Grandmaster of Martial Arts

Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice, casting dappled shadows across the zitan wood bed.

Mu Bai slowly came to, feeling utterly refreshed. Even after a long talk with his father the previous night, his mood remained completely unmarred.

This sleep had been especially sound.

He had slept straight until the sun hung high, and the soft murmur of maidservants' voices drifted in from outside. He stretched lazily and yawned.

"The Young Master is awake!" a crisp voice rang out. Two maidservants in emerald-green ruqun skirts filed in.

The lead one, Ling Xiu, had curved, smiling eyes and carried washing utensils in her hands, while the maid behind her bore a basin of steaming hot water.

Under the maidservants' orderly service, Mu Bai finished his washing.

After washing up, he came to the dining table. Looking at the several dishes laid out before him, he couldn't help but furrow his brow.

"Why is it these again? The same few things over and over. Ancient lunches really are dreadfully monotonous."

Mu Bai muttered under his breath as he picked up his chopsticks.

On the table were nothing more than steamed sea bass, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and a plate of spiced beef. Though the ingredients were fresh and the cooking meticulous, after eating the same fare for years on end, even mountain delicacies and sea treasures grew tiresome.

Ling Xiu covered her mouth with a smile. "Young Master, these were all carefully prepared by the mansion's chefs. Ordinary families couldn't even get such food."

Mu Bai shook his head helplessly and continued eating, but his mind wandered to the rich variety of foods from his past life, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

After finishing lunch, Mu Bai came to the courtyard. The courtyard was shaded by lush greenery; an ancient locust tree spread its canopy like an umbrella, and beneath it sat a rocking chair.

He lounged comfortably into the chair, which swayed gently with his movements.

A breeze brushed past, carrying the fragrance of flowers, refreshing his heart and mind.

Remembering the crisis his father had spoken of the night before, a faint smile curled at the corner of Mu Bai's lips.

In the Great Yan Kingdom, martial arts reigned supreme.

Mu Bai had long since reached the peak of the Houtian martial artist realm, becoming what legends called a Grandmaster of Martial Arts.

This was a realm countless martial artists dreamed of—across the entire Great Yan Kingdom, those who could reach this level could be counted on one hand.

Years ago, when Mu Bai was still a child, he had encountered a fortune-telling Daoist priest on the street.

That priest, with an immortal bearing, had a flicker of surprise in his eyes upon seeing Mu Bai and declared him a once-in-ten-thousand-years martial prodigy.

The priest generously gifted him a martial art technique called the Heavenly Origin Technique.

Perhaps it was the golden finger of his transmigration at work, but Mu Bai's comprehension was extraordinary, and cultivating the Heavenly Origin Technique came as naturally as a fish to water.

At fifteen, he successfully broke through to the Grandmaster of Martial Arts realm, becoming the youngest Grandmaster in the Great Yan Kingdom!

For the next three years, Mu Bai trained day and night, striving to break through to the Xiantian realm, but he never made any progress.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not find the opportunity to break through. It was as if an invisible barrier separated him from the Xiantian realm.

As time passed, he gradually gave up on cultivation and instead began to enjoy a leisurely life.

Though he could not break through to Xiantian, with his strength as a Grandmaster of Martial Arts, he had few rivals in the Great Yan Kingdom.

Only four Grandmasters in the entire kingdom could match him, and these four were either reclusive supreme experts hidden in the mountains or powerful sect leaders of high standing.

They were not the kind of people the emperor could easily summon from seclusion.

Thus, even if the emperor wanted to move against the Carefree Prince's family, he would have to weigh whether he had the strength to do so.

"Even if the emperor has some scheme, with my martial arts, I can protect my family," Mu Bai thought to himself as he lay on the rocking chair, eyes closed, resting his mind.

He was full of confidence in his own strength, believing his father's so-called worries were nothing more than groundless fears.

The afternoon sun remained warm and gentle, filtering through the dense branches and leaves to cast patches of light and shadow on the rocking chair.

Mu Bai lay on the rocking chair in the courtyard, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest, his brow unconsciously furrowing.

The crisis his father spoke of stirred little turmoil in his heart. What truly troubled him was his failure to break through to Xiantian over these three years.

Three years ago, when Mu Bai had smoothly stepped into the Grandmaster of Martial Arts realm, he had been full of anticipation for continued ascent. But he never expected the path ahead to be blocked by an invisible barrier.

To break through this obstacle, he had tried every method.

In those days, whenever he heard of a Heavenly Material or Earthly Treasure appearing in the world, he would rush there without delay.

He once heard that in the far northern lands grew a miraculous herb called the "Ice Soul Snow Lotus," said to help one break through cultivation bottlenecks when consumed.

Mu Bai, undeterred by the great distance, resolutely set out on a journey north.

Along the way, he encountered blizzards and fierce beasts of the ice plains, nearly losing his life. Yet even so, when he finally found the Ice Soul Snow Lotus and swallowed it with eager anticipation, his body only felt a brief warmth, and then nothing more.

Back at the prince's mansion, Mu Bai did not lose heart. He buried himself in the study, poring over various martial arts manuals, trying to find clues to the breakthrough from the experiences of those who came before.

The mansion's study was richly stocked—from ancient fragmented scrolls to contemporary martial artists' written insights, he studied them all.

In those days, he often forgot to eat and sleep, immersing himself in dense text, leaving no detail unchecked.

But no matter how hard he tried, his hopes were dashed time and again.

He repeatedly scrutinized every word and phrase of the Heavenly Origin Technique, attempting to uncover the secrets hidden within, but each time ended in disappointment.

As time went on, Mu Bai's state of mind also began to shift quietly.

At first, he was filled with impatience and unwillingness. After every failed attempt, he would frantically practice his sword in the courtyard, trying to vent the frustration in his heart.

But soon he realized this state was wrong—he was too impatient, to the point that even his martial arts mindset had been affected.

And so, gradually, he learned to relax, to let everything follow his heart.

Xiaoyao City no longer had a diligent martial artist training hard; instead, it gained a notorious playboy known far and wide as the Young Master of the Carefree Prince.

Yet on countless nights, he sat alone in the courtyard, gazing up at the starry sky, still pondering the true essence of martial arts.

However, that threshold of Xiantian stood before him like an insurmountable chasm, impossible to cross.

No matter how hard he tried, it seemed he could never break through this barrier.

Thinking of this, Mu Bai couldn't help but let out a helpless bitter laugh, a wave of frustration surging in his heart.

He casually picked up another crystal-clear grape and put it into his mouth, intending to ease his mood, but before he could savor the sweet-and-sour taste—

Suddenly, a faint ripple caught his attention.

Mu Bai's peripheral vision swept slightly, his gaze landing on the direction from which the ripple came—it was precisely the location of his father's courtyard.

His expression darkened slightly, and he thought to himself, "Could something have happened to Father?"

But he didn't show it. Instead, he pretended nothing was wrong, slowly rising to his feet.

He stretched, loosened his joints, and then walked nonchalantly toward his father's courtyard, as if he had noticed nothing at all.