Synopsis:

The grand and prosperous Dayuan, with abundant granaries, enjoys peace and prosperity.

Yet beneath this golden age, barbarian tribes eye the land like tigers, regional warlords grow powerful, and the great edifice is on the verge of collapse.

William Carter, who originally wished to roam the martial world with a carefree smile, embarks on the path of the imperial examinations, riding a donkey into Chang'an.

Thus begins the legendary tale of a minister who serves in court by day, reigns as king in the shadows by night, and single-handedly supports a nation in peril.

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A free-spirited and roguish spymaster, a foul-mouthed, limping thief's apprentice, a penniless yet willful young master of a money house,

a shy and honest Go prodigy, a beautiful and proud princess, a clean and cheerful young assassin...

This martial world, this imperial court, will never be dull!!!

Volume One: In Shuzhou—The Impoverished Taoist Enters the Academy

Chapter One: The Young Taoist on Mount Micang

One li west of Shuzhou city stands Mount Micang. The mountain rises less than a hundred zhang, lacking any imposing grandeur, and compared to the towering Mount Qingcheng to the north, it seems all the more unimpressive.

Yet now, in June, the morning mist shrouds this small mountain, as if draped in a delicate white veil, lending it an ethereal air.

At the summit of Mount Micang, as if sliced flat by a horizontal blade, lies a smooth black stone plateau. Atop this flat peak sits a dilapidated little Taoist temple, facing the mountain path, with an ancient pine tree—half struck by lightning yet still tenaciously rooted in the stone crevice—standing strong before it.

At this moment, beneath that pine, a young Taoist holds a green longsword in his hand, his swordplay as fluid as a swimming dragon.

The young Taoist appears to be about eighteen or nineteen, his slightly oversized green robe faded from many washings. His features are clear and handsome, and as he wields the longsword with focused seriousness, his expression is earnest and solemn.

The green sword is three feet long, its blade gleaming cold and sharp as frost. As for his sword moves, they are strange—seemingly slow, yet actually swift, at times like lightning, at times like a gentle breeze. The transitions between moves are somewhat awkward, as if many sword techniques have been pieced together, making his performance rather odd.

On the threshold of the temple sits an old Taoist, his hair and beard completely white, dressed in tattered robes—most likely the abbot of this little temple. In his left hand he holds a yellow wine gourd, while his right hand picks at his toes poking out from worn straw sandals. He watches the young Taoist practice with a look of contentment, showing not a trace of immortal dignity, but rather resembling a country farmer watching his grandchildren play in the mud.

After finishing a set of sword moves, a sharp light flashes in the young Taoist's eyes. Without breaking his momentum, he thrusts his sword at a square green stone beneath the pine. The tip of the sword lightly touches the stone, yet not a sound is heard.

Sheathing his sword, he crouches down to carefully examine the stone. After a long look, he stands up, scratches his head in frustration, and says to the old Taoist sitting on the threshold, "Master, did you teach me wrong? I've been practicing for twelve years, but I still haven't reached the third rank you mentioned, where sword energy can split stone. How am I supposed to travel the martial world like this? I'd have to run away at the sight of anyone—how embarrassing would that be?"

The old Taoist lifts the gourd and drains the last drop of wine, shakes it to make sure it's empty, then stands up and glances at the young Taoist, curling his lip. " William Carter, I told you long ago you have no talent for swordsmanship. You insisted on pestering me to teach you. Now you're blaming me?"

The young Taoist called William Carter rolls his eyes, then puts on a smile, revealing two shallow dimples. He sheaths his sword, grins at the old Taoist, and says, "How could I? Master, you are wise and mighty, brave and resourceful. Why don't you teach me a few more powerful moves, so I won't lose to others when I go out? Otherwise, wouldn't that be your reputation on the line?"

The old Taoist squints, clearly pleased, and nods. "The first half of your sentence sounds good, but the second half is nonsense. What reputation do I have to lose? If you can't beat others, it's your own fault. By the way, today you should go to the Chongzhou Academy. I've already spoken with Old Man Zeng. You'll study with his group of blockheaded disciples for two months, so you won't be clueless when the qualifying exam comes."

William Carter pulls a long face. "Master, you can't be serious. I've read a lot of books, but I know nothing about the imperial exams. I was hoping to practice swordsmanship for another two years, then go down the mountain to make my way in the world."

"If you can win first place in the autumn exam two months from now, those gentry and wealthy merchants will definitely try to befriend you with money—and it won't be a small sum," the old Taoist says with a smile, looking at William Carter.

"Really?" At the mention of money, William Carter's eyes light up, though he still asks skeptically, "Why would people give me money just for winning first place? It's not like they have nowhere else to spend it."

"Winning first place makes you the top scholar among all the students in Shuzhou. If you go to Chang'an for the national exam and pass, you'll at least get an official post. Those people are shrewd—spending a little silver now is like sending charcoal in the snow, much more useful than adding flowers to brocade after you return home in glory," the old Taoist explains.