Chapter Six: The Young Master Li's Counterattack

When everyone had finally dispersed, only the Lady of the House remained in the grand hall, her expression dark and brooding, with the old nursemaid Wu Nanny by her side. Wu Nanny had nursed the Lady since childhood and was brought along when the Lady married into this household. The Lady was ruthless by nature, frequently engaging in deeds best left unseen by daylight, most of which were executed by Wu Nanny herself.

Seeing the Lady’s twisted, grim face, Wu Nanny asked with concern, “Miss, shall I find someone to deal with that wretched child…” As she spoke, she drew a cutting gesture across her neck, her features contorted with malice.

The Lady looked at Wu Nanny, considered for a moment, and replied, “That won’t do. The Marquis’s residence is heavily guarded. Loyalists of the Marquis are everywhere. Though we have bought off some, there’s always the risk of loose tongues. Such an act would only startle the snake and spoil our plans.”

“No, Miss, there’s a fortune-teller on the main street—his powers are profound, his abilities vast. He commands spirits and ghosts. If we employ him, I guarantee that wretched child will die without a trace,” Wu Nanny suggested, recalling the fortune-teller’s supernatural talents. She had once hired him to silence a scholar who had threatened to report the Second Young Master. The Second Young Master had forcibly taken a woman; she took her own life, but her fiancé, a poor scholar, sought justice. Wu Nanny had the fortune-teller eliminate him. The authorities found no clues, and the body was unmarked.

Thinking how this time, too, the death of Shangguan Chuanyun could be arranged without anyone the wiser, she pressed her point. “The Marquis’s mansion is grand and noble, warding off spirits and demons. How could such a sorcerer enter?” the Lady asked, a hint of doubt in her eyes. The capital was the heart of the empire, blessed with the nation’s fortune and protected by imperial fate. Though rumors of evil-doers abounded elsewhere, the prosperous capital remained untouched. The Great Liang Dynasty was devoted to Daoism, with all temples built outside the city walls; not one within. No evil energy could approach—how then could the fortune-teller perform his arts? She voiced her confusion.

Wu Nanny, seeing the Lady’s doubts, explained, “Though spirits and ghosts cannot enter grand estates, this fortune-teller is different. He uses paper figurines and horses as vessels. Our mansion can keep out the supernatural, but not inanimate objects.”

Seeing the Lady still wavering, Wu Nanny added, “The last time, it was the fortune-teller who helped with the Second Young Master’s trouble.”

The Lady, recalling how her second son Shangguan Fengyun had seized a scholar’s fiancée—only for the girl to take her own life—nodded. The scholar had tried to file a complaint, and Wu Nanny had handled it, though the details were unknown to her. Now convinced, she gave her approval.

In the study of the Marquis of Wu’an, Shangguan Jin, a place none dared enter without his permission, the Marquis sat. In his youth, Shangguan Jin had been the top scholar in the imperial examinations, later serving as an academician in the Hanlin Academy. Abandoning the pen for the sword, he distinguished himself in battle, was made a general, and became involved in the crown prince’s succession. Aligning with the Third Prince, he married the daughter of General Liu Xian, uniting with General Zhenyuan to support the Third Prince’s ascent. The now-reigning emperor, Li Dihuang, rewarded him with the title Marquis of Wu’an, Imperial Tutor to the Crown Prince, and a rank of the highest order—powerful and esteemed.

Moreover, Shangguan Jin was a master of martial arts, a transcendent among men.

The path of martial cultivation began with forging the body as one, laying the foundation, then nurturing strength to temper sinews, bones, and skin—known as the Bright Strength phase. Comprehending yin and yang, one tempered the viscera with vibrating power—this was called Dark Strength. Mastery allowed one to harness power into the blood, refining the marrow—this was the Marrow-Refining stage, also known as Transforming Strength. If one could comprehend life and death, transcending mortality, forming the Human Immortal Pill, one became a Human Immortal.

Such beings were resilient, seldom ill, yet unless they grasped the Dao and awakened the spirit within, their allotted years would end, and they would return to the cycle of reincarnation.

The Marquis of Wu’an, Shangguan Jin, was just such a Human Immortal. At this moment, he sat in his study, holding a volume titled “The Art of War,” leafing through its pages.

The study was redolent with antique sandalwood, stretching a hundred paces long. Several towering shelves were filled with tens of thousands of books. A rosewood desk stood adorned with a jade brush holder, a gold paperweight, a fragrant incense wood pen rack, and an inkstone of deep violet-green stone. The air was perfumed with a subtle fragrance, invigorating the mind—every detail a testament to the master’s eminent status.

Shangguan Chuanyun stood beside the desk, head bowed, eyes fixed on his nose, nose to his heart, heart to his dantian, as though oblivious to all but himself, his spirit wandering beyond his surroundings.

A quarter of an hour passed; both remained as they were.

Half an hour passed; one still read, the other stood with serene composure.

An hour passed; Shangguan Jin, unable to sit any longer, finally stirred. He had summoned his son here to make him confess his wrongdoing, believing he knew exactly what his son had done.

Yet, after all this time, nothing happened. The boy seemed lost in his own world. Shangguan Jin thought of his six sons and five daughters, his high rank and fortune. His eldest two sons were born of his principal wife. The eldest, Shangguan Hongyun, lacked character and promise; the second, Shangguan Fengyun, was idle and dissolute. His third son, by his second wife, was a gentleman but weak-willed and indecisive.

His fourth and sixth sons were by his third wife, Lady Jia. The youngest, Shangguan Qingyun, only nine, was clever but too young to judge. The fifth son, by a concubine, was devoted to martial arts but reckless and, being of lesser birth, not fit for great things.

The fourth son, after twelve years in a stupor, had awoken with a mature mind, methodical in action, shrewd, vengeful, and unlettered. Yet, today, he seemed clever and courageous—if only he could curb his idleness, he might become truly worthy.

But seeing Shangguan Chuanyun’s current demeanor, Shangguan Jin was exasperated. He longed to give the boy a good kick. Glaring at his son, he said, “You were indeed wrong today.”

“Yes, Father,” replied Shangguan Chuanyun without hesitation.

Shangguan Jin nodded, relieved that the situation had not escalated. Though his wife, Lady Liu, was domineering in the household, she was still the Marquis’s lady. If this matter reached public offices, the Shangguan family’s reputation would suffer, and General Liu Xian might be implicated. The emperor would be placed in a difficult position—General Zhenyuan commanded three hundred thousand troops on the northern border. The Great Liang faced both internal and external troubles: barbarians invaded yearly, natural disasters plagued the land, and evil spirits ran rampant. The emperor’s obsession with alchemy only added to the turmoil.

He asked, “Do you know where you were wrong?”

“If Father says I was wrong, then I was wrong,” replied Shangguan Chuanyun, feigning innocence.

Shangguan Jin was so frustrated that his knuckles cracked. Never had he been so vexed in court—yet his own son had driven him to this point. He could hardly restrain himself from striking the boy.

Noting his father’s predatory posture, Shangguan Chuanyun glanced anxiously at the door, thinking to himself that if his father moved, he would flee. Though his swordsmanship was profound and his breath channeled through the governor vessel, he could not yet match a Human Immortal in direct combat. Still, he might wound one with a surprise attack—but this was his own father. He could not possibly raise his sword against him.

Secretly, he adjusted his stance to prepare for a swift escape. He might not win a straight fight, but in flight, no sword immortal could rival him.

Shangguan Jin, a martial arts master, saw through his intentions at once and, amused, relaxed his imposing aura.

Shangguan Chuanyun, however, dared not relax, wary of a sudden attack—he had seen Shangguan Hongyun’s state today, and who knew if it was hereditary.

Seeing his son still tense, Shangguan Jin sighed. “You were lost in a stupor for twelve years and learned little in the way of letters or arms. Yet, you wear a sword, so you must be skilled in martial arts. In that, I shall not instruct you.”

Hearing this, Shangguan Chuanyun breathed a sigh of relief. He truly feared his father would teach him martial arts. In his previous life, in pursuit of longevity, he had studied countless schools of martial arts. Though the principles differed between worlds, the essence was the same. Ultimately, he pursued the Way of the Sword Immortal, as it offered hope of immortality. The swordsmanship he learned was passed down from immortals, pointing directly to the Great Dao, and he had no interest in distractions.

The Marquis’s residence was tightly guarded—nothing escaped Shangguan Jin’s notice. It was impossible for Shangguan Chuanyun to practice swordsmanship without his father’s knowledge.

Then his father continued, “But the classics of sages must not be neglected. Each morning, you will come to the study to learn. Read to understand, to comprehend reason—nothing more.”

Shangguan Chuanyun nearly staggered. He had no ambition to become a scholar; literacy sufficed for him. If there were Daoist scriptures or precious records, he would gladly read, for they elevated the spirit and inspired insight. But the classics held little interest for him.

Yet, seeing his father’s unyielding expression, he swallowed his protest.

With a resigned look, he replied, “Yes, Father.”

Shangguan Jin, seeing his son’s compliance, finally felt at ease. So the boy was not utterly intractable—he had finally been caught. He waved his hand. “You may go. From now on, come here each morning at dawn.”

Resigned, Shangguan Chuanyun surveyed the study’s expanse, steeled himself, bowed to his father, and said, “Yes, your son takes his leave.”