The night rain had ceased, and the east was turning white.
A cool, early summer breeze saturated the Divine Capital, sweeping past Night Guard Street.
The Night Guard Office was enclosed by red walls, atop which curved, pale black eaves tilted upwards.
BANG... BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG...
Inside the red walls, the watchman’s cry—one slow beat, five fast—rang out.
Early risers heard the unique sixth-watch call from Night Guard Street, glanced at it from afar, and hurried on their way.
FWOOSH...
A gray sparrow took flight in a flurry of wings, circling past the bright blue brackets of the Night Guard Hall. It skimmed by the vermilion pillars outside the Divine Capital Disciplinary Hall, extended its straw-like legs, and landed on the green tiles of the Street Patrol Room’s dormitory. It shook itself, then tucked its sharp beak under its wing to preen its feathers.
"Get up! Wash up so we can go on patrol..." a hoarse voice sounded from Dormitory A-9, beneath the green tiles.
The dormitory fell silent.
"I’m buying lamb soup!" The hoarse voice became a little clearer.
"Hey, why didn’t you say so earlier..."
The dormitory burst into life.
"Li Qingxian, how are you? Think you can go on patrol today?" Zheng Hui’s concerned voice asked.
The clamor stopped.
The thick, paper-pasted windows blocked most of the morning light, leaving the room dim.
Five beds were lined up side by side, but there were only four people in the room.
Three of them sat up, looking toward the young man in the innermost bed.
"I can!" the young man yawned, replying lazily as he slowly got up.
"Haha, good. We’ll go wash up first. We’ll all have lamb soup together later."
The three dressed and left. Li Qingxian, wearing a white undershirt, shuffled in his shoes over to the bronze mirror.
Li Qingxian stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He was fifteen or sixteen years old. Just recovering from a serious illness, his face was pale, making him look a little handsomer than usual.
His eyes, beneath fine, dark, heroic brows, seemed shrouded in shadow, dull and listless.
His straight nose was beaded with the sweat of weakness, and beneath a soft, faint mustache, his thin lips were completely colorless.
On his lower left jaw, a faint, inch-long scar was barely visible in the dim room.
Li Qingxian lowered his head and looked at his hands.
His palms had raised, yellowish calluses and a mess of lines, but when he turned them over, the backs of his hands were fair, with blue veins clearly visible.
"Here, wash your face. I’m going to take a quick rinse outside." Captain Zheng Hui placed a washbasin on its stand, clapped Li Qingxian on the shoulder, and left in a flurry.
After washing his face, Li Qingxian dressed, buckled on his long saber, and walked back to the bronze mirror.
His frame was thin and his hair was a mess; he still looked like someone recovering from a serious illness.
He removed his bamboo hairpin, picked up a wooden comb, and clumsily tidied his hair—twisting it, inserting the pin, coiling it, and securing it in place. Then, he smoothed his clothes. In an instant, he looked like a different person.
In the bronze mirror, his pale face was rather handsome, his brows still held a trace of youthful innocence, and his eyes glinted with a sharp light.
He wore a round-collared, narrow-sleeved top of deep cyan, with a short, deep cyan skirt-like garment covering black trousers.
The cuffs and the hem of the lower garment were embroidered with inch-wide trim of red, blue, and green brocade.
He wore white socks and black boots, and at his waist hung a long, narrow Yanling Saber.
On the black scabbard near the hilt, the character for "Night" was engraved, its red lacquer mostly chipped away.
A red cord dangled from his black cloth belt, a pure white Deer and Crane Pattern Jade Pendant swaying gently at its end.
Li Qingxian rested his left hand on the hilt of his long saber, straightened his back, and lifted his chin, looking exceptionally valiant.
A young man in cyan robes, a saber-wielding warrior.
Looking at himself in the mirror, a complex expression appeared on Li Qingxian’s face.
Li Qingxian was not from this world.
He had originally lived in a world of skyscrapers, a world where others reveled in debauchery.
In that world, Li Qingxian, like most people, had lived an ordinary life.
School, exams, and then... single.
Binge-watching shows, watching movies, playing games, and then... single.
After becoming an adult, he left his parents, moved to a big city to join a social media company, and then... continued to be single.
Then he died of illness.
That famous doctor said it was just a minor illness and not to worry too much about it, but he didn’t make it.
Before he died, Li Qingxian had been full of regret.
Perhaps fate decreed he shouldn’t have died, because when he opened his eyes, he had arrived in this world, occupying someone else’s body.
A person who had also been ill, also named Li Qingxian.
Li Qingxian had lain in the room for three days, slowly acquiring the new body’s memories—some clear, some blurry.
The fantastical nature of this world was beyond imagination.
This was the Qii Country. Its Grand Ancestor and founder had originally been the Martial Arts Alliance Hierarch, a man who dominated the world with his power alone.
In Qii Country, a Civil Servant could sever a river with a single breath of his Righteous Sword, a Military Officer could destroy a city with one punch, and even a Eunuch could shatter a mountain with a palm strike. There were also powers like Daoists, Demon Fiends, Puppeteers, and other vile forces.
’I don’t want to die again...’
’In a world like this, I can’t be careless.’
’First, I’ll find a chance to get out and look around, observe the situation. Then I’ll find a safe place and figure out how to cultivate and increase my strength.’
As he thought of this, a massive object resembling a celestial sphere appeared in his mind.
A gray-silver base, with intertwining bronze rings.
Li Qingxian’s maternal grandfather had come from a small sect of Fate Masters called the Fate Measuring Sect, and had left Li Qingxian a method of cultivation.
Li Qingxian had been fortunate enough to begin as a Destiny Cultivator, first obtaining the mysterious Celestial Destiny Instrument and then mastering the Qi Observation Skill. But just a few days later, he had kicked the bucket.
Just as Li Qingxian was thinking, footsteps approached.
"Feeling better?" Squad Commander Zheng Hui stood in the doorway.
"Much better. I was just about to head out," Li Qingxian said.
"Good!" A warm smile blossomed on Zheng Hui’s dark face, his eyes filled with joy.
Li Qingxian looked at his captain. He was a robust man in his forties, a good two heads taller than him, with shoulders so broad he looked like a wall blocking the doorway. His skin was dark, and his left ear was missing.
Zheng Hui sighed, walked over, and handed him a coarse porcelain cup. "Have some water first. I ran into Doctor Sunx on the way. He said this illness stems from the root cause of your last one."
Six months ago, after his father Li Gangfeng died, Li Qingxian had fallen gravely ill.
"I understand," Li Qingxian said, taking the cup and sipping slowly with his head down.
"Mr. Gangfeng... Ai. If he hadn’t been pushed to the brink, who would crash into a court pillar? This is the third Crown Prince to be deposed during the Taining Year. Even during the chaos of the previous Tiankang Year, only one Crown Prince was captured by the Demon Race."
Li Qingxian continued to drink his water as some memories grew clearer.
Six months ago, the Crown Prince, in his capacity as Guard Commander, was in charge of the Night Guard. He was accused of plotting treason and debauching the Harem.
Although the evidence was insufficient, the court officials were incensed and demanded severe punishment.
As an Inspector Imperial Censor, Li Gangfeng insisted that evidence come first. But Emperor Taining, without conclusive proof, issued an edict to place the Crown Prince under house arrest.
Li Gangfeng, perhaps filled with righteous indignation, retracted his Literary Qi and, with his mortal body, slammed into the Dragon-Embracing Red Court Pillar, dying on the spot.
"And look what good it did. Mr. Gangfeng is gone, and the Crown Prince coughed up blood from sheer anger and followed him to the grave. Half a year has passed. Has the Imperial Court gotten any better? No, only the Night Guard has suffered. The way I see it, the Emperor has been deceived by treacherous officials." Zheng Hui sat down silently.
"Is our Night Guard really that much worse off than before?" Li Qingxian asked.
Zheng Hui’s eyes lit up. He straightened up and said, "Do you know what people used to call us Night Guard? The junior Cabinet! We oversaw all officials, governed the Martial Arts Sects, and handled Demons and Ghosts. We were so prestigious! But now... Ai, the main gate of the Night Guard hasn’t been opened in over half a year. The glorious sight of the Ti Qi riding out with red silk banners, a spectacle that once showed off our might, hasn’t been seen in just as long. The Emperor is wise, but the treacherous officials fear us Night Guard. What can be done?"
"Is it true they’re going to disband the Night Guard?"
"Speaking of which, we actually have Lord Gangfeng to thank. Everyone in the Night Guard, from top to bottom, remembers his good deed. Logically, as soon as the Crown Prince died, those treacherous officials should have forced the Emperor to disband the Night Guard. But Lord Gangfeng’s suicidal protest made the Civil Servants, especially the Imperial Censors, reconsider in Lord Li’s memory. They’ve let the matter drop for now, which is the only reason the Night Guard is still barely hanging on. Even so, our people are constantly being transferred away. There were five of us in this room originally. Xiaozhao left, and we’ll be lucky if three of us remain."
Li Qingxian sighed along with him.
Zheng Hui slapped his forehead. "I’m being foolish again. I meant to cheer you up, but I ended up just complaining myself."
"We’re all family here. A little complaining is perfectly normal," Li Qingxian said with a gentle smile.
"Isn’t that the truth! By the way, how are things at home? Are you on good terms with your aunt and uncle?"
"My aunt’s family lived next door to mine for over a decade. We’ve always been very close," Li Qingxian said.
"Good. It’s good you have family to look after you. If you ever need help with anything at home, just give me a shout. By the way, are you still studying Fate Skill?" Zheng Hui gave him a teasing smile.
"I’m not discussing this with you guys. Every time I say I want to be a Fate Master, you all make fun of me," Li Qingxian said with a look of resignation.
"Haha, then we won’t talk about it. Don’t push yourself. If you’re not up to it, just rest for a few more days. Wait until you’re fully recovered before you come on patrol with me." Zheng Hui stood up as he spoke.
Li Qingxian cocked an eyebrow. "Captain Zheng, who are you looking down on? Am I, Li Qingxian, the kind of person to just lie around?"
Zheng Hui cursed with a laugh, "You little rascal, just as cheeky as when we first met. I still remember how you looked back then, putting on such a convincing scholar act. You had us all fooled."
"I really am a scholar," Li Qingxian said with a completely serious face.
"Pah!" Zheng Hui scoffed. "What secrets can be kept in the Night Guard? I looked into it later and found out you little punk ran wild on the streets for years. It wasn’t until Lord Li returned to the capital that you obediently entered an academy. And what was the result? Your essays on the classics were a complete mess. In the end, Lord Li got so mad he had no choice but to have you switch to being a Martial Cultivator. They tested your aptitude, and the major sects and clans wouldn’t take you. You trained at a small martial arts hall for half a year with no progress. Then Lord Li sent you to cultivate the Dao, but your aptitude didn’t meet the minimum requirements for any sect. Your father is a pillar of orthodox Confucianism; he couldn’t possibly send you to cultivate as an Evil Puppet Demon, and he didn’t like you cultivating Fate Skill. In the end, he had no other choice but to pull some strings and get you into the Night Guard. And you’re still pretending to be a scholar with me? Come on, write a few words for me to see. Your chicken-scratch is worse than mine."
Li Qingxian chuckled, not blushing in the slightest. "Street rules: bragging isn’t illegal, but it gives you courage."
"Come on, Li the Bold, let’s go take a walk in the courtyard," Zheng Hui said with a laugh.
Li Qingxian nodded, stepped over the threshold, and walked into the courtyard.
The morning sun shone down, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the air in the tree-lined courtyard was fresh.
An expanse of hard-packed, yellowish earth covered the courtyard. There were ten dormitories in total on the north and south sides, with the main gate to the east.
On the west side, stone locks, stone barbells, long staffs, and other equipment were scattered about. Six or seven men were shouting and grunting as they trained their bodies.
By the white stone-lined well, with a SPLASH, a man lifted a wooden bucket, tipped it over, and poured cool water over his head. With a casual flick, he tossed the bucket back into the well, where it landed with a hollow sound.
Nearby, four or five men were gathered, chatting and laughing as they dried themselves with towels.
Others, already fully dressed, stood chatting by the courtyard gate.
Li Qingxian turned his head and glanced at Squad Commander Zheng Hui.
His uniform was completely different from his own.
His own clothes only had an inch-wide brocade trim on the edges, while Zheng Hui’s official uniform was fully brocaded with a green, interlocking branch pattern, making it especially striking among the sea of deep cyan robes.
On the square patch on his chest was embroidered the pattern of a white horse treading on a river.
The patch of a Junior Tenth-Grade Military Officer.
Zheng Hui rested his right hand on the leather belt at his waist. "Qingxian, if you go on patrol today, you stick close to me. No matter what happens, even if the sky falls, you are not to make a move. Not like last time, you hear me?"
Li Qingxian reached up and touched the faint, pale scar on his lower left jaw. He smiled. "Alright, I’ll listen to Captain Zheng this time."
"Last time, Li Qingxian was a real tiger," said the tall, fair, and chubby Yur Ping, tossing him an orange. Wiping his mouth, he added, "To help you recover, I sacrificed my handsome face and begged this off of Chef Wang. There were originally two, but a cat snatched one on the way."
"Thanks, brother." Li Qingxian caught it with a smile. In the morning light, the orange was bright and vibrant.