Martial King's Retired Life

Standing atop a rock, Shen Yiren gazed at the canopy of navy, where the sun was beginning to bid farewell to the stars to take their nightly rest.

“Mount Wanyu’s foot is a hundred and fifty metres from here. The rambunctious voices are already audible from here. There are plenty of people who would like to see the chaos.”

Great Spirit Shaman invited the vassals of the four states that just lost their sovereigns and envoys of other states to Mount Wanyu so that Shaman Monarch could clarify what happened. As soon as they caught wind of it, nosy people, which almost made up half of the people there, flocked to the mountain. Even though there were hours to go before the commencement, Mount Wanyu was nigh packed to the gills.

Shen Yiren glanced to her side and quietly called, “Uncle.”

“At the council with Miss Ming last night, you wanted to keep him for Liu Shan Men. A man who can come up with daring and innovative ideas that others haven’t thought off is more than enough to be your trusted aide regardless of martial prowess or background. You have a good eye for talent.”

“… Are you insinuating that I have eyes but lack perception?”

Emperor Yuansheng smiled as he shook his head. “Plenty of things don’t go our way in life. I believe I’ve seen plenty of things and met many people in my forty-plus years of life. I can’t say everything unfolded how I preferred. The latest example is my attempt to convince Luo Clan to help that almost cost me my life. Until yesterday, nothing I said would’ve gotten through to Luo Ming. You have many years before you as much life experience as me. Isn’t it normal for you to lack perception?”

“… Ming Feizhen has his reasons. I believe he never would have done so if he had another option.”

“I’ve heard that argument already.” Emperor Yuansheng peered toward the clamouring. “You believe he did the right thing because you trust him. What if I told you I don’t trust him, though?”

“Uncle, why do you feel he cannot be trusted?”

“One’s trustworthiness is not measured only by what he has but his deeds… How strong is Ming Feizhen?”

Shen Yiren’s heart thumped harder.

“I take it your inability to answer is attributed to your reluctance to answer. I’ve never let the question out of my mind. Ever since he showed up, things have happened one after another. If we look back at it, from Cheng’er’s coup until now, he’s been involved in every event. In all the events, lives have been at risk, yet he has remained unscathed. He claims he is lousy at martial arts, however.

“Secondly, do you know what sort of reputation Ming Huayu has? The pugilistic world is a lot duller than when he was active. How can I be expected to believe his disciple is weak? Moreover, have you seen his siblings? Can you say any of them are inept?

“If he’s deliberately hiding his true skills to approach you and then plans to leverage you to get into politics, he can forget it. Even if that is not his intent, he is a perpetual liar, so I can’t give him all my trust.”

Listening to Emperor Yuansheng was the same as having her past thoughts read out to her. The difference between Shen Yiren and Emperor Yuansheng was that she chose to give Ming Feizhen the opportunity to come forth.

“Please give him some time. He will convince you to trust him.”

“Well, it’s almost time for it to start. Let’s go.”

“Have you thought about how to treat Ming Feizhen?”

“I will have someone test him to see if he truly is as lucky as we’re supposed to believe. If he is concealing his abilities, I will re-evaluate what to do with him.”

***

Gewu, sitting alone in the centre of his throne room, cheerfully watched the trails of blood seeping out of the bloody moat. He wanted to tidy himself prior to the big event. Infants’ blood accelerated his youth’s rejuvenation, allowing him to enjoy the event more thoroughly. For that reason, he pulled out his hidden stash of A-grade blood. Gewu utilised a unique method to ensure stored blood was kept fresh for extensive periods. This hidden batch came from the infants with the most potential and prestigious pedigrees.

Upon dipping his hand into the blood, Gewu’s hand revitalised much faster than usual. Transforming from a man in his forties to a man in his twenties heightened the experience that each age range blessed him with. Gewu subsequently submerged himself in the blood to absorb it into his body.

Demon Realm called this secret skill of theirs that was no longer known in the pugilist world “Blooddeer Retrograde”. In the erstwhile dynasty, a figurative demon used it as part of his skills to run amok. Besides restoring one’s youth, the practitioner also had the ability to use it as a means of stealing the unique traits of another’s martial arts in addition to their internal energy. The prerequisite for casting the skill was that the practitioner had the required mental fortitude, or they would kill themselves. If the target was ill, then the practitioner ran the risk of infecting themselves, too. The practitioner could only use it against someone equally skilled or weaker than them. Gewu primarily used the discipline on infants as his principal aim was to restore his youth.

Once Gewu absorbed blood, he needed to release blood, and the pain was miserable. In the meantime, he looked up at the last hidden vial of blood and brooded. That wasn’t blood of a royal family descendant or a guya. In the vial was blood of the Yanhui that Death Spirit Shaman extracted. Although it was tempting to see if he was the exception – he could enhance his martial prowess with it – a route in his brain sternly warned against it.

There was another man who was also a victim of blood. He had had isolated himself, so afraid to even speak now. Thinking of the man’s downfall and watching the ball outside bring golden luminesce to the world, Gewu grinned. “Go call the self-incarcerated Shaman Monarch. It is time!”