Chapter 8: Meeting Ji Xiaoxiong

After several days of hard travel, by the time Mr. Wen had visibly lost weight, the group finally caught sight of the majestic city walls of the capital. The scars left by blades, swords, and axes upon the stone, along with the marks of time’s erosion, proclaimed the ancientness of this city.

“The capital you see now, Second Young Master, has actually been rebuilt and expanded many times. It is no longer what it once was,” explained Mr. Wen.

“Then why does it still bear so many traces of war?” Ji Huo asked curiously.

“They added those on purpose to make it look ancient, to give it a sense of history. They even smoked the stones to darken them,” Mr. Wen replied offhandedly.

Is this the twisted sense of humor of the royal family? Ji Huo couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the thought.

With so many people entering the city, they were naturally subject to inspection. Yet when the city guards saw the banner of the Flying Bear Legion, they did not obstruct them. Instead, they saluted, their eyes shining with respect as they watched the group pass.

It seemed the Flying Bear Army commanded immense prestige in the capital… Ji Huo mused, observing the crowds of onlookers thronging the streets.

His gaze fell upon a familiar youth—dark-skinned and skinny—hawking candied hawthorns. As their eyes met, the youth gave a subtle nod before vanishing into the crowd.

Ji Huo smiled faintly. Looking at the teeming capital, a flicker of excitement flashed in his eyes.

So this is the capital. After lying low in western Sichuan for so many years, I have finally set foot upon the grand stage of the Central Plains.

Let me see what the true experts of the Central Plains are really like.

Before long, they arrived at an imposing mansion bearing the inscription: “Duke Guardian of the Nation’s Residence.”

A host of servants and maids waited outside, at the forefront a graceful and elegant young man dressed in white, with sword-like brows, bright eyes, flowing hair, and an antique folding fan in hand.

The young man’s face was pallid, almost sickly, and though his features were haggard, his handsome appearance could not be concealed.

He’s almost as good-looking as I am… Ji Huo thought, recognizing the youth from two years prior.

“Second Brother, you’re here,” Ji Junhong greeted with a gentle smile, coughing twice as he spoke, giving the impression of someone just recovering from illness.

Ji Huo cupped his hands in greeting. Though two years had passed, there was no sense of estrangement between them. The memory of drinking and laughing together was still vivid. Now that he knew this young man was his elder brother, Ji Huo felt no resistance at all.

Two years ago, his cultivation was still lacking; but now, strengthened by the system, Ji Huo had no idea how powerful he had truly become—he had even touched upon the mysterious and profound realms.

He could feel it, that intimate bond of blood.

So I really am the son that Ji Xiaoxiong lost years ago… he sighed inwardly. If he’d known it would turn out like this, he wouldn’t have tried so hard.

“Big Brother, am I interrupting something by arriving now?” Ji Huo asked with a smile.

At the term “Big Brother,” Ji Junhong’s gentle eyes brightened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No, you’ve come at just the right time.”

With their charge delivered, Lü Shui took his men back to the barracks, winking at Ji Huo as he left, inviting him to visit the Flying Bear Army whenever he had time—it was clear he wanted to recruit Ji Huo into their ranks as soon as possible.

Mr. Wen, utterly exhausted, quickly found an excuse to retire and rest.

Leading Ji Huo deeper into the mansion, Ji Junhong spoke continuously, “I’ve arranged your lodgings in a courtyard to the north, not far from my own. The rooms are fully furnished, and since you travel light, you can settle in right away.”

“The situation here in the capital is a bit complicated. I’ll explain everything later. Father is waiting for you in his study. You should see him first; he’s probably growing impatient.”

Once inside and alone, Ji Junhong’s coughing ceased, his posture straightening.

Ji Huo paused, realizing he was about to meet the legendary master—the famed Flying Bear General, the greatest commander of the Zhou Dynasty, and his supposed father, Ji Xiaoxiong.

“Where’s Little Red Sugar? Why didn’t she come?” Ji Junhong asked, curious. He had assumed his second brother would bring the little girl along. The last time he saw her, she was eight; now, she must be nearly ten.

He had a particular fondness for the lively, talkative child.

“She’ll come later,” Ji Huo replied casually.

Ji Junhong glanced at his brother, nodded with a smile, and said, “There’s a room prepared for her in your courtyard. When she arrives, she can move in directly.”

“Thank you, Big Brother.” Ji Huo smiled in return.

…

In the study sat a man of such imposing stature that his clothes could barely contain his muscular frame—a giant who looked like a bear squeezed into human garments.

With a square face and a thick beard, he radiated sternness and authority. It was impossible to reconcile this man with the gentle, jade-like Ji Junhong outside.

At that moment, the Duke Guardian of the Nation—the Flying Bear General—had both feet propped up on the desk, swinging them idly, glancing out the window now and then, scratching here and there, restless as a child with too much energy.

To be honest, he seldom spent time in the study; he much preferred the barracks, roughhousing with his soldiers. But that didn’t mean he never came here. Sometimes, when sleep eluded him, he would come and, without fail, doze off the moment he sat down.

“What’s taking so long? Why aren’t they here yet?” Ji Xiaoxiong muttered. Suddenly, recalling something, he reached under the desk and fished out a small bottle of wine, a nostalgic, wistful smile spreading across his face.

He uncorked the bottle and took a hearty swig, his expression one of utter satisfaction.

“Ruer, our youngest son has been found… He’s come home…”

He sighed softly. For a moment, his massive figure seemed tinged with loneliness.

In the distance, the laughter and conversation of two young men drifted nearer.

Ji Xiaoxiong tensed, quickly stashing the wine bottle in his robe, lowering his feet, straightening his clothes, and smoothing his beard before taking a dignified seat.

He rubbed his face, letting his expression settle into a stern paternal mask.

What else was he forgetting? Ah, yes!

He picked up a book he’d set aside earlier, flipped it open at random, and after considering his pose, switched to propping his chin with his left hand and holding the book with his right, feigning deep concentration.

Yes, that’s better.

“You can go in by yourself. When you’re done, come find me in my courtyard,” came the eldest son’s voice from outside.

“All right,” answered a clear, youthful voice.

Soon after, footsteps approached and someone knocked at the study door.

“Come in,” Ji Xiaoxiong rumbled.

The door opened, and Ji Huo stepped in—only to be confronted by what seemed a giant black bear, or rather, an extraordinarily robust man.

Whether it was his mountain-like build or the faint aura of pressure he exuded, Ji Huo could sense at once that this was a supreme master.

Yet the man was clutching a book clearly too small for his massive hands, and it was obvious he’d never read it before.

It reminded Ji Huo of those little English vocabulary booklets he’d held while squatting in the restroom back in the previous century.

No matter how he looked at it, the sight was all kinds of awkward.