Mu Bai

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

Cicadas chirped incessantly, sounding like countless blunt saws grating against people's nerves and adding a touch of unbearable stuffiness.

The bluestone slabs of the martial training ground were baked scorching hot, and distorted heat waves rose from their surfaces. Viewed from afar, the entire venue seemed to shimmer slightly.

In the cracks between the stone slabs, a few stubborn little blades of grass had long since wilted with drooping heads, their leaves curled and yellowed, ready to turn to ashes at any moment.

A row of tall phoenix trees along the edge of the field, usually lush and leafy, now looked as though their vitality had been drained away. Their broad leaves drooped listlessly, occasionally rustling dryly as a breeze swept past.

Heh! Ha!

Rhythmic shouts echoed across the martial training ground, where over twenty youths dressed in dark brown martial attire were lined up in a square formation drilling.

Most of them were around fifteen or sixteen years old, serving as the budding guards meticulously cultivated by the estate.

Sweat had already soaked through their garments, leaving dark patches staining their backs.

Beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down the youths' flushed cheeks, dripping onto the scorching stone slabs to make a faint sound before instantly turning into wisps of white smoke that dissipated in the heat waves.

Zhao Meng, the chief martial instructor, stood eight feet tall with a tiger's back and bear's waist. His bronze-colored skin gleamed with an oily luster in the sunlight.

The black belt around his waist, embroidered with a Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain, was particularly striking, swaying incessantly with his forceful movements.

Every time Zhao Meng performed a demonstration, his knotted muscles bulged like small mounds, displaying astonishing explosive power.

Stances must be solid! Punches must be ruthless! Zhao Meng's voice exploded like muffled thunder over the martial training ground. Remember, in combat it is either you who die or I who perish, and there is no room for fancy showmanship!

The youths clenched their teeth, repeating the basic movements over and over according to the instructions.

Blood blisters had already formed on their fists, and their legs trembled uncontrollably from holding horse stances for too long, yet no one dared to slack off in the slightest. Instructor Zhao's sternness was notoriously famous in the estate, and the slightest slackness would invite doubled punishment.

Beneath the shade of the trees at the edge of the field, however, it was an entirely different scene.

An exquisite red sandalwood tea table was set with iced fruit and cold tea, with crystal-clear water droplets slowly sliding down the glass cup's surface.

Mu Bai half-lay in a rattan chair lined with a cool mat, lightly waving a folding fan in his hand. The cluster of emerald bamboo painted on the fan swayed gently with his movements, as if it could truly bring a trace of breeze from a bamboo grove.

He wore a moon-white cloud-patterned brocade robe today, and the suet jade pendant hanging at his waist emitted a warm luster in the sunlight.

This attire formed a sharp contrast with the youths sweating profusely on the field, making his temperament all the more refined and utterly out of place with the scorching midsummer.

Young Master, would you like to taste this iced plum soup? The valet A'Fu bowed as he cautiously handed over a celadon bowl. It was just freshly made in the kitchen, with honey and mint added, making it the most refreshing.

Mu Bai lazily took the bowl, took a small sip, and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction: Not bad, moderately sweet and sour. A'Fu, go tell the kitchen to make some iced mung bean soup tonight.

Understood, this servant will go right now. A'Fu was about to withdraw when he hesitated and paused his steps. Um... Young Master, the Prince asked about your martial arts progress again yesterday...

The fan in Mu Bai's hand paused, then resumed waving as if nothing were the matter: What's the rush? Practicing martial arts isn't a matter of a day or two. He pointed at the sweating youths on the field. Look at them, they've practiced for so long, aren't they still dabbling in superficial tricks?

A'Fu wanted to speak but stopped, ultimately lowering his head and retreating to the side.

As a personal valet, he knew his master's temper all too well.

The Young Master could not work up any interest in martial arts or reading, spending all day thinking only of eating, drinking, and making merry.

Mu Bai gazed at the figures drilling on the field, but his gaze gradually drifted into the distance.

No one knew that the soul occupying this body at this moment came from another world.

On that thunderous and rainy night eighteen years ago, he, originally a struggling webnovel author on Earth, had inexplicably transmigrated to this fictional dynasty and become the Young Master of the Carefree Prince's Estate.

Young Master!

A loud call interrupted Mu Bai's thoughts.

Zhao Meng had already walked up close at some point, radiating a heavy scent of sweat and heat.

He cupped his fists in salute, sweat streaming across his bronze face: I ask the Young Master to give guidance on today's boxing practice.

Mu Bai cursed inwardly while piling a smile onto his face: Instructor Zhao has worked hard. Seeing that the weather is so hot today, how about letting everyone rest early?

Zhao Meng's thick brows furrowed: Young Master, the Prince specifically instructed that you must practice for at least two hours every day. For the past half month, you have...

Ah, my health hasn't been feeling well, you see. Mu Bai fake-coughed twice. The imperial physician said just a few days ago that my constitution is deficient and cold, making me unsuited for excessive fatigue.

Zhao Meng stared at Mu Bai's ruddy complexion, the corners of his mouth twitching.

He had witnessed this Young Master's laziness before—feigning leg injuries last month, feigning headaches the month before last, coming up with endless tricks. But the Prince's orders were hard to disobey, so he could only bite the bullet and continue persuading: Young Master, if you don't practice anymore, this subordinate truly has no way to answer to the Prince...

Understood, understood. Mu Bai waved his hand impatiently, I'll definitely practice tomorrow, I promise.

Just as the two of them were at a stalemate, a commotion suddenly came from afar.

A few black-clad guards were escorting a ragged man as they hurried through the corridor.

That man's face was covered in blood and dirt, yet he still struggled and shouted: All of you are dead... everyone in this estate... can't escape death...

Mu Bai's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively straightened his body.

Within the madman's shouts, some important information seemed to be hidden.

Yet on second thought, as a debauched scion, why should he bother meddling in these troublesome affairs?

Young Master? Zhao Meng looked doubtfully at Mu Bai, who had suddenly zoned out.

Huh? Oh... Mu Bai came back to his senses and resumed his lazy appearance. Instructor Zhao, do you see if something happened over there? Shall we go take a look?

Zhao Meng glanced back and shook his head: It's just catching some madman. The city has been rather unsettled lately, probably some people spouting nonsense. He turned back to Mu Bai, his tone resolute: Young Master, no matter what today, you must practice for half an hour.

Mu Bai secretly bewailed his misfortune, racking his brain to find another excuse when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a figure flashing past the corner of the corridor.

That person was acting stealthily, clutching something in their hand that reflected a dark red luster in the sunlight.

A lacquer wax seal? Mu Bai narrowed his eyes.

Based on his past life's experience writing novels, this was definitely not a good thing. But before he could ponder further, Zhao Meng had already pulled him toward the center of the field without any room for argument.

Young Master, today we shall practice the most basic Fierce Tiger Fist. This subordinate will personally spar with you.

Mu Bai looked at Zhao Meng's pot-sized fists and let out a helpless, bitter laugh.

It seemed he wouldn't be able to dodge it today...

Right at this juncture, the sound of urgent hooves suddenly came from the direction of the estate's main gates, followed by the neat kneeling salutes of the guards: Welcoming the Prince back to the estate!

Zhao Meng's movements froze, while Mu Bai felt as though he had received a grand amnesty, seizing the chance to break free: Father is back! I must go greet him! Without waiting for Zhao Meng to react, he darted away and vanished in a flash.

Zhao Meng gazed at Mu Bai's departing back and let out a helpless sigh.

This Young Master could neither write nor fight, and compared to his two younger brothers, the difference was as vast as clouds and mud.

The second young master Mu Yu had passed the imperial examination at a young age and now held an important post at court; the third young master Mu Tang was a martial arts genius who had reportedly touched the threshold of a martial master. Only this eldest young master...

Forget it, let's call it a day here. Zhao Meng waved his hand, signaling the youths to dismiss.

He raised his head to glance at the increasingly searing sun, wiped the sweat from his face, and strode toward the main hall of the estate.