Martial Immortality: Starting with the Spirit Beast Scroll

"The 24th year of the Yuanxi reign was a year of great bounty. The late rice yielded a bumper harvest, with a dou of rice costing three fen. On the ninth day of the ninth month, between the Shen and You hours, auspicious clouds were seen—a sign of great prosperity." — *Annals of Yan Province*.

In the inner city of Yongning, Yan Province, a horse-drawn carriage slowly stopped before an imposing mansion.

The carriage drew to a stop. A man in his thirties wearing crimson official robes stepped out. He narrowed his crescent-shaped eyes and gazed at the plaque above the entrance, which read "Zhao Mansion." His expression was grave.

"And where might you be from, my lord?" a gatekeeper asked as he came out.

"My surname is Liu. I’ve come from Ying Province," the official replied, handing over a visiting card.

"Please wait a moment, my lord."

The gatekeeper accepted the card and disappeared into the mansion.

A short while later, the gates opened again. A burly, ruddy-faced man in his forties emerged, wearing a formal cap and a round-collared robe.

Though dressed as a steward, his powerful build, rough features, and fleshy face created an incongruous image.

The official stepped forward. "Brother Tian, is Duke Zhen in residence today?"

"You’re too kind, Lord Liu!"

The ruddy-faced man waved a large hand, a roguish air about him. "I’m just Old Tian, a commoner who happens to work for the Duke’s Mansion. Think of me as... a minor devil standing guard before the King of Hell’s throne. I’m not worthy of such a title."

He then grinned. "You’ve come at just the right time, Lord Liu. The Duke only returns to the mansion on the tenth and twentieth of the month. As it happens, he’s here today."

The official, whose surname was Liu, breathed a sigh of relief. "Then I’ll trouble you to lead the way, Brother Tian."

"This way!"

The ruddy-faced man gestured with his hand and led the way.

As they traversed halls and courtyards, past carved beams, painted rafters, pavilions, and towers, the official surnamed Liu couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.

’When I first met him over a decade ago,’ he reflected, ’the man who is now Duke Zhen was just an apprentice at a boxing academy, working under me as a constable. I never imagined that in the blink of an eye, he would become the Duke Zhen of Great Yue, the greatest martial artist of this age.’

’Everyone who had ever worked with him or shown him the slightest favor had risen through the ranks along with him, their fortunes soaring.’

’Take this Tian Dabang, for instance. He was originally just a minor river-gang boss scrapping for a living on the docks. Now he’s the respected steward of the Zhao Mansion, living a life of luxury.’

’How unpredictable the world is.’

’Then again, my own rapid promotions are also thanks to him.’

This official, surnamed Liu, was none other than the former Magistrate Liu of Qinghe County. On account of his outstanding administrative record, he had since been promoted to the rank of prefect.

Tian Dabang led Prefect Liu to the study and had tea served. He smiled and said, "The Duke is with a guest at the moment. He’ll be along shortly."

Prefect Liu thanked him. "Please, Brother Tian, don’t let me keep you. I’m fine to wait here alone."

"Very well. Just call if you need anything, Lord Liu."

Tian Dabang took his leave.

Prefect Liu sipped his tea distractedly, his eyes casually surveying the study. ’Meeting me in his private study... The Duke doesn’t consider me an outsider.’

The room was clean and uncluttered, the furnishings spartan. There was only a wide desk, a single bookshelf, and a Nine Palace Diagram hanging on the wall.

The design of the Nine Palace Diagram was rather peculiar.

Eight of the nine squares contained paintings of animals: a bear, a raccoon dog, a marten, a bat, a white silkworm, a catfish, a rat, and a red silkworm. The last square was empty.

Prefect Liu marveled privately. ’What could be the meaning,’ he wondered, ’of putting such a disparate group of animals together?’

Just then, the sound of footsteps announced an arrival. A tall young man with a short, trimmed mustache entered the study.

It was Zhao Lin.

Prefect Liu scrambled to his feet. "This subordinate pays his respects to Duke Zhen." He began to bow.

Zhao Lin reached out to stop him, a smile on his face. "There’s no need for such formality, Lord Liu. Please, have a seat."

After a few more polite protests, Prefect Liu cautiously sat down.

"When did you arrive, Lord Liu?"

"It was a bountiful year; I trust the harvest in Ying Province was good..."

Once they were seated, Zhao Lin made small talk, asking about the situation in Ying Province.

Prefect Liu answered each question in turn.

Eleven years ago, Zhao Lin had been ennobled as a marquis after a single battle. He went on to win the next two imperial martial tournaments, rendering unparalleled service to Great Yue. At the age of twenty-six, he was named Duke Zhen.

At twenty-nine, he won yet again, this time as a Primordial Realm master, achieving the unprecedented "Grand Quadruple Victory."

After his own promotion to prefect, Magistrate Liu had learned of these secrets and couldn’t help but feel relieved that he had treated Zhao Lin fairly back in the day.

Observing him now, Liu saw that Zhao Lin’s face had changed little, though he was more mature and composed. But his station in life was different now; every gesture, every glance, carried an immense weight and authority.

"Lord Liu, you’re the prefect of Ying Province. Is your presence in Yan Province entirely above board?"

Zhao Lin spun a teacup on the table, asking with deliberate casualness.

"There is no cause for concern. I had other official business in Yan Province and took the opportunity to pay my respects to Your Grace," Prefect Liu replied with a slight bow.

Zhao Lin nodded and paused for a moment in thought. "My brother, Liang Song... have you found any news of him?"

After achieving fame and success, Zhao Lin had made a point of helping his old acquaintances and repaying those who had shown him kindness.

He had offered positions in Yan Province to those willing to move, and for those who preferred to stay, he made arrangements to ensure they were well taken care of in Qinghe County.

He had even recommended several disciples from the Liuhe Sect to study at the Xingyun Sect’s outer court. For those with less talent in martial arts, he helped find them other respectable livelihoods.

His only regret was that Liang Song—his best friend, a man with whom he shared a bond forged in life and death—had suddenly vanished from the face of the earth without a trace.

Due to the distance and his own high-profile position, it had been inconvenient for Zhao Lin to investigate personally. Instead, he had written to Prefect Liu for help. Two months later, the prefect had arrived in person.

"That is precisely why I have come."

Prefect Liu’s expression turned serious. "I had my men question all of Liang Song’s sect brothers and neighbors, compiling a list of everyone he was in contact with for the three months prior to his departure. We finally found a lead."

"Oh?"

A flicker of light crossed Zhao Lin’s eyes. "Please, Lord Liu, tell me."

Prefect Liu continued, "In the first month of the 19th year of the Yuanxi reign, a Daoist priest arrived in Qinghe County. He made a special trip to Shuncheng Street to find Liang Song. Many residents of Shuncheng Street saw this Daoist."

"Half a month later, Liang Song resigned from his post at the yamen and left the martial arts hall. Someone saw him leaving town with the Daoist..."

Zhao Lin held up a hand, silencing him. He murmured to himself, "The first month of the 19th year of Yuanxi..."

He thought for a moment, then recalled that in the second month of that same year, he had written a letter asking Liang Song to join him in Yan Province. But before he could send it, a letter from Liang Song had arrived first.

In the letter, Liang Song had reminisced about their past together, and ended by saying he was grateful for their brotherhood and that they would meet again if fate decreed it.

Zhao Lin had found it strange at the time. ’Meet again if fate decreed it? It sounded like a final farewell.’

However, he had been busy preparing for the third imperial martial tournament and decided to get in touch afterward. He never imagined that would be the last he’d ever hear from Liang Song.

If not for that letter, Zhao Lin might have suspected Liang Song had been murdered or abducted. But Liang Song had not only written to him, but also formally resigned from his post as a constable, which proved he had left of his own free will.

"The timeline matches up!"

Zhao Lin nodded, his brow furrowed slightly. "But why would he get involved with a Daoist?"

Prefect Liu didn’t dare to interrupt, waiting quietly to the side.

After a moment, Zhao Lin collected his thoughts. "Lord Liu, please continue."

Prefect Liu resumed his report. "I learned from the city guards that Liang Song and the Daoist left through the east gate. I guessed they might have gone to the neighboring county to the east, so I dispatched men to trace their steps."

"But as my men followed the trail, they found that they hadn’t gone to the neighboring county at all. Instead, they had traveled continuously southeast, passing through three provinces and more than a dozen prefectures, all the way to Qi Province."

"After that, the trail went cold. No one saw them again."

Zhao Lin’s expression changed. "Qi Province... That’s on the coast, isn’t it?"

"Indeed it is," replied Prefect Liu.

Zhao Lin shook his head with a wry laugh. "Don’t tell me my brother ran off to become a Daoist priest?"

He then cupped his hands in a formal gesture of thanks. "Thank you, Lord Liu."

"It was a small matter, not worth mentioning," Prefect Liu hurriedly replied.

...

After seeing Prefect Liu out, Zhao Lin returned to his study.

He walked over to the Nine Palace Diagram and stood before it, hands clasped behind his back. His mind suddenly flashed back to the image of a boy swinging a hoe, tilling the earth on Baitou Mountain, right after he had transmigrated to this world.

’It’s been fifteen years...’