Chapter Four: The Powers of the World

Spring had passed and autumn returned; nine years had slipped by in the blink of an eye.

Su Bai sat on the threshold of the bamboo house, lost in thought. The nine years of growth had begun to shape his features, refining them into the outlines of a striking youth. His eyes were bright as stars, his teeth white as jade, and his bearing dignified and handsome. Cold light glimmered in his gaze, while his sword-like brows arched with the precision of a brushstroke. Draped in a white robe, he was every bit the elegant gentleman in this troubled world. Give him a few more years, and he would surely become a man of exceptional beauty.

Since being taken away by Li Sigou, Su Bai had found himself in this remote, desolate place. Bamboo surrounded him in every direction; even the house he lived in was made of bamboo. He had asked Li Sigou about his origins more than once, but the old man refused to say a word. Apart from instructing him to practice martial arts, Li Sigou spoke little else.

Staring at the endless bamboo forest before him, Su Bai pondered, “I’ve figured out who I am now, and what kind of world I’m in, but… this is just too absurd. This isn’t the Ming Dynasty I imagined at all.”

There was much about this world Su Bai did not understand. Over the years, he had read nearly every book his father had left behind in the bamboo house and gained a general sense of the world’s structure. This was no longer Earth. The landmass was about the same size, but its distribution was utterly different: all the continents were fused into one, reminiscent of the ancient supercontinent Pangaea. Such vast, unbroken lands had given rise to enormous empires.

Seven great empires ruled the world. Foremost among them was the Great Ming Empire, dominating the East. In resources and population, it surpassed all others. Several generations of emperors had expanded its borders, conquering vast territories stretching for tens of thousands of miles. The current emperor, whose reign was known as Jingming, had inherited this legacy of ambition and talent, though ill health now kept him increasingly from court.

To the north of Ming lay the Red Gold Khanate and the Mongol-Yuan Khanate. The Red Gold Khanate’s territory was half bitter cold, its border with Ming marked by desolate desert, leading to frequent raids and plundering of border villages. The Mongol-Yuan Khanate, also a nomadic people, lacked the harsh terrain of Red Gold but was no less formidable, its powerful cavalry inflicting great damage on Ming’s armies. Yet the natural barrier of a vast plateau, like Tibet’s, meant such large-scale conflicts were rare.

At the intersection of the three empires lay an immense inland lake. Legend claimed an immortal island floated at its center, though Su Bai suspected that part was the fanciful invention of some ancient author.

To the west, three nations sat from north to south: the Avasso Empire, the Great Wei Kingdom, and the Mirsar Kingdom. Of these, the most intriguing was Great Wei. Though Ming historians tried to erase the truth, most beyond the lowest commoners still remembered: it was once Great Wei that ruled the world, with Ming merely a vassal among many. But generations of corruption and incompetence in Wei’s royal line gave the founding Ming emperor his chance, overthrowing Wei and seizing the realm. Great Wei shrank to the west, its only defense the formidable Skaralat Mountains, and formed an alliance with the other two to resist Ming’s expansion. Meetings between the two peoples usually ended in violence—their enmity needed no explanation.

At the southernmost end lay Danhuan, a nation that struck Su Bai as peculiarly out of place. Compared to the other six, it was much weaker, yet no one ever attacked it. The sea separated it from the mainland; not far, but far enough to make any campaign against it unprofitable. The country was poor, but its fisheries thrived, and its navy was formidable, another reason few bothered to invade.

This world’s “Great Ming” was not the dynasty Su Bai knew, but a different nation in another realm.

Su Bai’s father was the renowned Grand Marshal of Ming, now retired as the Prince Guardian of the West. Though the frontiers had long been peaceful, these rival nations needed only to gather strength and wait for their chance to strike. It would not be long before they launched a counterattack, and then Su Qing, his father, might once again be called upon to hold the western borders.

“My father left me few books on court affairs,” Su Bai mused, “but quite a few on the martial world. I’ve come to realize how chaotic and tangled it is—a veritable nest of vipers.”

The martial world in Ming was a tangle of factions, numbering in the thousands, bandit kings rising and falling everywhere. Among these, six powers dominated: the Four Grand Academies, the Five Sword Pavilions, the Six Noble Houses, the Seven Demon Clans, the Eight Esoteric Orders, and the Nine River Gangs.

The Four Grand Academies were: Eastern Canglan, Western Mount Hua, Northern Wudang, and Southern Shaolin. Each commanded a cardinal direction and reigned supreme in their region.

The Five Sword Pavilions were Swordheart Valley, Divine Sword Pavilion, Cloud Sword Manor, Sword Tomb, and Celestial Pavilion. Originally there was but one, the Sword Pavilion, but a calamity split it into five. Though outwardly allied, each vied to be the true heir, making open and hidden struggles inevitable.

The Six Noble Houses included two descended from founding heroes Zhu Haoyang and Liu Jingran, closely allied and immensely powerful. Then there was Su Bai’s own Su family. Su Qing had earned the title “Desert Fox” on the northern steppes through his unmatched leadership and martial prowess, raising the Su clan to the ranks of the six great houses. Yet the other houses, especially the Zhu and Liu, often tried to undermine them in secret.

Most unique was the Shang family, “Merchants of the World,” whose wealth was said to rival a third of the imperial treasury. Many gifted men and outcasts had found shelter and fortune in the Shang household.

Then there was the Gu family, which by strict reckoning did not belong among the six, but three hundred years ago produced the legendary Gu Qingyun, now the grandmaster of Canglan Sect and the foremost martial artist alive. Though he had not shown his hand in nearly a century, none could challenge his supremacy, and so the Gu family rose from obscurity to join the ranks of the nobility.

Last was the reclusive Chu family. Only one member held office at court, but his power was immense—Chushanhe, Chief Inspector of the Six Gates, his authority rivaling even the commander of the Brocaded Guards.

The Seven Demon Clans included three—Gate of Life and Death, Sand Erosion Sect, and Hall of Nine Evils—who had so threatened the central plains that Shaolin and Canglan joined forces to drive them into the desolate northern wastes. Others included the Demon Suppression Office to the west, the Palace of a Hundred Charms to the east, the Demon Moon Sect to the southwest, and the mysterious Ghost King Sect, whose secrets in the heartland were known to none.

The Eight Esoteric Orders specialized in alchemy, forging, formations, soul control, and other arcane arts. Each focused on a separate discipline; among them, Xuanji Valley was especially favored by the royal family for its mastery of astrology and divination, its seat near the capital on Mount Haoyun.

The Nine River Gangs represented the underworld, with the Beggars’ Gang, the Kyushu Society, and the Red Flower Lodge as the three dominant powers. Most relied on river shipping for their income, though some had moved into other trades. The Beggars’ Gang was, as always, the exception.

In the parlance of the martial world, it was: Four Academies, Five Pavilions, Six Noble Houses; Seven Demon Clans, Eight Esoteric Orders, Nine Great Gangs.

The cultivation system was divided into three great stages:
Postnatal Realm: Bronze Skin, Tempered Bone, Refined Marrow, Heartguard
Prenatal Realm: Spiritual Focus, Transcendence, Thousand Paths, Grandmaster
True Martial Realm: Earthly Immortal, True Lord

Beyond the myriad sects, the imperial court had also planted its agents throughout. With so many factions, the empire could not simply let them run wild, or it would never know peace. Thus, the Six Gates—the imperial secret police—grew ever more important, handling the martial world’s affairs when the court could not intervene directly. Many martial artists joined them, some seeking fame, others fleeing old enemies, but most kept their distance. The Six Gates were called the court’s dogs, but only ever in whispers.

Through their mediation, the countless factions managed a precarious balance. Open warfare between great sects was rare; smaller gangs clashed constantly, but never seriously. In concert with the Brocaded Guards, the Six Gates had established three rankings:
Heavenly List: thirty-six, at or above the Grandmaster level
Earthly List: seventy-two, from Spiritual Focus to Thousand Paths
Mortal List: one hundred and eight, from Refined Marrow to Heartguard

These were more than mere rankings; they were badges of honor, especially for martial artists, who cared little for wealth but much for reputation. The lists were one of the court’s means of control.

Outwardly, the empire seemed stable, but within the palace, turmoil brewed. Su Bai had little concrete evidence, but even so, it was clear to him, for he was no ordinary nine-year-old.

Within the imperial residence, tranquility was a facade. The emperor, now in his twilight years (in this world, cultivation could greatly extend life, and some legends spoke of living four or five centuries), bore the hidden wounds of decades of warfare; his health grew worse by the day.

At such a time, the crown prince should have been more cautious, yet he let slip reckless words while drunk, speaking ill of the emperor and—carelessly or not—entered the chambers of a consort, nearly dishonoring one of the imperial ladies. On the surface, it seemed a loss of virtue and dignity, but any who understood court life knew better. The prince was fifty years old—could he really make such a childish blunder? Clearly, there were deeper currents at play.

Su Bai narrowed his eyes and muttered, “My own situation is not promising. Here in this bamboo house, I can neither observe the world nor fathom its true state. My so-called father is powerful, but his loyalty to the throne is absolute; with such power, the emperor must see him as a threat. I must grow stronger myself, for when the time comes, only my own strength will matter.”

Su Bai had realized, upon coming to this world, that without power, any hope of return was a distant dream. Only by climbing higher could he hope to unravel its secrets.

Suddenly, a flicker of cold determination flashed in his eyes. “The assassination attempt four years ago is still vivid in my memory. I still don’t know who wants me dead—no wonder my father hid me away in this godforsaken place. And even then, I nearly died.”

He was not unacquainted with death, but the hot blood spurting from a corpse’s chest had left him shaken to the core. The brush with death, so close at hand, made him realize this world was harsher than he had ever imagined.

From that day, he had devoted himself to understanding this world, spending four years reading every book his father had left, only to scratch the surface.

He walked to the side of the bamboo house, where the grave of his mother, Yu Nianci, lay. The grave was plain, offering no clue that a princess was buried there. A marble headstone bore her name in gold leaf: Yu Nianci. After marrying into the princely household, she had lived under the name Yu Qingyi. Su Qing did not want her to die without her true name, so he had the grave set beside Su Bai’s house—but he himself never visited. Perhaps it was shame, or perhaps he simply could not bear to stir old sorrows.

Su Bai knelt gently before the grave, bowing three times. Raising his head, he seemed to confide in its silent occupant. “You are my mother in this world, yet I never saw you, and now you rest here. If you have unfulfilled wishes, I will try to see them done. Somehow, I’ve ended up keeping vigil by your grave for years, and you are the first familiar soul I’ve found in this world—though you now lie beneath the earth.

“All I wanted was to return to the prince’s estate and live the carefree life of a young lord from some novel. I never asked for more. But the world is stronger than my wishes—what I want hardly matters. The court is on the verge of upheaval; even with scant evidence, it is plain to see that everyone is fanning the flames. The factions within the palace scheme endlessly, and each prince gathers what power he can to claim the throne.

“My father may have returned his command to the court, but unless he aligns with one of the princes, he will always stand in a perilous position—especially with his fame and the loss of his military power. The borderlands are never truly peaceful; sooner or later, my father will be called to arms again.

“But the emperor, already suspicious, cannot help but fear such a powerful subject—no matter how trusted once, a hero’s merit is always a threat to the throne. With the emperor’s health failing, he will fear his sons cannot command loyalty, and may well act against my father, whom he barely knows.

“I once suspected my brothers of orchestrating the assassination, but after so long, I realize none of them could have so formidable an assassin, nor strike so ruthlessly. Unless…the emperor’s own men have already begun to move. But how can I possibly defend myself against the next attempt?

“A wise man may plan for a thousand contingencies, but a single omission can spell disaster. The truth is, I simply am not strong enough!”

In this world, masters abounded like fish in the river. Every great sect had thousands, every lesser gang too many to count. How could the weak survive such a place?

The more he thought on it, the more anxious he became. “Why do other transmigrators always get some golden finger—some cheat or advantage? Even if it’s not outright invincibility, shouldn’t I get something at least?”

“Danger is everywhere here; a single misstep and I could lose my life. That damned old man won’t teach me any real martial arts—if something happens, I’ll have no means of defending myself. I can hardly talk my way out of death!”

His voice grew hoarse with agitation. “In my previous life, I was powerless, trampled underfoot. I refuse to walk that path again. This time—I will seize my own destiny!”