Chapter 22: Kick Over This World

Stay away from the Chen imperial family.

After saying those words, Murong Qiushui refused to utter another syllable.

Those six words carried too much weight; even as Li Guanyi lay on the broken stone bed, they still echoed in his ears—the Chen imperial family. That name naturally carried weight, compounded by his aunt’s words: he could only learn of his past once he left Chen territory.

This stirred all manner of speculation in Li Guanyi’s mind.

Could it be the Chen imperial family that poisoned me?

Or were my parents I’ve never met, and my uncle, murdered by the Chen imperial family?

Or perhaps…

One thought after another spun through Li Guanyi’s mind.

But every thought was grim.

Staying within Chen borders posed a grave threat to both himself and his aunt—this place was unsafe; he must leave quickly. Yet Chen was a great nation, its system complete, towering like a colossus over any individual, utterly unshakable.

Li Guanyi rolled over.

Flat on his back, on his side—he still couldn’t sleep.

Thoughts rose in his mind like bubbles boiling in water, one after another.

Ten years.

They had fled for ten full years. In that decade, his aunt had raised Li Guanyi from a three-year-old child to a thirteen-year-old boy, and their journey had brought them perilously close to Chen’s borderlands.

Yet much remained lacking.

He needed official household registration in a major city.

To cross the border, he required a travel pass.

In wartime, obtaining a border-crossing pass at the national level required vermilion approval from the Border Office; beyond the pass, iron-horsed archers patrolled, and any smuggler without proper documentation could be slain on sight.

He also needed martial skill and enough gold to survive once outside Chen.

Each item, each requirement, was a burden.

Li Guanyi tossed and turned, unable to sleep—as if his body rebelled against his mind. He sat up abruptly, tracing patterns on the thin cloth covering his bed, then arranged porcelain vases and trinkets. Ordinary people knew nothing of the world’s grand scheme.

Li Guanyi had fled for ten years, seen countless people, pieced together fragmented scraps of information—he held a hazy understanding of this world.

The Jiangnan region and part of the Central Plains belonged to Chen.

Controlling riverways and natural defenses, it was the most culturally flourishing land—placed a silver coin.

Northward lay Ying, which held the Central Plains and northern territories, having seized parts of Jiangnan.

Grand and imperial, it claimed the Central Plains and gazed upon the realm—placed a large bowl.

Beyond the northern passes lay the vast grasslands, home to the Turkic Khaganate, famed as the supreme cavalry power, even larger than Chen.

West of Ying lay the Tuyuhun, mustering troops in the Western Regions, equally vast.

Between the Tuyuhun and the mighty Turkic tribes stretched a vast region teeming with countless ethnic groups; in the northeast corner where Ying and the Turkic tribes overlapped lay another vast territory ruled by the Khitans, Rouran, Wu Luo Marquis, and other barbarian clans.

Spring night fell, stars bright.

The boy sat cross-legged atop his stone bed; the evening breeze brought faint insect chirps. His dark eyes reflected the trinkets laid before him—this was the first time he had truly opened his eyes to the world’s full scope.

A chipped earthen bowl, a white jade pill vial, a single silver coin.

Fragments arranged in various patterns.

Chaotic.

Yet at a glance—it was the entire realm.

All within my grasp.

Li Guanyi stared at the bowls and chopsticks spread across his bed, his brow twitching.

The realm had been in chaos for three hundred years.

The entire world had become a boiling mess.

The nominal sovereign, the Great Emperor, now huddled in Zhongzhou—merely a figurehead.

Barbarian clans fought each other; Ying, to the north, battled the Turkic, Tuyuhun, and Rouran while sneaking blows at Chen—twelve years ago, it seized the eighteenth province of Jiangnan. Chen, facing only Ying to the north and holding its wealthy lands, remained largely at peace.

Beyond these great powers, countless minor tribes and warlords must surely dot the buffer zones, not to mention deserters turned bandits, and martial clans of the Jianghu—no wonder the era brimmed with wandering heroes, so utterly chaotic.

Li Guanyi sat cross-legged, staring at the bowls and chopsticks arranged into his “map of the realm.”

His eyebrows knotted into a tangle. He cursed: “What a damned world.”

Yet considering the terrifying power of Yue Qianfeng—who could shatter a mountain peak even while gravely wounded—it was no surprise the realm had remained divided for three centuries.

Li Guanyi settled on his course of action.

First, strengthen his strength. Then, acquire wealth.

Only then could he leave Chen.

He needed at least a hundred taels upon entry—no, three hundred taels of silver! Only then would he be safe.

Li Guanyi set himself a vast, daunting goal. Once his mind was clear, exhaustion washed over him.

Pata.

The boy flopped backward, limbs spread, staring at the weeds sprouting through the roof.

Sleepiness came.

He stretched out. Yawned.

Fist topples Chen. Feet crush the Turkic.

He rolled over and slept.

And kicked over the entire “realm.”

The side bed lay empty.

……………………

After waking, though Li Guanyi had tossed and turned all night, his superior internal energy left him refreshed. He bought cheap pastries, bid farewell to neighbors with gifts, then hired an ox cart to move his belongings to his new residence.

The courtyard was small but tidy; the well’s mouth was lined with clean blue bricks.

Entering, the main house held two bedrooms; to the left stood a guest room, to the right, the kitchen and storage room. Near the well lay a small cellar. The furniture was sturdy wood, lacquered against insects. The house faced the street, close to shops.

In Guanyi City, it was a suitable, modest yet respectable home. Notably, the driver Zhao Da Bing had come again in a Xue family carriage, adorned with Xue family insignia.

Li Guanyi noticed the neighbors, who had previously watched him and his aunt with suspicion, now softened their expressions with astonishing speed, radiating warmth and goodwill.

Li Guanyi and his aunt ate their first meal in the new home.

A fish stewed plainly, two vegetable dishes, steamed white rice.

Afternoon came. Li Guanyi changed into new clothes: blue robe, leather belt, jade pendant at his waist, his brow clear and bright.

He set off toward the Xue residence.

Though Guanyi City was large, two kinds of news spread fastest: news about oneself, and news about the Xue family.

Thus, word quickly spread through Huichun Hall that Li Guanyi, recently dismissed, had found new work with the Xues and moved homes. Some clerks regretted not cultivating a better relationship with him; others planned visits to mend ties.

Only the old shopkeeper sat unmoving, poring over medical texts, his face like a withered wooden chicken.

Old Doctor Chen, sipping tea with goji berries, basking in the sun, said lazily: “Today I’ll tell you a strange tale.”

The old shopkeeper said: “Go on.”

Old Doctor Chen said: “I heard the young master returned home last night and was whipped by his father—two leather belts snapped, he screamed and cried all night.”

“What’s strange about that?”

Old Doctor Chen laughed: “Finally, the young master’s mother wept and pleaded for him to be let down. A physician was called.”

“Hey, guess what? Just skin deep.”

Old Doctor Chen slapped his thigh and roared with laughter: “Whipped all night, left him screaming in agony—but not a single bone or tendon damaged. Old Master’s medical skill is still sharp; his mastery of human nature? Even sharper.”

Old Doctor Chen raised his thumb. “Too bad he sired a coward of a son.”

The old shopkeeper didn’t care.

Old Doctor Chen said: “Li Guanyi is rising. All the clerks at Huichun Hall are scrambling to get close. You helped him—why not visit him?”

The old shopkeeper said: “No.”

Old Doctor Chen chuckled: “You’re odd. When others avoid someone, you rush to help—even spend your own money. But when everyone else rushes toward them, you pretend not to see. Why?”

The old shopkeeper’s eyes were small and dark, his gray robe long-worn, speckled with white ash: “The boy’s life is hard. I help because it’s my inner rule. I help for myself, not to wait for him to rise and come thanking me. The more others flock to him, the more I avoid him—fearing he’ll come to thank me.”

Old Doctor Chen laughed, scolding: “What a stubborn bone.”

The old shopkeeper said nothing. At the end of the afternoon shift, he strolled to the tavern, ordered a cup of wine for one cash. But the fat tavern keeper brought him a better cup. The old shopkeeper frowned: “You’ve brought the wrong one.”

“Wrong? No mistake. No mistake.”

The fat tavern keeper grinned: “That boy you brought here left it for you. And this—here.”

He placed a jar of fine wine down. “He came today, left this jar for you.”

The old shopkeeper froze. The tavern keeper chuckled:

“You two are interesting. You wrote him a recommendation, gave him a month’s salary—no charity, no condescension, no debt of gratitude. He gives you a jar of aged wine—no thanks, no flowery promises, no stink of coin changing hands.”

“No tangled strings, no roundabout games—yet damn, it’s clean, honest, full of heart.”

“This is the brotherhood of the marketplace.”

The old shopkeeper listened as the tavern keeper laughed.

He lifted the ten-cash cup, tilted his head back, drank it down, a faint smile curling at his lips.

Fine wine.

Full of fiery spirit.

Intoxicating.

………………

Li Guanyi was walking down the road when he suddenly saw a crowd gathered ahead.

He caught a glimpse through the crowd of the elaborately dressed imperial guards, who had unrolled a scroll and shouted: “A fugitive has entered from outside; anyone who spots his trail will be rewarded with silver!”

Fugitive?!!

Li Guanyi halted his steps.

Could it be that Yue Qianfeng has returned?

(End of Chapter)