Mu Bai

The midsummer sun poured down like molten gold from the cloudless azure sky, enveloping the entire Carefree Prince's Estate in a suffocating wave of heat.

The incessant chirping of cicadas, like countless dull saws grinding against nerves, only added to the unbearable sultriness.

The bluestone slabs of the training grounds were scorching hot, with distorted heat waves rising from their surfaces. From a distance, the entire area seemed to shimmer and sway.

In the cracks between the stones, a few resilient blades of grass had long since drooped, their leaves curled and yellowed, on the verge of turning to ash.

A row of tall paulownia trees by the edge of the field, usually lush and full, now looked as if their vitality had been drained. Their broad leaves hung listlessly, rustling dryly when the occasional breeze passed through.

"Hoo! Ha!"

Neat shouts echoed across the training grounds. Over twenty youths, clad in dark brown martial arts attire, were practicing in a square formation.

Most of them were around fifteen or sixteen years old, the elite guard prospects carefully cultivated by the estate.

Their clothes were already soaked through with sweat, leaving dark stains on their backs.

Bead-like sweat dripped down the youths' flushed cheeks, hitting the scorching stone slabs with a faint hiss before instantly vanishing into a wisp of white smoke in the heat haze.

Leading them was Martial Instructor Zhao Meng, a man eight feet tall with a broad back and a powerful physique. His bronze skin gleamed under the sun.

The black belt around his waist, embroidered with a fierce tiger descending the mountain, was particularly striking, swaying with his every powerful movement.

With each demonstration move Zhao Meng made, the knotty muscles all over his body bulged like small mountains, showcasing astonishing explosive power.

"Keep your stance steady! Punch with ferocity!" Zhao Meng's voice boomed like muffled thunder over the training grounds. "Remember, when facing an enemy, it's either you die or I die. There's no room for fancy moves!"

The youths gritted their teeth, repeating the basic movements over and over as instructed.

Their fists were already blistered, and their legs trembled from holding the horse stance for so long, yet not one dared to slack off. Instructor Zhao's strictness was notorious throughout the estate; any lapse would result in double the punishment.

Under the shade of the trees at the edge of the field, however, the scene was entirely different.

A delicate rosewood tea table was laden with iced fruits and cool tea, crystalline water droplets slowly tracing paths down the sides of the glass cups.

Mu Bai reclined on a rattan chair covered with a cool mat, gently fanning himself with a folding fan. The cluster of green bamboo painted on the fan swayed with his movements, as if bringing a hint of a bamboo forest breeze.

He wore a moon-white robe adorned with cloud patterns today, and the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist glowed with a warm luster in the sunlight.

This attire stood in stark contrast to the youths sweating profusely in the training grounds, making him appear even more refined and out of place in the sweltering summer heat.

"Young Master, would you like to try some of this iced plum juice?" The attendant, A'Fu, bowed as he carefully offered a celadon bowl. "It's freshly made by the kitchen, with honey and mint. It's the best for beating the heat."

Mu Bai lazily accepted the bowl and took a small sip, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "Not bad, a good balance of sweet and sour." He then added, "A'Fu, go tell the kitchen to make some iced mung bean soup for tonight as well."

"Yes, I'll go right away." A'Fu was about to withdraw when he hesitated and stopped. "That... Young Master, the Prince was asking about your martial arts progress yesterday..."

The fan in Mu Bai's hand paused for a moment before he resumed fanning himself as if nothing had happened. "What's the rush? Practicing martial arts isn't something done overnight." He pointed at the youths in the training grounds, who were drenched in sweat. "Look at them. They've been practicing for so long, and they're still just amateurs, aren't they?"

A'Fu wanted to say more but ultimately lowered his head and retreated to the side.

As his personal attendant, he knew his master's temperament all too well.

The Young Master had no interest in martial arts or studies, spending his days solely on eating, drinking, and having fun.

Mu Bai gazed at the figures practicing in the field, his eyes gradually drifting into the distance.

No one knew that the soul currently occupying this body was from another world.

On a stormy night eighteen years ago, he, a failed writer from Earth, had inexplicably transmigrated to this fictional dynasty, becoming the Young Master of the Carefree Prince's Estate.

"Young Master!"

A loud shout interrupted Mu Bai's thoughts.

Zhao Meng had approached without him realizing it, exuding a strong scent of sweat and heat.

He cupped his fist in a salute, sweat streaming down his bronze face. "Young Master, please offer some guidance on today's fist technique practice."

Mu Bai inwardly cursed his bad luck, but his face broke into a smile. "Instructor Zhao, you've worked hard. I think the weather is very hot today, why not let everyone rest early?"

Zhao Meng frowned. "Young Master, the Prince specifically instructed that you must practice for at least two hours every day. For the past half month, you've been..."

"Oh, it's just that I'm not feeling well." Mu Bai feigned a cough, "The imperial physician said a few days ago that my constitution is cold and weak, and I shouldn't overexert myself."

Zhao Meng stared at Mu Bai's ruddy complexion, his lips twitching.

He had witnessed the Young Master's laziness firsthand. Last month it was a fake leg injury, the month before that a fake headache – he had tried every trick in the book. But the Prince's orders were difficult to defy, so he could only brace himself and continue to persuade, "Young Master, if you don't practice anymore, I really won't be able to account for it to the Prince..."

"Alright, alright." Mu Bai waved his hand impatiently. "I'll definitely practice tomorrow, I promise."

Just as the two were at an impasse, a commotion suddenly arose from a distance.

Several guards in black uniforms were escorting a raggedly dressed man, who hurried through the corridor.

The man's face was covered in blood and grime, yet he struggled and shouted, "You are all doomed... everyone in this estate... will not escape death..."

Mu Bai's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively sat up straighter.

There seemed to be some important information hidden within the madman's shouts.

But then he thought, why should he, a dissolute young master, concern himself with such trivial matters?

"Young Master?" Zhao Meng looked at the suddenly distracted Mu Bai with confusion.

"Huh? Oh..." Mu Bai snapped back to attention, resuming his lazy demeanor. "Instructor Zhao, look over there, is something happening? Why don't we go take a look?"

Zhao Meng glanced back and shook his head. "Just catching a madman. The city has been restless lately, some people are just spouting nonsense." He turned back to Mu Bai, his tone firm, "Young Master, no matter what, you must practice for at least half an hour today."

Mu Bai inwardly groaned, thinking of another excuse, when he suddenly caught sight of a figure darting past the corner of the corridor.

The person was acting suspiciously, seemingly clutching something in their hand that glinted a dark red in the sunlight.

A wax seal? Mu Bai squinted.

Drawing on his past life's experience as a novelist, he knew this was definitely not a good sign. But before he could ponder further, Zhao Meng pulled him towards the training grounds without another word.

"Young Master, today we'll practice the most basic Fierce Tiger Fist. I will spar with you personally."

Mu Bai looked at Zhao Meng's fist, as large as a sand pot, and gave a wry, helpless smile.

Looks like I can't avoid this today...

Just then, the urgent sound of horse hooves suddenly came from the direction of the Prince's Estate's main gate, followed by the orderly kowtows of the guards: "Welcome back, Your Highness!"

Zhao Meng's movements froze. Mu Bai, feeling as though he'd received a great pardon, seized the opportunity to break free. "My father is back! I need to go welcome him!" Without waiting for Zhao Meng's reaction, he took off like a shot.

Zhao Meng watched Mu Bai's retreating figure and sighed helplessly.

This Young Master was neither scholarly nor martial, a stark contrast to his two younger brothers.

The second son, Mu Yu, had achieved the top rank in the imperial examinations at a young age and now held an important position in the court. The third son, Mu Tang, was an even greater martial arts prodigy, rumored to have already touched the threshold of becoming a Martial Master. Only this eldest Young Master...

Forget it, that's enough for today. Zhao Meng waved his hand, signaling the young men to disperse.

He looked up at the increasingly scorching sun, wiped the sweat from his face, and strode towards the main hall of the Prince's Estate.