When the seven Southeast Asian students first entered the Imperial Academy, they truly caused quite a stir.

Everyone’s first impression was: dark, truly dark—a bunch of dark-skinned boys.

Then people began to sigh: these guys are wealthy, dressed so colorfully and ostentatiously.

After some time passed, everyone had another sigh: these guys are incredibly good at fighting.

After the seven Southeast Asian students became familiar with everyone and learned of these evaluations and sighs, they all felt quite wronged.

Where were they dark? They had healthy wheat-colored, honey-colored, and bronze-colored skin, didn’t they? If anyone was to blame, it could only be that this place’s aesthetic concepts were truly too different from theirs. Praising dignified men, they would constantly say things like “quiet as a virgin” or “gentle as a good woman”—hearing such words was indescribably strange.

Their clothes—yes, perhaps the colors were a bit brighter, the fabric a bit finer. Among all the white robes, blue shirts, and azure garments, they were indeed somewhat conspicuous. But that was because their families thought that dressing more grandly and beautifully would show the greatest respect and gratitude to the Imperial Academy.

As for being able to fight, that was even more unavoidable. Southeast Asia had many indigenous peoples, and pirates ran rampant. Those who couldn’t fight had long been eliminated—how could they have had the good fortune to enter the Imperial Academy to study?

Besides, there were plenty of people in the Imperial Academy who could fight, such as those sons of tribal chieftains and barbarian kings. Why did they specifically target the seven of them? Of course, this might be because they were too united—whenever they fought, it was always group combat, never leaving anyone behind, which seemed to attract quite a bit of attention…

However, the enrollment of another Southeast Asian student two months later overturned everyone’s previous impressions of Southeast Asian students, to the extent that everyone felt something was off.

Coming from Luzon and being seventeen years old, Chu Bitian was clean, refreshing, and refined. He often wore very ordinary white cloth robes, obediently following various teachers every day to listen to their teachings, never participating in any brawling activities within the Imperial Academy.

Could there be such an anomaly that “emerged from mud without being stained”?

Everyone soon learned that this was completely not the case.

Chu Bitian dressed simply because his family was too wealthy. As the saying goes, “When the spirit possesses wealth and status, one begins to treat gold lightly.” With money to his family’s degree, he indeed had the confidence to wear anything—the simpler he dressed, the more he could display his refinement.

As for why he wasn’t dark, the common explanation was that precisely because his family was too wealthy, he had never dirtied his hands with spring water since childhood, and his family constantly watched him study, so he simply had no opportunity to get sun exposure. Also, precisely because he studied constantly, he had no opportunity to learn fighting—naturally, a noble family like the Chu family didn’t need their young master to go out and fight with people.

Since Chu Bitian was so wealthy and had such a gentle temperament, the expenses for going out to eat, drink, and have fun during the ten-day rest periods naturally fell on his shoulders. Initially, only the seven Southeast Asian students brought him along as their wallet based on hometown fellowship. Gradually, all twenty-four students of the Xuan Division came along with smiling faces. If not for Teacher Cheng, who had always favored this well-behaved student, seeing that things had gone too far and coming out to scold them, this group would likely have grown even larger.

Chu Bitian followed a large group of classmates parading through the streets. Everyone was very kind and enthusiastic toward him. Moved by this, he paid out money with such joy…

However, having too much money sometimes wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

When spring river waters warmed and pufferfish came to market, Chu Bitian’s group and a group of Yunnan-Guizhou tribal chieftain sons from the Zhou Division both set their sights on the same restaurant famous for pufferfish—Linjiang Pavilion.

The students from the Xuan Division had long heard of Linjiang Pavilion’s great reputation, but unfortunately, their purses were light and they couldn’t afford it. Now with a wealthy little classmate, how could they not seize this opportunity to make good use of it?

Those Yunnan-Guizhou tribal chieftain sons, who were fully expecting that Linjiang Pavilion’s lakeside second floor would once again be theirs to enjoy as usual, were surprised to discover when they leisurely came upstairs that feng shui had already shifted. So one side said first come, first served, while the other side said they had an early verbal agreement with the owner. One side said they had already paid a deposit and verbal contracts didn’t count, while the other side said a gentleman’s word was his bond…

Looking at these Imperial Academy students with their swords drawn and eyeing each other like tigers, the restaurant owner’s face darkened.

This was one of the famous three scourges of Yingtian Prefecture: the Imperial Guard, Jiangwu Hall, and the Imperial Academy.

The Imperial Guard was manageable—everyone kept their distance with respect and fear, which brought peace. Jiangwu Hall had strict discipline; though the students were not to be trifled with, they didn’t dare easily cause trouble outside. Only these Imperial Academy students, with their abundant energy, sharp tongues, and ambiguous status, were truly a great trouble…

Now, in this situation, they were going to fight…

As he wished, good premonitions don’t come true, but bad ones do. Who knows which side struck first, but in any case, they started fighting. Bowls and chopsticks flew throughout the building. Quick-footed waiters and several customers streaked downstairs. The owner, being a bit older and clumsier, but fortunately still having good eyesight, seeing the situation turn bad, quickly dove under the table closest to the wall. Trembling with fear and heart pounding, he peered outward while calculating in his mind how much he would probably lose this time—oh no, they’d started throwing chairs too.

When the owner’s face began to twitch, a clean young man’s smiling face suddenly appeared before him, frightening him so much that he nearly hit his head.

Chu Bitian sat beside the table, bent down with a beaming smile, and said to the owner under the table: “Don’t worry, I’ll compensate for anything that gets broken. Do you want to come out and watch? You definitely can’t see clearly from down there.”

The owner’s face was about to light up upon hearing the first sentence, but the light froze upon hearing the second sentence.

This young master who didn’t know worldly sorrows seemed to be watching the fight with great enjoyment. Could such a person’s words be trusted?

Chu Bitian appeared to be obediently hiding in the corner, not wanting to get involved in this spectacular group brawl scene at all. If Teacher Cheng were here, he would approve. The sage had said that a son of a thousand gold pieces should not stand beneath a collapsing wall—this child was truly a good student of the sage.

Naturally, such good students and obedient children would have some who liked them and some who found them irritating, viewing them unfavorably, no matter how they looked.

That group of Yunnan-Guizhou tribal chieftain sons had always been led by Duan Siming. Duan Siming was a descendant of the former Dali royal Duan family. He had excellent character, was skilled in both civil and military arts, and came from a good family background, so he naturally had some pride and arrogance. Since entering the Imperial Academy, he had always been the pride that gave all the teachers terrible headaches.

Unfortunately, along came Chu Bitian.

Duan Siming greatly despised Chu Bitian’s current behavior—actually hiding behind the crowd to watch the fight, and it was clear that their side was already unable to hold up. Speaking of the Xuan Division group, only the seven Southeast Asian students were fighting veterans, while Duan Siming’s people had similarly fought from childhood to adulthood. In terms of ruthlessness, they were evenly matched, plus they had the advantage in numbers—having three or four more capable fighters—so the situation was already trending toward a one-sided rout.

One Southeast Asian student, surrounded by two attackers, took several punches plus a flying kick. He dramatically yelled as he crashed toward Duan Siming, planning that even if he couldn’t knock down this cold fellow, he’d at least give him a black eye and swollen face.

Duan Siming was contemptuously sizing up Chu Bitian in the corner when suddenly someone crashed toward him. He impatiently dodged to the side, reached out with his right hand, grabbed the ill-intentioned Southeast Asian student’s right arm, applied force to twist it behind his back, and flew up with a kick to send him out again.

However, the force of Duan Siming’s kick was incomparable to the previous one. That Southeast Asian student involuntarily flew toward the building’s window. This time, his yelling was genuine as he flailed in the air. Duan Siming was also startled—if he fell and suffered serious injury or even death, the trouble would be enormous. How had he become so distracted just now? How had he struck, oh, kicked with such reckless force?

Duan Siming regretfully jumped over a table, thinking that no matter what, he had to try to save him, treating a dead horse as if it were alive.

But someone reached the window faster than him, barely catching that Southeast Asian student’s left ankle, pulling him back, supporting his waist, and setting him safely on the ground.

That Southeast Asian student, his soul having just settled, looked up to see clearly that his rescuer was Chu Bitian. In this shock, he let out another loud yell.

Duan Siming stopped where he was, coldly sizing up Chu Bitian, despising him even more than before.

If this kid had hidden behind because he couldn’t fight, that would be understandable. Now it seemed he had excellent skills but was unwilling to come out and fight—this was even more detestable.

Chu Bitian now realized what he had just done. His expression couldn’t help but be somewhat embarrassed and panicked as he looked left and right, his dark eyes rolling as he sought a way to gracefully exit the situation. But Duan Siming had already sternly shouted: “Everyone stop!”

When Duan Siming put on airs, he was quite imposing. So not only did the group of people who were fighting freeze, but even Chu Bitian stood there motionless.

Duan Siming’s extended finger nearly touched Chu Bitian’s nose as he said word by word: “You—come out and fight me. If you win, I’ll immediately give this place to you. If you lose, your group will immediately get out!”

Except for the Southeast Asian student who had just been rescued by Chu Bitian, everyone else was dumbfounded.

Boss Duan wanted to have a one-on-one fight with Chu Bitian?

What made them even more dumbfounded was that Chu Bitian looked Duan Siming up and down for a while, then actually showed a very happy smile on his face and earnestly nodded: “Good.”

Duan Siming slowly sank into stance and took position, still as a deep pool, steady as a mountain, clearly letting Chu Bitian strike first. Chu Bitian was also quite impolite, leaping forward with a pounce. This person looked refined and scholarly, but when he fought, he was like a wild and fierce monkey. His first move went straight for Duan Siming’s face—this kind of scratching fighting style immediately made Duan Siming’s group start booing. Duan Siming blocked with his left arm while his right fist struck toward Chu Bitian’s chest. Chu Bitian changed moves incredibly quickly, retracting his left hand to chop at Duan Siming’s right wrist. Duan Siming smoothly flipped his wrist to deflect his left palm while his right fist continued straight toward his chest. Chu Bitian inhaled slightly, his chest sinking inward. Duan Siming’s punch missed by mere inches, stopping at his shirt front, unable to advance further.

The two looked at each other, both somewhat surprised. Duan Siming felt that his right wrist, struck by Chu Bitian’s chop, actually hurt with a burning sensation—how could this kid’s palm strike be so vicious? Chu Bitian was amazed that his chop, using five parts of his strength, seemed not to affect Duan Siming. Truly rare—a rare good opponent. He mustn’t let himself scare him away again…

Chu Bitian leaped back several steps, stared at Duan Siming for a while, then showed that very happy smile on his face again, nodded, and charged forward again. This time it wasn’t monkey-style techniques but sweeping chain kicks targeting the lower body, kicking as fast as a gale. Duan Siming’s legs were hit several times in succession, his leg bones aching. He angrily jumped onto a table, reached back to draw the short knife from his boot, and pointed it at Chu Bitian: “I didn’t want to use a blade, but it looks like you’re an opponent. Are you game?”

Chu Bitian stared at the knife in his hand: “Is that knife made of Burmese steel? If I win, would you be willing to let me have that knife?”

Duan Siming coldly laughed: “Wait until you’ve beaten me to talk about that—where’s your weapon?”

Chu Bitian drew out a golden chain wrapped around his waist from inside his white robe. The entire upstairs gasped. He was indeed a wealthy person—his weapon was an exquisite chain made of gold, with the clasps inlaid with two azure blue gems.

Chu Bitian tilted his head with a smile: “If I lose, I’ll also give you my weapon.”

Before he finished speaking, the golden chain whistled out. Duan Siming’s Burmese knife slashed down, the golden chain coiled around the blade. Duan Siming immediately pulled back his knife. If it had been an ordinary iron chain, being dragged by the blade edge would have caused it to break inch by inch. But gold was such a resilient material that after a clattering sound, it returned completely intact.

While fighting, Chu Bitian loudly praised how truly excellent Duan Siming’s blade techniques were, excited until his cheeks flushed red. The blade was sharp, though it only lightly scratched, it had already left several bloody marks on his body. Duan Siming wasn’t having an easy time either—wherever the golden chain struck, his bones felt ready to crack.

The students who came together stood on both sides, clenching their fists and shouting encouragement, stomping until the floorboards shook like thunder.

Until someone noticed an Imperial Guard centurion who had appeared at the stairway entrance at some unknown time.

Though those students didn’t recognize this person, they recognized his clothes. This tiger skin uniform was truly feared by all who saw it in Yingtian City. The invisible, intimidating force emanating from that young centurion made them involuntarily feel chills in their hearts. They gradually quieted down, not daring to make another sound.

Chu Bitian and Duan Siming suddenly felt something was wrong. Why had the upstairs become so quiet, with only the sound of the Burmese knife clashing with the golden chain?

Looking sideways, both men simultaneously jumped up, hurriedly separated, and put away their weapons.

Meng Jianqing stood by the stairway entrance, arms folded across his chest, quietly watching them.

Because the group fight was discovered by the Imperial Guard, both Chu Bitian and Duan Siming’s groups were called to the Reflection Hall when they returned. The punishment administrator, Teacher Zhu, was reportedly a descendant of Zhu Xi, famous for his iron-faced impartiality. He summoned the Reflection Hall servants and ordered that each of these troublemaking students receive ten heavy paddle strikes, with the ringleaders, Chu Bitian and Duan Siming, each receiving twenty paddle strikes.

Chu Bitian had always been a good student. Having entered the Imperial Academy for only a short time, no one had ever thought to tell him that the Imperial Academy had this paddle punishment rule. As soon as this punishment was announced, his face turned pale as he turned to ask Duan Siming, kneeling beside him, “Why do we have to be paddled? This is too, too barbaric. We’re academy students—punishment doesn’t extend to gentlemen—”

Duan Siming snorted through his nose: “Academy students? Even prime ministers get their buttocks paddled just the same. Haven’t you seen officials being dragged out for paddle punishment in court every day? What era do you think those rules you remember are from?”

Chu Bitian fell silent with a mournful expression.

This was too humiliating. Who made such stinking rules… If his family knew he was getting paddled here, would they regret sending him to the Imperial Academy to study, or would they be happy that someone could finally discipline him without showing favoritism?

The sound of paddles rose and fell continuously in the Reflection Hall, while students passing by outside trembled inwardly. It was said that half a year ago, an academy student who received twenty paddle strikes was crippled. Hopefully no one would be so unlucky today…

Chu Bitian and Duan Siming’s bodies could endure it, but their faces truly couldn’t. Especially when they came out after receiving punishment and saw Lei Zhong, the guard under Meng Jianqing—their faces became even more unsustainable.

Lei Zhong wore civilian clothes, claiming to be a servant of the Chu family relatives, bringing medicine for Young Master Chu’s injuries, and also bringing some for Young Master Chu’s classmates who had been beaten.

The two men took shelter in Duan Siming’s nearby room, helping each other apply medicine and lying face down on pillows to rest. The dining hall bell had rung, and everyone else had gone to eat, promising to bring food back for them.

There was no one else in the room.

The two looked at each other, both knowing what the other wanted to say and ask. Chu Bitian spoke first: “Alright, let’s be frank. I’m the junior martial brother of Yun Yanjiao, trained by the same master. My father and master asked Senior Sister Yun to supervise me well, then Senior Sister Yun entrusted me to—”

He looked toward the window, ultimately not continuing, muttering in his heart about not knowing how many eyes and ears that person had grown, even if he secretly slept in, somehow, he would know.

This time, Duan Siming belatedly understood why Chu Bitian, who in his bones loved fighting and combat so much, had to behave so obediently in the Imperial Academy. It turned out there was a formidable figure he couldn’t provoke, watching him, so he didn’t dare show his true nature. However, speaking of it, Meng Jianqing managing him so strictly also made sense—this kid was too capable of fighting, and lacking experience, he inevitably didn’t know when to hold back. The aftermath would be too troublesome.

From this day forward, the privately circulated list of students not to provoke in the Imperial Academy added a new name: the good student Chu Bitian. The looks directed at him unconsciously contained much more awe and respect.

Chu Bitian had not yet recovered from the shock of being paddled and completely failed to notice his classmates’ newfound respect. Immediately afterward came another shock: the Crown Prince had died of illness.

Even Chu Bitian, who wholeheartedly wanted to be a good student and pay no attention to affairs outside his window, clearly knew that with the Crown Prince’s death, the situation in the Ming Dynasty would likely undergo great changes.

What he didn’t expect was that the next event would shock him even more.

The Hongwu Emperor issued an edict that all concubines without sons in the Crown Prince’s residence should be buried alive with him.

Chu Bitian was truly thunderstruck. Burial sacrifice… hadn’t such barbaric and cruel customs long been abolished in the Central Plains? In Confucius’s time, didn’t he say that even using human figurines for burial sacrifice was an unforgivable crime?

In barbarous lands, some tribes preserving such customs wasn’t strange. The Mongols, having established their state only recently with incomplete ritual systems, preserving such customs wasn’t strange.

But why would the Ming Dynasty also do this? Could it be influenced by the Mongols?

And the corporal punishment imposed on civil and military officials, including these academy students, wasn’t this also a Mongol custom?

On the day of the Crown Prince’s burial, the Imperial Academy was also among the funeral procession. Looking at paper money flying throughout the sky, Chu Bitian only felt such bewilderment in his heart.

This was no longer the elegant, white deer-like Central Plains world that his ancestors had yearned for. That world, surrounded by packs of wolves, was gone forever. The current Central Plains, to fight the wolf packs, was itself almost becoming a wild wolf, with blood-red eyes, baring snow-white wolf fangs, roaring as it surveyed its surroundings, ready at any moment to tear all enemies to shreds.

Just like the Chu family, which had fled to Southeast Asia, had also changed from a scholarly family to today’s ambitious warlord appearance.

Chu Bitian couldn’t help but look down at his own hands. If he had been born in that era, these hands would only have held brush and ink. But now…

They all had to change. However, in such dramatic transformation, the Chu family felt such loss. If they knew that even returning to the Central Plains couldn’t restore their dream homeland, they would probably feel even more lost.

**Postscript**

1. In the Imperial Academy of the Hongwu reign, official students comprised over eighty percent, among them many sons of tribal chieftains and barbarian kings. The Hongwu reign, or rather the entire Ming Dynasty’s domestic ethnic policy, was primarily based on gentle assimilation, which is why throughout the Ming Dynasty, there were basically no serious ethnic problems.

2. As for the customs of burial sacrifice and court caning, they are generally believed to be influenced by the Mongols. Chen Yinke once said that whenever Central Plains civilization became overly mature to the point of decline, the barbarian blood from beyond the Great Wall would come howling, causing Central Plains civilization to mutate and be reborn (approximately this meaning). Perhaps it was precisely due to Mongol influence that the Ming Dynasty, compared to the Song Dynasty with its gentle scholars, was more masculine and more barbaric. They were better at warfare than the Song people, but Ming politics also had more bloodshed than the Song, such as court caning and burial sacrifice. The custom of burial sacrifice was later abolished by Emperor Yingzong’s testamentary edict. Perhaps this was because Yingzong’s experience as a prisoner under the Mongols after the Tumu Crisis gave him a respect for life that his ancestors lacked. However, court caning was preserved throughout.