Chapter 33: Deep in the Mountains, the Martial Arts World Gathers

Chapter 33: The Martial Arts World Gathers in the Deep Mountains

By mid-September, the rainy spell in Ningzhou had finally come to an end.

Ning Xishi could sense the gazes and probing from those around him, more or less. After all, he was putting on a show for Ming Hanche. The more these people stared, the more they spread word of the Beggar Gang Leader's bid for the position of Martial Arts Alliance Chief, and the more at ease the Ming family would feel.

Just as Ning Xishi had anticipated, at this very moment, inside the main hall of the Ming estate—

Ming Hanche, his hair streaked with white, sat holding a bowl of bird's nest and donkey-hide gelatin soup, his aged face nearly buried in the bowl as he spooned it up slowly, one spoonful at a time.

One of his sons, after hearing a servant's report, beamed with delight: "Father, you once said you could control the Beggar Gang Leader. I had my doubts before, but seeing it today, you truly have everything under your control."

The other advisors also clasped their hands in congratulations: "We were worried we couldn't keep those martial artists and common riffraff in check, but now with the Beggar Gang Leader stepping forward, everything becomes much easier."

"Father, what leverage do you hold over him exactly? Could you—could you tell your son..."

Before he could finish, a sharp clatter rang out as Ming Hanche slammed the white bone china bowl onto the table, the matching spoon rattling with a crisp clash.

The eldest Ming son quickly dropped to his knees, ignoring his own advanced age, and kowtowed in apology: "Father, your son did not mean to pry for information. I won't dare ask again."

Ming Hanche's eyes—seemingly clouded but actually sharp as mirrors—fixed intently on his eldest son, who was kneeling on the floor. Everyone in the room held their breath, not daring to make a sound, and only a deathly silence remained.

After a long moment, Ming Hanche waved a hand. "Rise."

The eldest Ming son remained trembling, hesitant to stand, when Ming Hanche let out a sigh. "You ask this—are you worried I've told your second brother but not you?"

Ming Hanche didn't bother looking at his two sons' suddenly sour expressions and continued: "I know you two brothers appear harmonious on the surface, but you're both secretly suspicious of each other. That's fine—it means you each have your own ideas and your own ways of managing people. They say imperial families lack true affection; we're not even close to that level yet. Cut out your petty scheming. The reason I haven't revealed the Beggar Gang Leader's identity is that I'm afraid your ruthless tactics might expose it, and then not only would we lose control of him, but we'd drag the whole Ming family down with us."

Hearing how grave Ming Hanche's words were, his two sons, both in their late fifties, said solemnly: "We shall heed your command, Father."

The advisors attending them exchanged glances, and a single look confirmed that neither of them knew about this matter either.

So within the entire Ming family, only the old patriarch and his ever-present gentleman knew the truth.

The realization that he had withheld such significant information from them weighed heavily on everyone, as if a suffocating pressure had descended, giving the distinct feeling of a struggle for the throne.

·

September 12th, the first day of the Martial Arts Alliance Chief selection, as set by the martial world.

When Ning Xishi first heard Guardian Ye explain the rules for the Alliance Chief selection, he was completely bewildered—"This chief selection actually takes more than twenty days?"

The timeline stretched from mid-September all the way into October?

Ning Xishi suddenly recalled the imperial examination rules, schedules, and arrangements that Dongshuang had gathered for him after he'd mentioned wanting to take the civil exams.

Those provincial and prefectural exams also took nine days.

Ning Xishi had thought at the time that staying in such a tiny examination cell for nine days would be impossible for him, only to have Dongshuang pour cold water on that idea.

"Young Master, the provincial exam is at least for those who've passed the county exam. You're not even a child scholar."

Ning Xishi: "..."

He'd wanted to complain about Dongshuang's condescending expression and attitude, but recalling that even the slightly more diligent Qi Huairui hadn't passed the child scholar exam, Ning Xishi accepted Dongshuang's attitude without protest.

Whatever—he was just a useless piece of trash.

After pondering for a while, Ning Xishi surveyed his surroundings.

He was currently leading about a hundred Beggar Gang members, standing at the innermost part of a treacherous peak—a spot he'd secured by arriving early. Those who came late were almost at the cliff's edge.

That was indeed pretty dangerous.

At this hour, it was still early, and the Ming family—who had initiated this Alliance Chief selection—had yet to arrive. Only various sect members were trickling in.

Looking down from the peak, Ning Xishi could only see jagged rocks and a wide, fast-flowing river.

In other words, the location the Ming family had chosen made it absolutely impossible for anyone to sneak up from below to ambush or assault. There was only one way in—the same one all martial artists had to take.

And the Ming family checked identity tokens so carefully that no imperial agent could possibly slip through.

Besides, with so many martial artists gathered here, even if one or two imperial spies managed to get in, they'd be crushed in an instant.

Ning Xishi couldn't help worrying—could Xie Jingxing's eight hundred iron cavalry actually get in?

If they couldn't, then he'd be stuck with becoming the Martial Arts Alliance Chief.

And then the entire martial world would know the Beggar Gang had become the Ming family's lackeys.

"I've heard of General Xie's reputation—he's carved through even the fierce Xiongnu with just a few hundred cavalry, seven times in and out. If he's given the Gang Leader his word, he must have a way in," Guardian Ye said, trying to console him.

But Ning Xishi wasn't comforted at all. It wasn't that he doubted the cavalry's might—it was that they were best at desert and grassland warfare. This was mountainous terrain, with almost no paths. How were Xie Jingxing and his men supposed to attack? Fly over?

Besides, when those cavalrymen had first entered the mountains, several had fallen ill from the unfamiliar environment and gotten bitten by leeches. It was only thanks to his medicinal powder that they hadn't ended up worse off. Now they were supposed to rely on these very men to eliminate the Ming family.

Ning Xishi felt it was a real long shot.

But things had come to this—he couldn't just give up without a fight.

"General Xie, if you truly can rescue me from this dire strait and keep my family from being dragged down by me, then I swear I'll behave myself in the general's residence from now on, study hard, and never bring shame to your household," Ning Xishi vowed silently.

As time ticked by, a deep, resonant drumbeat suddenly echoed from afar. Ning Xishi's gaze sharpened, and he immediately looked toward the source.

The drumbeat came in steady strokes, each one deeper than the last, startling bats and birds from the cliff walls.

There were few trees here, only jagged rocks, so the sound carried unimpeded, traveling ever farther.

So far that Xie Jingxing, lying in ambush on the other side of the mountain, caught the faint sound. His eyes narrowed, and before a scout could report, he guessed it was the drum heralding Ming Hanche's arrival.

He thought: the drumming was a good thing. His own operation—blasting a hole through the mountain and hiding all the cavalry inside—would make considerable noise. With the drums as cover, the martial artists on the other side would let their guard down.

If Ning Xishi were here, he'd be astonished by the power of black powder.

—That their dynasty was weak was common knowledge among the court officials. Military funding shrank year after year, leaving even less to support Xie Jingxing's troops.

The reason he could win battles against overwhelming odds wasn't just his brilliant tactics—it was also the powerful firearms backing him up.

Xie Jingxing never underestimated his opponents. On this southern campaign, he'd brought nearly ten carts of firearms.

These were things the court knew nothing about. If they'd learned of such formidable weapons, they'd have been insufferably smug and dreamed up more outlandish schemes—pure trouble for Xie Jingxing.

As for why even the military supervisor hadn't reported these crucial weapons to the emperor—that was purely Xie Jingxing's arrangement at court.

But that's a longer story.

Setting aside the past, Xie Jingxing had already ordered his soldiers to begin the first round of blasting into the mountain.

These were all elite troops who had long followed General Xie, and they obeyed his every command without hesitation.

Over there, Ming Hanche arrived in grand style, seated in a thirty-two-bearer palanquin, ornate and dazzling, with two doors on every side. Ning Xishi glanced at it and figured it could easily hold dozens of people.

He'd rarely seen such a massive palanquin.

It felt about the size of a small bus from his past life.

"The Ming family head is here!"

"Look!"

"Good heavens, such a huge palanquin—this is straight-up extravagant."

"Those aristocratic clans really have it good—so loaded. If we had money, we'd try riding in a palanquin that big too."

"What are you thinking? The window frames on that palanquin are wrapped in real gold—you couldn't sell yourself for half that much."

"I say forget picking a Martial Arts Alliance Leader and just pledge to Old Master Ming."

"Exactly, exactly. Old Master Ming is so rich, he's got to have inside info on the court, and he's also a stand-up guy. He'll definitely take us to the next level."

At that, Ning Xishi glanced over and spotted a middle-aged man nearing forty.

Sensing Ning Xishi's gaze, the man turned, shot him a look, and sneered contemptuously.

After that, the man mouthed something like: "Kid, go home and drink your milk. Don't fight us old-timers for the Martial Arts Alliance Leader."

Ning had rarely been disrespected like this growing up. Hearing that, he picked up a rock, tossed it lightly in the air, and then, to the man's shock, raised his hand and hurled it.

Seeing this, the man's sneer deepened: "Throwing rocks at your grandpa—"

He cut off mid-sentence. The stone, small enough to catch with one hand, packed a massive punch when he grabbed it, blasting him backward.

He tumbled nearly three meters before hitting the ground, then clutched his arm, howling, drenched in sweat.

The Ming family's people, who'd been lurking in the shadows all along, quickly appeared, shoved a rag in his mouth, and hauled him off.

They handled it quick and clean. Many had been distracted by Ming Hanche's palanquin, and by the time they heard the yell, he was already gone.

They even figured they'd imagined it.

Only a buddy from the man's sect went to the Mings to demand his release, but from what Ning Xishi saw, that friend never came back either.

A chill went down Ning Xishi's spine. With moves like that, the Mings were definitely plotting a rebellion.

But rebellion meant raising a banner, and at minimum, they'd need to back a prince, right? Which side were the Mings leaning toward?

==========Author's Note:==========

Single update.

About two more chapters and this arc wraps up, then it's back to the capital for the main imperial exams storyline.

Good night.