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The Eight-Hour Work System Of The Imperial Court Lackeys

The Eight-Hour Work System Of The Imperial Court Lackeys

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Chapter 8: Leaving Beijing

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Chapter 8: Leaving Beijing

“I won’t be a Commander for much longer.”

Zhu Zai finally sighed, then slowly began to speak.

As mentioned before, Great Shuo was quite similar to Li Miao’s previous life’s Da Ming. The situation Zhu Zai was currently facing was also similar to a certain period in Da Ming’s history.

The current Emperor had been on the throne for over twenty years, was old and frail, and had not attended to court affairs for many years. Within the imperial court, the three forces of Eunuchs, civil officials, and imperial relatives were intertwined, and undercurrents were already surging.

The head of a sensitive organization like the Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards) would certainly not escape this struggle.

Zhu Zai had noticed this and wanted to promote his trusted subordinates before he left. Firstly, while he still held power, he wanted to leave some political legacy for his subordinates. Secondly, he also wanted to leave some capital for himself, at least so he wouldn't be completely ousted from the center of power.

The successor he chose was Li Miao.

Li Miao had been under him for over twenty years, and he knew him inside and out. He had character, intelligence, and methods.

In terms of martial arts, although he rarely made a move, in Zhu Zai's opinion, he had at least quietly cultivated his martial arts to the level of a peerless master. It could be said that he was the successor he was most optimistic about.

The only problem was that he was like a stubborn piece of meat, only moving when prodded. It was as if high official positions and generous salaries were his enemies.

Zhu Zai looked at Li Miao and said, “Da Li, why are you unwilling to do anything?”

“A great man cannot be without power for a single day. Without power is to be powerless, and to be powerless is to be wrong, to be at the mercy of others.”

“I know your martial arts are good, but if you don’t cultivate yourself to be like a land immortal, how can you contend with elite soldiers and iron cavalry?”

Li Miao smiled.

One cannot discuss ice with a summer insect. Zhu Zai naturally didn't understand his thoughts, because he had always viewed problems from the perspective of a fragile, short-lived, and powerless ordinary person.

What was the point of power? What was the point of wealth?

To be born and live in a world where martial arts existed, and to treat martial arts as a means to gain power, was, in the eyes of Li Miao, a person from a boring, materialistic world, such a waste of heavenly resources.

What was martial arts? It was idealism, it was transcendence.

Could power allow one to stroll among the treetops, treading on blood-red maple leaves, to gaze upon the bright moon?

Could power allow one to open their robes, dance wildly in the snow, and drink scorching strong liquor?

Could power allow one to take revenge as they pleased, personally slay powerful enemies, and feel their blood boil?

Could power allow one to tread on waves, travel the world, without worrying about dying on the road?

No. But martial arts could.

Just like Yan Xiaosheng, Li Miao didn't care what his life could be exchanged for.

He simply poked a finger into this scumbag's chest, making him suffer for three days before committing suicide. That's how satisfying it was! Without martial arts, could Li Miao have done that?

He had already seen the path ahead, he just hadn't decided how to walk it yet.

Li Miao couldn't say these words to Zhu Zai; he wouldn't understand.

Just as a person born with sight would not know a blind person's longing for color, Zhu Zai could not understand the significance of martial arts to Li Miao, nor could he understand how boring power was to Li Miao.

So Li Miao nodded and said, “Understood.”

Zhu Zai suddenly turned his head, looking at Li Miao in disbelief: “What did you say?”

“I understand. How could I watch you lose power? If there’s any major assignment out of the capital, I’ll go handle it,” Li Miao said.

This sentence choked Zhu Zai, leaving him speechless for a long time.

After a while, he scrutinized Li Miao from head to toe, and asked hesitantly, “Did your cultivation go awry? Did you suffer a qi deviation?”

This amused Li Miao, who said with a wry smile, “You’ve been lecturing me for half a day, and I finally understood and decided to follow your advice, and now you ask me if I’m sick. Are you, a dignified third-rank official, messing with your subordinate?”

Zhu Zai angrily retorted, “Stop pretending to be foolish. If you were this sensible, would I have been angered by you for twenty years? What are you planning?”

“Hiss—no!”

Zhu Zai seemed to suddenly realize something, squinting his eyes at Li Miao.

“You’re not trying to fake your death and escape by taking an assignment out of the capital, planning to hide in some remote village and live your lazy life, are you?”

“How could that be?” Li Miao said seriously, “It certainly won’t be a remote village. I love to eat and play, I can’t live a hard life.”

“Get lost,” Zhu Zai cursed, “Tell me the truth!”

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Li Miao knew that his eight-hour workday was an unforgivable laziness in feudal times. This impression had long been deeply etched into Zhu Zai's mind, and without a reasonable explanation, he couldn't gloss over it.

He could only tell the truth: “My martial arts cultivation is almost complete. After a long period of stillness, I feel like moving, and I think it would be good to go out and see the world.”

Li Miao was now thirty-five years old. Since joining the Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards) at fifteen, he had remained in Yanjing without moving.

Firstly, because martial arts were interesting enough for Li Miao that he didn't feel bored after twenty years of practice.

Secondly, because feuds and killings were prevalent in this world, and the social atmosphere was much more violent than in his previous life. Li Miao was unwilling to easily venture into the Jianghu without cultivating his martial arts to a certain level. And the Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards) environment was also suitable for his golden finger to function.

Thirdly, it was Zhu Zai’s reliance on him, always keeping him in Yanjing, close at hand to be called upon.

Now that his martial arts had reached a certain level, he had few opponents in the world and was safe from harm.

Zhu Zai had taken good care of him for many years, and now needed him to do something. And he himself, after a long period of stillness, felt like moving and wanted to go out and see the Jianghu with his own eyes.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Zai reluctantly nodded: “That sounds more like something you would say.”

He turned back to his desk, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to Li Miao: “Go and handle this assignment. It will take about a year for the round trip, and if you do it well, it will be enough for me to arrange things for you.”

Li Miao lowered his head to look at the paper, on which several large characters were boldly written.

“Annihilate the Five Mountains Sword Sect.”

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