hong Linying soon found that to achieve greatness you sometimes had to risk life and limb. He began at the bottom as a common soldier and fought in hundreds of battles. Unafraid of death, his ferocity on the field saw him promoted time and again. Eventually he rose to the rank of General. At Qing Shan Ai—a frontier city typically garrisoned by roughly 40,000 to 50,000 troops—Hong Linying was expected to remain at the central camp about thirty li to the north. Yet his love for battle drove him to personally lead his men to the very front lines, a trait that his fellow officers both admired and feared. Naturally, he left a deputy in charge of the main camp to coordinate reinforcements when necessary.
It was six years ago that Ji Wenhe—known henceforth as Ji Junshi—arrived at this very place. At the time, Hong Linying had only recently taken up his post at Qing Shan Ai. On the day Ji Wenhe entered the city he made his way unceremoniously to the main gate of the general's mansion and demanded an audience with the Marshal. The stubborn gate guards were not easily swayed by his demands, and after a few exchanges—and even some sleight-of-hand coercion on Ji Wenhe's part—the guards were rendered immobile by a single, sweeping gesture of his sleeve. Without further ado, Ji Wenhe strode straight into the inner palace. Along the way, several patrolling squads attempted to encircle and detain him; yet, astonishingly, after merely a brief encounter, every guard he met seemed frozen in place.
Later that day, as Hong Linying rested in the grand hall of the inner palace, he heard shouts and sensed activity. He then glimpsed a dark figure—a black-robed scholar—slipping silently into the hall. The Marshal, who had already experienced countless fierce battles over the years, was startled by the intruder's ghostlike light-footedness. In all his years of martial combat he had never seen anyone move so silently. When the figure finally halted, Hong Linying could make out a man in a black scholar's cap, roughly in his thirties and standing about seven feet tall. His long, narrow face was pale with an almost unnatural red flush, and a solitary whisker drifted across his chest. This man introduced himself as Ji Wenhe, explaining that he belonged to a reclusive sect within the martial world. Just a few months ago, while gathering herbs in the mountains, he had been poisoned by an unknown venomous creature. Despite months of treatment with numerous famed physicians, he found no cure. Now, he claimed, he could serve as a military aide—but only if the Marshal would select one man from among his troops to become his disciple. Ji Wenhe's sect was passed down in a single line; he had yet to take on an apprentice, and with the poison slowly eroding his life, he hoped that by transferring some of his inner power, he could extend his own lifespan by seven or eight years. In his eyes, ensuring his sect's legacy was paramount.
Hong Linying was taken aback by this unusual requirement. Initially, he suspected that such a formidable man might be here to extract a favor—or perhaps even to assassinate him. But after Ji Wenhe explained his conditions, Hong Linying, for his own self-preservation and wary of any hidden agenda, eventually agreed. After all, selecting one man from among the hundreds of thousands under his command to inherit a sect was a minor matter compared to the grand scale of military operations. And indeed, it was a task he could easily assign.
Not long after these arrangements, events began to unfold that would further astonish Hong Linying. Within a short period, the enemy launched two or three successive attacks. The first assault came after scouts reported enemy movements. After discussing strategies with his military advisers inside the Marshal's mansion, Hong Linying returned to his office only to be visited in the dead of night by Ji Wenhe. The black-robed man revealed details of the enemy's intended assault that Hong Linying himself had not learned from his own intelligence—or at least, had not been privy to all the nuances. Although Hong Linying had already appointed Ji Wenhe as an aide, he could not easily trust him; even though most of the details matched what he knew, there were discrepancies that suggested the possibility of additional intelligence being gleaned from beyond the city walls. Still, Hong Linying chuckled and thanked him, saying he would later discuss the matter with his officers. Ji Wenhe, after a slight smile, quietly turned and departed.
In the early hours of dawn the enemy suddenly struck. Hong Linying calmly led his troops out of the city to meet the assault—a maneuver he had anticipated. A great battle erupted outside the city, with carnage so massive that by daybreak both sides were utterly exhausted. As the enemy began a slow, disorderly retreat, Hong Linying also withdrew his forces back into the city.
On top of the main thrust, Hong Linying had deployed snipers on the flanks of the eastern and western hills, having already detected the enemy's attempt to use the wooded slopes for a pincer movement. Everything was proceeding according to plan—until, as his troops gathered at the city gate for evacuation, the ground suddenly trembled. A deep, thunderous rumble rolled in from afar. The already fatigued enemy soldiers in retreat split suddenly; from their midst emerged a wide open road through which a squadron of heavy cavalry thundered in. In just a dozen heartbeats, that cavalry crashed into the imperial soldiers who were in the midst of their retreat. The defenders, caught unprepared and unable to form a solid shield wall in time, were thrown into chaos as cries rose and bodies fell in a torrent of blood and flesh. Recognizing the dire situation, Hong Linying decisively ordered the city gates closed. Tragically, over ten thousand of his own soldiers were left trapped outside, forced into a desperate melee without proper protection against the armored onslaught. In roughly half an hour, nearly everyone outside was slaughtered.
Yet within that short span, Hong Linying had managed to rally about 20,000 surviving troops inside the city. He organized a layered defense on the ramparts and sent out swift messengers riding from the north gate to the central camp to call for reinforcements. Once fresh troops began pouring in from the north, the enemy, realizing that victory was impossible, sounded their retreat.