Chapter 30: The Master’s Confidence

By the time they returned from the palace, night had already fallen. At least, unlike their earlier journey, they weren’t flying straight through the sky this time.

Ji Huo reeked of alcohol—the evening banquet had seen many ministers come to toast him. That was manageable, for officials must maintain their dignity and mostly offered polite congratulations. The younger generation, however, were a different story. They were all peers, and while Ji Huo’s prowess in combat was well-known, surely his drinking ability couldn’t be as formidable? So a swarm of them came to challenge him to drinking contests.

Naturally, Ji Huo drank quite a lot.

A blast of cold wind cleared his mind. He circulated his inner strength, dispelling the drunken haze from his body.

“How do you feel?” His father asked, smiling with ease. At home, Ji Junhong kept a strict watch on his drinking, but at tonight’s banquet, he’d taken the opportunity to indulge himself. He was in an excellent mood.

“It’s nothing special. I don’t care much for this sort of atmosphere,” Ji Huo replied, shaking his head. “I can see right through those drinking with me—some act out of malice, others out of flattery. Very few simply want to drink for the sake of it.”

Ji Xiaoxiong said nothing.

Ji Huo continued, “Why can’t people just drink for the sake of drinking? Drink when you’re happy, don’t when you’re not. If you don’t like someone, just fight them. If you lose, get your friends to back you up. Wouldn’t that be much simpler?”

He remembered drinking with clients in his previous life—the idiotic bosses always insisted their subordinates toast others. He recalled how some of his female colleagues, unable to hold their liquor, still forced themselves to drink, only to rush to the restroom to vomit before returning to drink again.

Such was the wretched culture of the drinking table, and many terrible companies thrived on it. He’d heard, though, that young people these days were starting to reform the workplace, making such customs less common.

A pity that when Ji Huo arrived in this world, such reforms had only just begun. He wondered what an interesting scene that must have been.

“It seems you truly aren’t suited for officialdom,” Ji Xiaoxiong nodded.

Ji Huo glanced over, smiling. “Father, you’re not suited for it either. Earlier, when people came to toast you, if you were in a good mood you’d respond, and if not, you couldn’t be bothered.”

Ji Xiaoxiong snorted. “The twists and turns of the court can’t bind me. None of them can best me in a fight, so why should I care? If it weren’t for giving His Majesty some face, I’d have stopped attending court ages ago.”

A true master’s confidence, indeed.

Ji Xiaoxiong’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “If you reach my level of strength, you can do whatever you please. Attend court if you wish, skip it if you don’t—no one can restrain you. The throne’s succession or the court’s intrigues will no longer concern you. Remain neutral, loyal to the royal house, loyal to Great Zhou, and that’s enough.”

This was the first time his father had spoken to him about such matters. Ji Huo blinked, suddenly realizing his father might not be as simple as he seemed.

He asked, “Father, between the Crown Prince and the Fourth Prince, whom do you support?”

Fortunately, they were strolling along a quiet street, with few around to overhear. Otherwise, such words could easily have led to trouble.

“I support the Emperor. Whoever sits upon that throne, I support them,” Ji Xiaoxiong replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ji Huo pressed, “But the Fourth Prince brought me back from Sichuan, and now has the support of many military officials. You’re not concerned?”

“If he managed to bring you back, that’s his skill. Why should I intervene?”

Ji Huo considered, then asked, “What if I’d died on the way back?”

Ji Xiaoxiong’s tone was calm, as though he had long pondered this. He spoke slowly: “When I heard the news, Junhong had already sent people to fetch you. I only learned of the assassination attempt upon your return. No matter who was behind it, whether those sent to fetch you meant you harm or not, let me be clear: if something had happened to you, they would all have died.”

Ji Huo narrowed his eyes. “But those are the princes and the crown prince—you dare to lay a hand on them?”

Ji Xiaoxiong replied with arrogant certainty, “So what? Who could stop me? Even if I killed them both, His Majesty would only try to persuade me otherwise—he couldn’t defeat me anyway.”

“Didn’t you just say you were loyal to the Emperor?” Ji Huo was dumbfounded. He’d always thought his father a stalwart, loyal official—perhaps even a bit stodgy. But hearing this, he couldn’t help but think this didn’t sound like the words of a good man.

“I am loyal to the Emperor. But neither of them is Emperor yet. Right now, the Emperor is His Majesty.” Ji Xiaoxiong’s reasoning was flawless.

“Fair enough.”

Ji Xiaoxiong patted his son’s head. He was half a head taller than Ji Huo, and the gesture resembled a great bear ruffling its cub’s hair.

“As a martial artist, your thoughts must be clear, your mind unclouded, ever forward—only then can you travel farther on the martial path.”

He glanced at Ji Huo and added, “If you wish to reach the next stage, you must understand your own path. Only with clarity of purpose and resolve can you truly achieve the realm where man and nature are one—the level of a grandmaster.”

Clarity of thought, unity with heaven and man—so this was the secret to the grandmaster’s realm. Ji Huo’s heart stirred, and he nodded.

“If not for my attachment to the Flying Bear Army, my brothers who have followed me for years, and the years I’ve spent with His Majesty—if Great Zhou didn’t need me to hold the fort—I would have thrown in the towel ages ago. Damn it, having to watch these idiots bicker every day is enough to drive anyone mad!”

As he spoke, Ji Xiaoxiong cursed outright, clearly long since fed up with official life.

Ji Huo was at a loss for words. He hadn’t realized his father had this side to him.

He stroked his chin, suddenly thinking that finding his father a wife was indeed a matter of some urgency. Someone needed to keep him in check—if he kept getting so worked up every day, what if he fell ill from anger?

“By the way, has Junhong met you before?” his father suddenly asked.

“Eh? Oh!” Ji Huo betrayed his elder brother without hesitation. “About two years ago, I think. He even met Little Red Candy, came with Master Wen.”

His father was silent for a couple of seconds, then swore, “That little rascal! Even kept it from me!”

How could he not? If you’d come looking for me two years ago, all my secrets would’ve been exposed. What was I doing two years ago anyway? Oh, right—selling arms…

Ji Huo grew curious. “What does big brother usually do?”

In the past two days, Ji Huo had more or less realized that neither the Flying Bear Army nor the Duke’s household had much of an intelligence network. Yet his big brother had managed to find him; such resourcefulness might even rival his own Tiangang group. He wondered how his brother had developed such skills.

After a pause, Ji Xiaoxiong replied, “He’s in business, attends poetry gatherings, helps disaster victims, and mingles quite a bit with the Confucian scholars. Beyond that, I don’t really know.”

Ji Huo murmured an acknowledgment, deep in thought.

When they reached the Duke’s estate, Ji Xiaoxiong circulated his inner strength to dispel the scent of alcohol, then cupped a hand over his mouth and breathed into it to check for any lingering smell. Only when he was certain there was none did he sneak inside.

Ji Huo was speechless.

“What are you looking at? I just don’t want Junhong to worry—he’s already burdened enough,” Ji Xiaoxiong said offhandedly. “Besides, why would a grandmaster like me be afraid of a little wine?”

Whatever you say, Father, Ji Huo thought, silently nodding.