Chapter 4: "Ode to Gallantry" Quietly Comes into the World
Creak—
The door opened, and Wang Fu stepped inside.
He approached the desk, ready to report, “Young master, everyone has been dismissed. We…”
His gaze unconsciously drifted to the surface of the desk.
At that moment, Yang Tian finished writing the last stroke.
Wang Fu’s pupils contracted sharply; his voice, struck by shock, abruptly fell silent.
Boom!
A thunderous sound erupted suddenly within the study.
The papers fluttered without wind.
The freshly inked characters seemed to transform into golden sprites, leaping from the page, swirling joyously through the air.
The entire study blazed with radiant gold, light bursting forth in all directions.
Click—
The shackles within Yang Tian’s body unlocked, the power of literary brilliance surged, and he stepped into the second realm of the Literary Path.
It was effortless, as simple as drinking water or eating food.
Wang Fu stood stunned, his eyes fixed solely upon those golden characters; the dormant, withered literary energy within him began to boil, renewed and invigorated.
That poem gradually distilled within his mind, forming a word of profound meaning.
The Great Way had acknowledged it; poetry birthed literary energy, its name spreading across the world.
The Literary Path bestowed its gift—this could become a combat technique, peerless and unmatched.
Yang Tian, noticing Wang Fu’s unusual state, merely thought him overwhelmed, unaware that an extraordinary transformation was taking place within Wang Fu.
The poem Yang Tian had written was the first page from the treasured Chinese tome within his mind.
It was the famous poem from the Tang dynasty, composed by the Immortal Poet Li Bai: “The Song of the Knight-Errant.”
The Zhao guest wore a loose turban, the Wu sword glimmered like frost and snow.
A silver saddle on a white horse, swift as a shooting star.
With every ten steps, a life taken; across a thousand miles, none left behind.
When the deed is done, he brushes his sleeve, hiding his name and himself.
He idly drinks with Prince Xinling, lays his sword across his knees.
Roasts meat for Zhu Hai, raises a cup to Hou Ying.
Three cups, and a promise made; the Five Mountains become light.
Eyes blurred, ears burning, his spirit rises like a rainbow.
He saves Zhao with a golden mace, shaking Handan to its core.
Two heroes of ages past, blazing glory in Liang’s city.
Even in death, their bones exude valor, never shamed among the great.
Who can write beneath your name, the mysterious treatise of old age?
At the same time, Yang Tian felt a subtle warning in his heart—not to casually recite works from his previous life.
To this world, it seemed a forbidden act.
Only by consuming fortune and drawing works from the treasured Chinese tome, then writing them with his own nurtured literary energy, could he remain unharmed.
“So be it. Otherwise, I’ve forgotten most of them anyway, hardly remember any full poems.” Yang Tian was not disappointed; the act of exchange felt fitting.
After a while, the golden sprites, tired from their play, all withdrew back into the page.
The paper was no longer ordinary.
It now bore a poem recognized by the Literary Path, transformed into a spiritual treasure, suitable for protection or attack.
This was Yang Tian’s trump card, prepared for his departure from the capital of Qin.
Yang Tian rolled up the paper and tucked it into his chest.
At that moment, Wang Fu returned to himself, ending his reverie.
Looking once more at the young master, his eyes brimmed with respect and admiration—not simply seeing Yang Tian as the son of his old lord.
He knew nothing of what transpired in the palace, only found it strange that the young master, who had never composed poetry, had today written a famous work acknowledged by the Literary Path. Without witnessing it himself, he would not have believed it.
“Fu Bo, are all arrangements complete?” Yang Tian asked.
“All is ready. The others have been sent away… The ten retainers left behind by the old master have sworn to follow you unto death,” Wang Fu answered in detail.
“Did you tell them of the peril on this journey? What of their families?” Yang Tian frowned.
Retainers were guards raised by the marquis household from childhood.
Wang Fu was much the same, thoroughly integrated into the household, generations serving and risking all for the marquis.
Whether married or not, they all had family.
“Young master, they will protect you alone. Their families will remain in the capital,” Wang Fu replied, somewhat reassured. Every generation of the marquis household was worthy of their loyalty.
Yang Tian decided swiftly, “No, I cannot rest easy leaving the elderly, women, and children in the capital. If they are willing to follow me, then escort their families ahead to Wild City. If I survive to reach Wild City, we will remain a family. If not, let them find a new life far from the capital.”
“Rest assured, young master, we will reach Wild City safely. I will go and give the orders at once.” Wang Fu’s gaze was resolute, his heart prepared for sacrifice, determined to safeguard Yang Tian’s life.
“Fu Bo, go with them,” Yang Tian instructed.
Wang Fu was over sixty and not a martial cultivator.
Yang Tian had not asked him to leave the Yang family, knowing full well Wang Fu would never depart.
“Yes, young master.” Wang Fu nodded without hesitation.
The study fell silent once more.
Yang Tian’s mind was calm, though he had little certainty.
Yet this move was necessary.
The capital of Qin was the greatest nest of intrigue, with endless schemes and plots.
The Marquis Champion’s title could not be preserved.
Even if the Yang family was spared blame, danger would always linger if Yang Tian remained in the capital.
Only by leaving could he act freely.
Thus, Yang Tian chose Wild City, reducing his presence to the minimum.
It was an open move, obvious to anyone with sense.
Yang Tian wished to show he was harmless, risking all to find a new beginning.
Yet, some would not relinquish their pursuit, preferring to eliminate every threat.
“Young master, we are ready.”
Soon Wang Fu returned with the report.
Yang Tian left the study and looked over everyone.
Their actions were swift; dozens of elders, women, and children—none faltered.
They understood the situation facing the Yang family, yet chose to face it together.
“Take care, everyone.”
“Young master, we’ll wait for you ahead.”
“Young master, six will remain to protect you; we’ll go on ahead.”
Wang Fu led them away.
The entire marquis estate was left with only Yang Tian and six guards.
Looking at the six guards, all in their twenties or thirties, faces resolute and determined, Yang Tian felt moved.
Having merged with the memories of his predecessor, he could be indifferent to most, but these people were as good as family.
“Yang He, summon the officials.”
Yang Tian spoke to a long-faced guard.
Yang He was the captain of the ten guards, a sixth-grade martial practitioner.
“Yes, young master.”
Soon, the officials came and recorded the estate’s belongings.
Except for cash, Yang Tian had not allowed Wang Fu to take anything else.
There was little of true value left in the estate; after issuing three months’ wages to the servants, little silver remained.
When he succeeded in leaving, he would need to find a way to earn money.
“These are the original spear techniques of the Yang family, and the battle strategies compiled by generations of Marquis Champions. Please deliver them to the sovereign.”
At last, Yang Tian produced the Yang family’s treasured items.
He felt no reluctance.
Only survival held meaning.
The officials looked at Yang Tian with complex expressions, saying nothing.
The wise knew well what was happening.
It was pitiable, lamentable!
For the youngest son of the Marquis Champion, Yang Tian, everyone now saw him in a new light.
“All right, this place is no longer mine. It’s time I left.”
Yang Tian took a deep breath, threw aside all emotion, and strode out of the marquis estate.
Yang He and the six guards followed closely, alert and vigilant.
The road ahead was perilous,
Yet there was no regret!