Chapter Five: The Martial Arts Prodigy

[Thanks to reader 0, This Matter Has Nothing to Do with Wind or Moon, for the reward~ Please vote for recommendations, votes give me the strength to update more.]

Having successfully drawn Fu Ru Gui away from the Fu family residence and into his own camp, Zhu Ci Lang swiftly took Fu Ru Gui with him, riding at full speed to the martial academy at the Great Xinglong Temple in the western part of the city.

The Ming martial academy was not a place for teaching martial arts in the usual sense, but rather for cultivating military talent. Its origins trace back to the Song dynasty, and in the Ming era, it was officially established in the sixth year of the Zhengtong reign. The original martial academy, known as the Capital Guards’ Martial Academy, selected promising sons of commanders below the rank of du dudu, those whose families matched their status, as well as young officers. However, after its founding, most students came from wealthy families, some even inheriting noble titles, and naturally, they were unwilling to study diligently—most rarely attended classes at all. By the third year of the Jingtai reign, only a dozen students remained. Thus, the academy ceased operations. It wasn’t until the fifteenth year of the Jiajing reign that it was relocated to the Great Xinglong Temple in the western city, continuing its educational mission almost within sight of the imperial city.

Soon, the two dismounted and walked, arriving at Xinglong Temple in the area that would later become Zhongnanhai, west of the imperial city.

Zhu Ci Lang, full of interest, hurried along, and indeed discovered at the side entrance an old plaque, the martial academy’s entrance with no gatekeeper in sight.

Fu Ru Gui, seeing this, remarked in surprise, “The gate is wide open; it seems someone has been practicing here lately.”

“Could it be that none of the capital’s sons have any heart for military studies?” Zhu Ci Lang said casually as he ascended the steps and entered the academy.

Fu Ru Gui sighed softly. “Few of the capital’s nobles can even mount a horse or draw a bow these days. As for commoners, how many can even read, let alone aspire to the martial academy? Moreover… the martial examination has declined, its prospects vanished—who would devote themselves to this path?”

Zhu Ci Lang fell silent, stepping slowly inside, surveying the highest military institution of the Ming.

The buildings within were ordinary, halls bearing plaques such as Hall of Enlightened Ethics, Chamber of Benevolent Living, Chamber of Righteous Conduct, all quiet and empty—not at all resembling a place of study.

Though he had anticipated this, actually seeing it made Zhu Ci Lang sigh inwardly. “I had hoped to pick out a few promising lads for you. We have veteran soldiers, and it’s possible to promote some junior officers. But limited education—illiteracy—means they cannot grasp military regulations. Their dullness makes it hard to promote anyone to the middle ranks. I hadn’t expected the martial academy to be truly deserted.”

“In that case, I recall someone,” Fu Ru Gui said as he and Zhu Ci Lang walked further inside. “The young brother Qin Xia must have heard of the martial scholar Wang Lai Pin.”

Zhu Ci Lang, seeing the Chamber of Benevolent Living ahead, walked over and nodded. “In the fourth year of the Chongzhen reign, the emperor named him martial champion, granting him the post of Deputy General in Dengzhou. Sadly, he later perished in the Dengzhou rebellion led by Kong You De.”

“When the emperor held the martial examination, hundreds competed, yet only two could wield the great saber. Wang Lai Pin was one of them,” Fu Ru Gui explained, and Zhu Ci Lang’s eyes brightened.

“Who was the other?” Zhu Ci Lang asked with keen interest.

“Xu Yan Qi,” Fu Ru Gui replied. “Xu Yan Qi failed the initial martial exam, which angered the emperor so much that he ordered a retest. Wang Lai Pin became the martial champion; Xu Yan Qi earned the title of martial scholar. But as the saying goes, ‘In literature, there’s no first; in martial arts, no second.’ If you are second, you fade into the crowd. Wang Lai Pin received the rank of Deputy General, while Xu Yan Qi could only return home as a mere garrison commander, without advancement.”

Zhu Ci Lang, hearing this, fixed his gaze on Fu Ru Gui. “Such talent wasted—a misfortune for the nation! Brother Ru Gui, I shall write a letter at once; please do your utmost to recruit this great talent!”

“Xu Yan Qi possesses exceptional martial skills, always seeking to serve the imperial house and achieve merit as a minister. This is the opportunity he’s longed for; a perfect match. I shall handle this reliably. However, Xu Yan Qi is far away in Jiangnan—correspondence and travel will take time. It may be two or three months before he arrives in the capital,” Fu Ru Gui replied with a smile, though he could not help but recall the matter of Zhu Ci Lang’s household staff.

Yet, observing Zhu Ci Lang’s manner, his tone throughout was that of an official of the court. But Qin Xia was merely a subordinate official of the sixth rank in the Ministry of Revenue—how could he wield such power? Might Qin Xia be transferring to the military path? Which branch would he join—Capital Garrison, border troops? Or… was it as his father said, that person behind Qin Xia?

Seeing Fu Ru Gui agree, Zhu Ci Lang nodded happily, pushed open the door of the Chamber of Benevolent Living, intending to sit inside and discuss matters further.

But just as Zhu Ci Lang pushed the door open, Fu Ru Gui suddenly became alert. “Who goes there? Sneaking about—show yourself!”

It turned out that, contrary to the two’s assumption that the martial academy was empty, someone was indeed inside!

Facing away from them, the figure made no sound or movement, but his brush and ink never paused, ceaselessly writing something.

“Brother Ru Gui, be at ease. That gentleman likely means no harm; after all, we barged in unannounced,” Zhu Ci Lang said, blocking Fu Ru Gui.

The two entered, but the figure ahead remained silent, neither speaking nor acknowledging them, leaving the two both puzzled and feeling as if they had disturbed his peace.

So Zhu Ci Lang walked over slowly.

Fu Ru Gui stepped forward more quickly, about to greet the man, but Zhu Ci Lang stopped him again. Pointing to a small piece of white paper at the side, he said, “Deaf ears, tranquil heart. If you wish to speak, write.”

Beside them, a sheet of white paper lay flat, a short, sharp-tipped brush poised and waiting.

“Perhaps he suffers from some unusual ailment,” Fu Ru Gui murmured softly.

Zhu Ci Lang nodded, gestured for silence, and walked over. He picked up the brush and wrote quietly, “Who are you, sir?”

After writing, Zhu Ci Lang stepped back, watching from afar as the man continued to write rapidly, then quickly began to sketch.

“This is…” Fu Ru Gui stared at what the man was drawing, murmuring in astonishment, “This is a Lightning Gun!”

“What is that? A breech-loading firearm?” Zhu Ci Lang was full of questions.

Seeing this, Fu Ru Gui carefully explained it to Zhu Ci Lang.

The Lightning Gun was about six feet long, weighed five pounds, and used a breech-loading chamber. It had six chambers, allowing the breech to be quickly swapped for rapid firing.

“Only, it’s not flintlock…” Zhu Ci Lang sighed inwardly. The chambers were still based on the Lu Mi gun system, meaning a matchlock.

Yet such chambers and breech-loading guns… they still seemed quite advanced.

Zhu Ci Lang looked at the man’s expression, which suddenly changed.

Zhu Ci Lang and Fu Ru Gui stood discussing in low voices for a long while; the man ahead seemed stuck at a certain point, unmoving for some time, until he finally set his brush down in frustration and noticed the paper left beside him.

Then he turned and saw Zhu Ci Lang and Fu Ru Gui.

At last, Zhu Ci Lang and Fu Ru Gui got to see the man’s true appearance.

He had the look and bearing of an ordinary scholar, full of scholarly air, though his face bore traces of hardship and sorrow, as if clouds of worry shrouded his heart.

After exchanging bows, the man picked up his brush and wrote, “I am Li Jun, a scholar from Shuntian Prefecture.”

“Qin Xia.”

“Fu Ru Gui!”

Zhu Ci Lang and Fu Ru Gui each wrote their names in turn, as a gesture of greeting.

This unique form of communication felt novel to Zhu Ci Lang and Fu Ru Gui; after their greetings, they quickly moved on to discuss the topic of firearms.