Chapter 1: The Long Journey

Zhao Chun kept her eyes straight ahead, following behind the woman.

The woman was in her early forties, with a few strands of gray at her temples. Seen from behind, her figure was thin, yet she held her back straight, maintaining an air of haughty pride.

"We depart tomorrow. Have you packed everything?"

Zhao Chun knew she was being addressed and replied, "Everything is ready."

The woman said nothing more. The two walked in silence until they reached the room. Seeing the woman’s weary expression, Zhao Chun tactfully excused herself and hurried back to her own room in a few quick strides.

The woman was her mother in name, though not by blood. In the parlance of this world, she was her *di* mother. Zhao Chun had originally been an ordinary person in the modern world with a decent salary, able to visit her parents during holidays. Perhaps because her life had been too smooth, she was diagnosed with leukemia shortly after saving up for a down payment on a home. The illness progressed too rapidly; she passed away before a matching bone marrow donor could be found.

Before closing her eyes, Zhao Chun had wondered if she would really see the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guardians of the underworld. Instead of meeting the King of Hell or his minions, she opened her eyes to find herself an infant who couldn't even speak. They called the woman who gave birth to her "Lady Li." By the time she was a wobbly one-year-old, Lady Li had died of a sudden illness, and Zhao Chun was raised by a wet nurse.

At first, she thought she had traveled back to ancient times, but later she realized that wasn't quite right. Although the world was divided among various states, it was not the Spring and Autumn period or the Five Dynasties. There were those with great ability who could shatter mountains and rocks with their strength; the world called them "warriors."

"A rather fantasy-like world, then," Zhao Chun thought.

As she grew older, she developed her own assessment of these warriors. They possessed strength far beyond that of ordinary people, yet they still had to learn to wield blades and spears, or their raw power would be difficult to channel. However, in these chaotic times of constant strife, warriors could profit greatly, rising to become marquises and ministers.

Zhao Chun’s father, Zhao Jian, was born a commoner. Relying on his martial prowess, he was enfeoffed as a Grand Master and governed a commandery. Having tasted the fruits of success, Zhao Jian naturally hoped his descendants would follow the path of martial arts. He had spent most of his life fighting, had many confidantes, and consequently, many children. Among them were indeed a few martial geniuses, whom he took under his wing to teach personally.

As for Zhao Chun, she was not cut out to be a warrior. In fact, even in a society that valued martial arts above all else, women who practiced were few and far between. Among all her half-sisters, only Zhao Nian could spar with the boys, which showed just how rare women on the martial path were.

The status of women in ancient times was already low, and men mostly kept multiple wives and concubines. Because this world revered martial power, a chasm existed between people. Zhao Jian had a house full of wives and concubines, but he was neither romantic nor understanding; he was vain, impulsive, and quick-tempered. Among the women in the inner courtyard, it was common for those who displeased him to be beaten to death. Zhao Chun took this as a stern warning. She dared not entrust her life to anyone else, so even without talent, she forced herself to go to the training grounds to practice martial arts every single day of the year, without exception.

The blades were too heavy, the spears too long, and she had no access to unconventional weapons. There was a sword instructor at the training grounds named Zheng, a refugee from the State of Lü who happened to be a female swordswoman. Seeing Zhao Chun’s diligence and knowing how difficult life was for women, she was willing to teach her earnestly. From the age of six to ten, under Instructor Zheng’s guidance, Zhao Chun learned to perform several complete sword forms. However, she lacked strength; her swordsmanship was all form and no substance, insufficient for the battlefield. She could only persist, hoping to use it for self-defense.

Last month, the Royal City issued a conscription order for children between the ages of eight and twelve from the commanderies to be selected by the Lingzhen Daoist Temple within the State of Chu. Zhao Jian had children of his own in that age range and was furious upon hearing the news.

"If some of my children are martial seeds and get taken away by this so-called temple, what will the Zhao family rely on to prosper?"

Madam Zhao advised him, "It is the King’s order; we have no choice but to comply. More and more Daoists have been walking the Royal City these past few years. If the King didn't value them, why would it be so? In the end, he is just getting old and starting to seek immortality." Her own children were already grown, so this conscription had little to do with her.

"If one could truly achieve immortality, everyone in the world would be practicing Daoism. They talk about seeking transcendence, but isn't it all for the sake of wealth? The King is muddled in his old age and has been bewitched by them." These words were only for Madam Zhao’s ears; he dared not spread them further.

Among the Zhao children of the appropriate age, there were exactly three boys and three girls, and Zhao Chun was among them. She did not resist the conscription. Survival in a chaotic world was not easy; practicing martial arts was for self-defense and independence. If she were selected to enter the temple, she would not have to marry. Even if she spent her whole life in the temple, it would be better than following the "three obediences and four virtues." At the very least, she would be able to decide her own fate.

As a modern person, her mindset was vastly different from the locals. The two half-sisters being conscripted with her did not feel the same way. Most Daoists lived in poverty, severed from worldly ties. The sisters were used to being waited on hand and foot by servants, and they could not bear the thought of a life of asceticism. They all hoped to fail the selection so they could return home. As for the one brother and two younger brothers, they were determined to pursue the martial path. Out of the six, only Zhao Chun actually wanted to be selected.

On the night before departure, Zhao Chun suffered a rare bout of insomnia. Her status in the Zhao family was low, and her future would likely involve being married off as a tool for alliance. Entering the temple to cultivate was the best path she could see. If she wasn't selected, she would have to make other plans.

She was only ten; her life had barely begun. Zhao Chun turned to face the wall. Moonlight spilled in from the window, a vast expanse of white, with a few insects dancing in the air. *One step at a time,* she thought, curling into her quilt and forcing her mind to go blank. There was much to do tomorrow; she needed to be well-rested.

Just as orange-gold clouds appeared on the horizon and the distant mountains were still shrouded in night, Zhao Chun was woken up. Her luggage was already packed and placed on the shelf by the bed. It wasn't that she had no one to serve her, but Zhao Chun was uncomfortable with it and never allowed servants into her room; she handled her daily grooming and dressing herself.

Pingyang Commandery, where the Zhao family resided, was not large. Although the population was only a few tens of thousands, there were over eight hundred children of the appropriate age. Families of status rode in four-wheeled carriages, those with money rented mule carts, and the commoners had to rely on ox carts arranged by the government. Zhao Chun felt fortunate to have been born into the Commandery Duke’s mansion, sparing her from being squeezed into an ox cart with a dozen others.

She had been in this world for a long time, but this was her first time traveling far. Not long after the carriage started, she couldn't help but lift the curtain to look outside. The convoy moved at a steady pace; the tall gates of Pingyang Commandery grew smaller, and the winding city walls looked like a black snake, eventually turning into a thin, dark line. The Zhao family’s carriage was at the front, followed by the mule and ox carts. Inside them, others were peeking out just like Zhao Chun, their young, naive faces visible at the window frames.

Sharing the carriage with her were her two sisters who had just turned eleven, Zhao Yue and Zhao Mian. Like Zhao Chun, they were born to concubines, but they were much luckier; their birth mothers were still alive and doted on them.

Zhao Chun had started practicing martial arts at six, so she was taller than her peers. Her skin was fair but not delicate, a bit rougher than the girls pampered in the inner courtyard. She was adaptable and full of curiosity, so she didn't feel tired sitting in the carriage. As for Zhao Yue and Zhao Mian, they looked listless, complaining of chest tightness and dizziness before they had even left the city gates.

"I've never ridden in such a crude carriage. The roads in the city are paved flat; they aren't like this, all broken up," Zhao Yue leaned against a cushion, her small face pale from the jolting.

Zhao Chun didn't respond. Zhao Mian was doing better; though uncomfortable, she was still spirited. Clutching her luggage, she said, "We've barely started. I heard it takes three days and nights for a fast horse to reach the Royal City. At our speed, it will probably take half a month."

Hearing this bad news, Zhao Yue slumped backward, her lips moving, but she said nothing more.

The carriage was quiet for a long while. Zhao Chun had come prepared; she pulled a book titled *A Hundred Strange Tales of Jin and Chu* from her bundle and read it with great interest. The language of this world was similar to ancient Chinese, and since she had studied linguistics in her past life, she progressed quickly.

"Is your name Zhao Chun?" Zhao Mian was only eleven and couldn't stay still. After fiddling with everything in her bundle and finding nothing to play with, she struck up a conversation.

Zhao Chun had just finished a ghost story and answered nonchalantly, "Yes." Zhao Jian had so many children that she didn't know them all. If Madam Zhao hadn't made them gather before leaving to get familiar with one another, she wouldn't even have known their names.

Zhao Mian was the same; she had only learned who Zhao Chun was yesterday. This younger sister never attended the gatherings of the Zhao daughters and was a transparent figure among the sisters.

"What book are you reading?"

"Here." Zhao Chun closed the book to show her the cover, then opened it back to her page and continued reading. The journey was long, and if she engaged with a girl this age once, she would be pestered constantly. Zhao Chun didn't want the trouble, so she decided to brand herself as an antisocial, taciturn person, keeping others at a distance.

Having been given the cold shoulder, Zhao Mian didn't want to keep trying, so she sulked and sat to the side.

(End of chapter)