The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 58

A hundred years ago, there was only one way to enter that mysterious kingdom hidden deep in the mountains.

That is to find the legendary most experienced old horse—the "old horse" here does not refer to a horse, but is a respectful title, referring to those "mountain hermits" who have spent their lives dealing with the Ten Thousand Mountains, are familiar with every hidden animal trail, and know how to avoid poisonous miasma and strange beasts.

Even for someone as experienced as Old Ma, each time he traveled through time, it was a near-death experience.

This extreme isolation created an extremely pure, yet extremely distorted, civilization.

There, the martial arts sects that were prevalent in the Central Plains had almost no place to survive.

Because the power of the entire empire was highly concentrated in the imperial court and in the Hundred Schools of Thought, which were even older, larger, and more exclusive than the martial arts sects.

Confucianism, Taoism, Mohism, Legalism, and Yin-Yang School—these schools of thought, which had long since evolved into philosophical ideas in the Central Plains, developed into behemoths that controlled every aspect of the empire in that isolated country.

Confucianism controlled etiquette and education. Their disciples' every action and every word seemed to have been measured with a ruler, rigid and precise.

Taoism pursues the unity of heaven and man. They were the most powerful stargazers and physicians in the Qin Empire, and it is said that they could glimpse a trace of heavenly secrets from the trajectory of the stars.

The Mohists were a group of eccentric geniuses obsessed with mechanical arts and defensive siege equipment. It is said that they spent over a hundred years mobilizing hundreds of thousands of craftsmen to carve out a tunnel through the treacherous Shiwan Mountains, which was difficult for humans and animals to cross, allowing a large army to pass through. This enabled the Qin people to reappear before the world a hundred years ago.

"What they sought at Mantuo Manor was also quite extraordinary!"

Li Qingluo's fingertips gently tapped on his chest, mimicking the rhythm of his heartbeat. "Last year, they spent a mountain of gold just to buy a fist-sized black stone that fell from the sky."

Two years ago, they almost got into a fight with the Mongols over half a tattered bamboo slip.

Wang Meng understood.

For these Qin people, they could probably create even better weapons themselves.

Martial arts manuals, in their system that values ​​"technique," are probably just considered low-level skills.

What they are pursuing is something more fundamental and profound.

Wang Meng tapped his fingers lightly on the pages of the book, pondering to himself.

These Qin people are like a group of living fossils that have emerged from history, stubbornly upholding their traditions and pride.

Doing business with them would probably be even more difficult than negotiating with the Mongols.

His gaze swept over the Qin people and landed on the most vibrant and eye-catching corner of the courtyard.

There, a group of "nobles" from Luoyang, the capital of China, gathered.

These people, regardless of gender, were all dressed in gorgeous clothes, in fine silks and satins, with well-tailored fits.

With charming smiles, they toasted and chatted happily with the martial artists from other factions, seemingly the most at ease at this social gathering.

The young master dressed as a woman, the gray-robed nun whom I had met once before, and the woman who had been urinated on were all among them.

"Don't be fooled by their smiles."

Li Qingluo's fingers, like icy snakes, slowly slid down Wang Meng's neck to his collarbone, gently drawing circles. "These people are the most powerful henchmen under the Empress of the Tang Dynasty."

It is said that in the capital city of Luoyang, there is a mysterious government office called "Bad People" that is dedicated to eliminating dissidents and monitoring the world for the Empress.

Of these people, eight out of ten are ruthless scoundrels who would devour people without spitting out the bones.

Their purpose in coming here is secondary: to buy things. What they really want to do is to find out the strengths and weaknesses of all parties, to win over those they can win over, and to suppress those they must suppress.

What did you say to them today? Where is Mei in the plum grove? Are you in the plum grove, or not...?

Tomorrow morning, the documents will likely already be on the Empress Dowager's desk in Luoyang.

A thought suddenly flashed through Wang Meng's mind like lightning.

He recalled that not long ago, the "young master" outside had handed Li Qingluo a silk handkerchief of extraordinary quality.

What he remembers most vividly is the line of delicate yet powerful small characters written on the handkerchief: "The Emperor travels to the Purple Palace, the Phoenix sings in the Nine Heavens."

To Li Qiushui of Langhuan Jade Cave!

Wang Meng didn't ask many questions at the time because of Li Mochou's matter, and simply handed it over to Li Qingluo.

"Speaking of those Tang people!"

Wang Meng casually reached out and grasped Li Qingluo's soft hand that was playfully touching his chest, his fingertips gently tracing the smooth back of her hand, and asked, "A few days ago, there was a pretty boy outside who asked me to bring you a handkerchief."

I didn't think much about it at the time and just gave it to you.

But the words on it, thinking about it now, are quite interesting.

He read aloud, word by word: "The emperor tours the Purple Palace, the phoenix sings in the nine heavens."

The signature was addressed to Li Qiushui.

Who is Li Qiushui?

As soon as he finished speaking, Wang Meng immediately felt the voluptuous body pressed against him behind him suddenly stiffen.

The arms wrapped around his neck tightened instinctively, and the fingertips that had been drawing circles on his chest stopped moving.

Even the warm breath blowing against his ear seemed to hold back at that moment.

Li Qingluo fell into a long silence.

Inside the main hall, the atmosphere became somewhat subtle.

The hustle and bustle outside the beaded curtain continued, but the small world inside the curtain seemed to be shrouded in an invisible layer of thin ice.

Wang Meng did not urge him; he simply waited quietly, and stopped turning the pages of the book in his hands.

He could sense the struggle and hesitation in Li Qingluo's heart, a complex emotion mixed with fear, longing, pride and unease.

A long time passed, so long that Wang Meng thought she wouldn't answer.

Li Qingluo finally let out a barely audible sigh, a sigh that carried a sense of fatalistic helplessness.

She gently pressed her cheek against Wang Meng's broad back, as if drawing some kind of strength from it.

“That’s a ‘flower appreciation invitation’…”

Her voice was even lower than before, carrying a hint of etherealness.

Every three years, a grand flower-viewing festival is held in Luoyang, the capital city.

While it was ostensibly a flower viewing event, it was actually a stage for the Tang Dynasty Empress to showcase her power, military might, and wealth to the entire world.

The entire city of Luoyang will be plunged into a month-long carnival, a celebration even more grand than the Lunar New Year.

As she spoke, a hint of longing appeared in her voice, but it was quickly replaced by a more complex emotion.

"And that diva would always extend invitations a year in advance to people she considered 'friends'."

Such invitations come in various forms; sometimes they are a handwritten letter, sometimes a peculiar token, but the most common is a brocade handkerchief woven from cloud brocade.

This is the 'Flower Appreciation Post'.

Li Qingluo seemed to relax a little, and she slowly explained, "My mother is Li Qiushui. She had a relationship with that empress when she was young."

She is the true owner of the Langhuan Jade Cave.

However, ever since the day I got married more than ten years ago.

Then my mother disappeared without a trace, wandering off somewhere unknown, and was nowhere to be found in the whole world.

Therefore, the flower appreciation invitations would be delivered to Mantuo Villa on time every time.

This was both the empress's nostalgia and a kind of...reminder.

"remind?"

Wang Meng astutely grasped this word.

"Yes, just a reminder."

Li Qingluo gave a bitter smile. "My mother's kung fu is among the best in the world, but that Empress Wu is superior to my mother in both talent and strength. However, because of the relationship between the two, she has not made a move against Mantuo Manor for so many years."

But for every flower viewing party, invitations with brocade handkerchiefs were always sent out.

That was her reminder.

She was reminding us that she had never forgotten Li Qiushui.

It also reminds us that she still covets the Langhuan Jade Cave, just as she did back then…

There was a hint of fear in Li Qingluo's voice.

This is quite normal. After all, anyone would feel uneasy to be watched by such a terrifying figure as the Empress of the Tang Dynasty.

Besides these few clearly defined and self-serving major powers, many passersby from more distant and unknown corners are scattered throughout the courtyard, together forming a bizarre and colorful ukiyo-e painting.

A few blond, blue-eyed, and unusually tall foreigners stood out. They wore coarse robes lined with thick fur, had high, straight noses, and deep blue eyes filled with curiosity and undisguised greed about everything around them.

Li Qingluo said they were merchants from Persia, further west, or even from that legendary, icy land known as "Tsarist Russia."

They brought with them glassware that was extremely rare in the Central Plains, exotic spices that were more valuable than gold, and barrels of wine that were said to make the skin smooth after drinking it.

They also had an almost fanatical enthusiasm for the silk and porcelain of the Central Plains, especially those vivid martial arts manuals.

In another corner of the courtyard, a group of dark-skinned, muscular men were squatting.

They wore only simple, cool linen shorts, with various ferocious sea beasts or strange runes tattooed on their arms and chests.

Each person wore a huge gold ring on their ear, their eyes wary and fierce, like sea serpents basking in the sun on the rocks, ready to strike a fatal blow at any moment.

These people came from the distant Southeast Asia.

It was a land of freedom comprised of countless islands and lawless pirates, a true land beyond the reach of civilization.

What they brought were rare treasures retrieved from the deep sea, extremely poisonous herbs that could kill instantly, and—a sea chart whose authenticity was unknown, but which might lead to the legendary overseas immortal mountains… They had the best relationship with the Qin people.

The majority of the nautical charts they brought with them, which they had drawn themselves, were bought by the Qin people.

However, among all these various forces, the one that Wang Meng cared about the most was another group of people.

They also came from the Western Regions, but were completely different from those Persian merchants who reeked of money.

They were few in number, only about a dozen, yet they took it for granted that they occupied a pavilion with a great view in the inner courtyard, as if it were their rightful territory.

They were all dressed in spotless white linen robes, with a burning sacred fire totem meticulously embroidered in gold thread at the hem.

The leader was a middle-aged man with a handsome face and extraordinary demeanor, but his deep eyes always carried an unresolved worry.

The men and women behind him all had solemn expressions, their eyes burning with an almost fanatical flame—the light of faith, a heretical faith that could make believers willingly go through fire and water.

"Bright Peak, Ming Cult."

Wang Meng silently chewed on those four words, a cold, rusty hatred surging up from the deepest part of his heart.