Joy of Life - V1C1
Prologue: Nice Guys Finish Last
1- A Child of the Tanmai
2- The Truman Show
3- The Legacy Book
4- Studies and Ghost Stories
5- The Noctural Visitor
6- Master Wu Zhu
7- Master Fei Jie
8- Grandmasters and Divine Temple
9- Overpowering Bàdào Zhenqi
10- The Sea Salt Merchant
11- Farewell for now, Master Fei Jie
12- Mail Order and Newspapers
13- Radish Strands
14- Housekeeper Zhou
15- Ay-ya-ya-yaaa
VOLUME 1: DANZHOU
Chapter 1
The Child of a Tianmai
In the 57th year of the Qing Empire, the Emperor's campaign against the Western barbarians showed no signs of resolution. Count Sinan accompanied the army, while the Empress Dowager and the Overwatch Council leaders managed the affairs of the capital.
On this particular day, a fire erupted at the Taiping Courtyard, situated on the outskirts of the capital along the banks of the Liujing River. Under the cover of the flames, a group of assassins prowled the night, seizing the opportunity to invade homes and commit a brutal massacre against anyone they encountered.
Amidst the chaos, a young servant from the courtyard valiantly fought back while carrying his young master, pursued by several assassins cloaked in dark attire. The conflict erupted at the southern gate of the city walls.
The ambushing fighters were taken aback by the astonishing strength of this seemingly frail youth. Upon reaching a hill, they came face to face with masked figures whose identities sent chills through their veins.
“The Black Knights!” the fearsome assassins shouted as they fell, struck down by arrows from crossbows.
The riders, cloaked in black armor and bathed in moonlight, exuded an unsettling aura reminiscent of soul collectors. Equipped only with their standard crossbows, they swiftly eliminated a majority of the assailants in a series of shots.
Among the cavalry, a frail middle-aged man was seated in a carriage. His pale complexion contrasted sharply with the scene as he watched the young man carrying a child. He nodded and then softly clapped his hands. That clap served as the command to launch the attack!
A squad split off from the cavalry, and like a reaper’s scythe in the night, they charged relentlessly into the bloody fray, laying waste to the ranks of killers.
Suddenly, a sorcerer emerged from amongst the assassins. Lifting his staff, he began to chant an incantation. They all felt the rumbling of some unspeakable force gathering on the hills.
The man in the carriage frowned slightly, but he did not move. From his side, a shadow leaped into the night sky, soaring upward like an eagle.
With a crunching sound, the sorcerer’s chanting stopped, and his head was severed violently from his shoulders, his blood spilling like a shower of rain.
The man in the carriage shook his head. “These sorcerers from the West simply don't get it,” he remarked. “When confronted with true strength, magic is as ineffective as a minister’s writing brush.”
The perimeter was secure, as dozens of cold-as-steel riders raised their right fists in a signal that the assassins had been thoroughly defeated.
The ranks of cavalry parted, allowing the carriage to roll forward, coming to a stop in front of the young servant. With the support of his aides, the man transferred himself from the carriage to a wheelchair, his legs too injured to walk. He moved at a leisurely pace toward the center of the battlefield, while the young servant stood tall and unwavering.
As the wheelchair-bound man spotted the bamboo basket on the young man's back, a faint blush appeared on his otherwise pale face. “Finally, you’re here,” he remarked.
The young man, with the basket slung over his shoulders, had his eyes concealed by a black cloth. In his hand, he clutched a long iron rod, from which blood dripped slowly. Around him lay the bodies of those who had attacked him, their throats stained with blood from what appeared to be fatal strikes.
"I need you to give me an explanation for me," he said in a cold, steady voice that showed no hint of emotion.
The wheelchair-bound man's expression shifted from concern to a conspiratorial gaze. "Certainly, I’ll explain," he replied, "but I also have to report back first to my master.”
The young servant nodded and got ready to depart.
“Where are you taking this child?” the middle-aged man in the wheelchair asked with a stern tone. “Please don’t tell me you intend to have Young Master wander the world with you.”
“This is her ladyship[i]’s own flesh and blood.”
"That’s the master's flesh and blood, too!" the middle-aged man in the wheelchair responded frostily. "I can assure you I can find a very secure place for Young Master here in the capital."
The other young man shook his head, adjusting the black strap hanging from his shoulder. The middle-aged man realized that this boy would listen only to that young lady; he couldn't be guided by anyone else, not even his own master. With a sigh, the middle-aged man reflected, "Everything happening in the capital will calm down once the master is back. So why do you insist on removing him?"
"I don’t trust your master."
The middle-aged man frowned slightly, feeling a surge of disgust at the remark. He paused for a moment before responding, “A young child needs to nurse to learn to speak; can you provide that?” He laughed derisively. “You, a blind man? What can you do besides kill?”
The other man remained calm, merely nudging the bamboo basket on his back. “You also seem only capable of violence, crippled man.”
The middle-aged man let out a chilling laugh. “This time, it was merely those upper-class noblemen in the capital. Once the master is back, I’ll naturally take care of them.”
The blind youth shook his head again.
The middle-aged man gently rubbed his wheelchair, as if trying to discern the other’s worries. After a moment, he frowned. “I know your fear, but only the child's father can truly protect him in this world. Who else has the power to help him escape such an unseen danger?”
The blind youth suddenly spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. “A new identity, a new life left in peace.”
The middle-aged man considered this for a moment, then nodded with half a grin. “Danzhou. The master’s mother currently resides there.”
After a brief silence, the blind young man finally agreed and turned to leave.
On this particular day, a fire erupted at the Taiping Courtyard, situated on the outskirts of the capital along the banks of the Liujing River. Under the cover of the flames, a group of assassins prowled the night, seizing the opportunity to invade homes and commit a brutal massacre against anyone they encountered.
Amidst the chaos, a young servant from the courtyard valiantly fought back while carrying his young master, pursued by several assassins cloaked in dark attire. The conflict erupted at the southern gate of the city walls.
The ambushing fighters were taken aback by the astonishing strength of this seemingly frail youth. Upon reaching a hill, they came face to face with masked figures whose identities sent chills through their veins.
“The Black Knights!” the fearsome assassins shouted as they fell, struck down by arrows from crossbows.
The riders, cloaked in black armor and bathed in moonlight, exuded an unsettling aura reminiscent of soul collectors. Equipped only with their standard crossbows, they swiftly eliminated a majority of the assailants in a series of shots.
Among the cavalry, a frail middle-aged man was seated in a carriage. His pale complexion contrasted sharply with the scene as he watched the young man carrying a child. He nodded and then softly clapped his hands. That clap served as the command to launch the attack!
A squad split off from the cavalry, and like a reaper’s scythe in the night, they charged relentlessly into the bloody fray, laying waste to the ranks of killers.
Suddenly, a sorcerer emerged from amongst the assassins. Lifting his staff, he began to chant an incantation. They all felt the rumbling of some unspeakable force gathering on the hills.
The man in the carriage frowned slightly, but he did not move. From his side, a shadow leaped into the night sky, soaring upward like an eagle.
With a crunching sound, the sorcerer’s chanting stopped, and his head was severed violently from his shoulders, his blood spilling like a shower of rain.
The man in the carriage shook his head. “These sorcerers from the West simply don't get it,” he remarked. “When confronted with true strength, magic is as ineffective as a minister’s writing brush.”
The perimeter was secure, as dozens of cold-as-steel riders raised their right fists in a signal that the assassins had been thoroughly defeated.
The ranks of cavalry parted, allowing the carriage to roll forward, coming to a stop in front of the young servant. With the support of his aides, the man transferred himself from the carriage to a wheelchair, his legs too injured to walk. He moved at a leisurely pace toward the center of the battlefield, while the young servant stood tall and unwavering.
As the wheelchair-bound man spotted the bamboo basket on the young man's back, a faint blush appeared on his otherwise pale face. “Finally, you’re here,” he remarked.
The young man, with the basket slung over his shoulders, had his eyes concealed by a black cloth. In his hand, he clutched a long iron rod, from which blood dripped slowly. Around him lay the bodies of those who had attacked him, their throats stained with blood from what appeared to be fatal strikes.
"I need you to give me an explanation for me," he said in a cold, steady voice that showed no hint of emotion.
The wheelchair-bound man's expression shifted from concern to a conspiratorial gaze. "Certainly, I’ll explain," he replied, "but I also have to report back first to my master.”
The young servant nodded and got ready to depart.
“Where are you taking this child?” the middle-aged man in the wheelchair asked with a stern tone. “Please don’t tell me you intend to have Young Master wander the world with you.”
“This is her ladyship[i]’s own flesh and blood.”
"That’s the master's flesh and blood, too!" the middle-aged man in the wheelchair responded frostily. "I can assure you I can find a very secure place for Young Master here in the capital."
The other young man shook his head, adjusting the black strap hanging from his shoulder. The middle-aged man realized that this boy would listen only to that young lady; he couldn't be guided by anyone else, not even his own master. With a sigh, the middle-aged man reflected, "Everything happening in the capital will calm down once the master is back. So why do you insist on removing him?"
"I don’t trust your master."
The middle-aged man frowned slightly, feeling a surge of disgust at the remark. He paused for a moment before responding, “A young child needs to nurse to learn to speak; can you provide that?” He laughed derisively. “You, a blind man? What can you do besides kill?”
The other man remained calm, merely nudging the bamboo basket on his back. “You also seem only capable of violence, crippled man.”
The middle-aged man let out a chilling laugh. “This time, it was merely those upper-class noblemen in the capital. Once the master is back, I’ll naturally take care of them.”
The blind youth shook his head again.
The middle-aged man gently rubbed his wheelchair, as if trying to discern the other’s worries. After a moment, he frowned. “I know your fear, but only the child's father can truly protect him in this world. Who else has the power to help him escape such an unseen danger?”
The blind youth suddenly spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. “A new identity, a new life left in peace.”
The middle-aged man considered this for a moment, then nodded with half a grin. “Danzhou. The master’s mother currently resides there.”
After a brief silence, the blind young man finally agreed and turned to leave.
The middle-aged man, still smiling, maneuvered his wheelchair to follow the blind youth. He reached out to peer at the child in the bamboo basket, seeing the baby’s delicate, snow-white face, and sighed.
“He certainly resembles his mother. So beautiful,” he said, laughing heartily. “This little one will grow up to make a name for himself.”
His subordinates stood quietly at a distance, startled by their superior’s sudden outburst of laughter. Although their faces remained impassive, they were deeply unsettled, unaware of the true significance of this child.
“Huh?” The blind young man tilted his head, careful not to accidentally touch the baby. While he meant no harm, he wished to keep the child's face from the dangerous man's hands. He replied with a single word, driven by polite curiosity.
The middle-aged man smiled again, his gaze fixed intently on the child's face, although something indescribably unsettling lingered in that smile.
“Just two months old, and he has already wiped blood from his face,” the man continued, his tone turning serious. “After witnessing the horrific events of tonight, he sleeps soundly. This shows…”
Suddenly, he lowered his voice, making sure that even his subordinates couldn't catch his next words. “…he is the offspring of a Tianmai.”
This middle-aged man held far-fetched power within the Empire and was infamous for his unmatched ruthlessness. Any official who dared to break the law and fell into his clutches would confess their offenses within two days. His gaze was as frightening as his reputation; however, he remained oblivious to the fact that the child was not merely asleep but had actually fainted out of fear.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
According to the legends of this land, “Tianmai” was a celestial bloodline believed to emerge in the human realm every few centuries. This bloodline was often marked by extraordinary combat prowess and intelligence, as exemplified by a historical figure known as The General from the ancient nation of Nas. In a crucial moment of history, when his country faced destruction at the hands of barbarian invaders, he displayed immense bravery by assassinating numerous barbarian leaders utilizing his exceptional fighting skills.
Additionally, there have been individuals of Tianmai heritage who showcased remarkable abilities in the arts and wisdom, such as Boer the Scholar and his playwright wife, Fubo, who passed away 300 years ago. However, the existence of this bloodline has never been conclusively proven in the human world, as it is said that Heaven is aware of humanity's struggles. The Tianmai legacy brought more than just tranquility to this realm.[ii]
Moreover, all evidence of the Tianmai vanished; no individual or nation could locate any sign of their presence. They disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared, leaving behind only vague records and no concrete proof of their existence.
Interestingly, a middle-aged man in a wheelchair was one of the few to recognize this rare phenomenon, having met the child's mother in person, leaving no room for doubt.
As dawn broke, the battlefield was cleared, and a carriage slowly made its way along the stone road toward the capital. Following closely was an unusual scene—a squad of black-clad cavalry escorting a frail, pallid middle-aged man in a wheelchair.
In contrast, another carriage rattled over a rock in the opposite direction, trailed by a large group of masked figures. This sudden movement stirred a sleeping baby resting on a silk cushion. The infant's eyes—strikingly black with shimmering golden flecks resembling his mother's—opened wide and gazed ahead. His expression was unusually serious, radiating an indescribable aura.
Unbeknownst to everyone, the baby’s delicate form housed a soul from another world. As the carriage curtains fluttered open, he caught glimpses of the outside landscape. A breeze wafted through, revealing lush green mountains and a stone path that seemed to extend endlessly into the distance.
In front of the carriage, a blind young man held his iron rod firmly, his eyes covered by a black cloth that shielded him from both sight and sunlight.
[i] In ancient China, there was no direct equivalent to the English term "her ladyship." However, Western historians and translators often use it to denote specific honorifics and titles bestowed on women of high status, particularly within the imperial harem or noble families.
[ii] Fiction events and characters.
[ii] Fiction events and characters.
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