Just as Marshal Hong Lin-ying was lost in thought, he suddenly noticed that the tent door below the high platform had been thrown open. Squinting to get a better look, he saw that it wasn't the same person who had entered earlier—but rather, Ji Wenhe had emerged first. After Ji Wenhe stepped out, another figure slowly followed in his wake.
"Hmm? What is this?" Hong Lin-ying was momentarily taken aback. He sat up straighter, his eyes widening briefly before relaxing again as his expression returned to calm.
Meanwhile, on the ground below the stage, the military strategist (referred to here as Strategist Ji) turned his head and looked up toward the high platform. In a distant but respectful gesture, he bowed slightly and announced aloud with the flourish of his wide, flowing sleeves, "It appears Marshal Hong is here as well—I bring my respectful greetings!"
Slowly rising to his feet, Hong Lin-ying replied in a sonorous tone, "Ah, I'm just here to check on the recruitment status of the Imperial Guard. Should today's efforts fill the ranks, I'll have my generals organize the new soldiers' training soon afterward. Strategist, are you about to return to your quarters? Have you been successful this day?"
Upon hearing this, Strategist Ji glanced briefly at Hong Lin-ying—a subtle, almost imperceptible flash of mockery playing at the corner of his eyes. Then, with a slight smile, he pointed behind him toward Li Yan and said, "The Marshal certainly has an eye for talent. At long last, you've finally shown yourself—truly, it wasn't an easy wait." He shook his head lightly.
"Ah, so you've found the one you were seeking? Congratulations, Strategist Ji. You really have sifted through the sands. How does this one compare with the last disciple you recruited?" came Hong Lin-ying's tone of genuine delight.
At these words, Strategist Ji's normally pale, bluish complexion darkened for a moment. He did not wish for news of his previous disciple to be revealed too quickly; if many knew, Li Yan might harbor doubts about whether he was willing to undergo cultivation—a choice that, ultimately, no one can force. With his hands clasped behind him, he replied, "This young man is well-read and his aptitude is exactly what I look for. Fate, it seems, has destined him for greatness—he far surpasses my previous candidate by a considerable margin. Thank you, Wenhe."
Without further pause or waiting for Hong Lin-ying's response, the strategist turned and addressed Li Yan directly, "Li Yan, now come forward and pay your respects to the Marshal."
Since leaving the tent, Li Yan had been caught in a reverie of amazement. The surreal events of the day—enlisting in the army, being accepted as a disciple under the illustrious Strategist Ji, and receiving a monthly stipend far beyond his wildest imaginings—had left him still dazed. His thoughts raced with dreams of finally returning home to honor his parents and reuniting the family. He imagined buying a house in the city, bringing his parents and elder brother together for a blissful reunion; he even pictured soon sharing the news with Uncle Guoxin and the joy it would bring his siblings. In that instant, his mind swirled with a tumult of joy and worry, a confusing cocktail of hope and trepidation.
Lost in these extravagant daydreams, he was abruptly snapped back to reality by a sharp call at his ear. Glancing up, he saw his teacher fixing him with a steady gaze. For a moment, he was dumbfounded—he had overheard the conversation between Marshal Hong and the strategist, but his own thoughts had been so preoccupied with his newfound fortune that he had tuned out most of their words. Now, noticing his teacher's expectant look, he scrabbled to recall that they had mentioned the Marshal and something about the previous recruit—details that now hurriedly resurfaced in his mind.
"Li Yan, why aren't you hurrying to pay your respects to the Marshal?" a voice barked again, tinged with disapproval. The strategist noticed that although he had ordered Li Yan forward, the young man still stood rooted to the spot—as though lost in his own inner musings. Secretly, the strategist mused, "Has that fellow Hong Lin-ying's comment struck a nerve? How infuriating his intent can be. I'll have to help him untangle his thoughts later. Truly, Hong Lin-ying can be exasperating." A flash of irritation crossed his features, and he called out sharply once more.
Feeling his teacher's displeasure, Li Yan hastened, moving several quick steps to approach his teacher. When he reached the platform, he knelt and respectfully said, "I humbly present my respects to Marshal Hong. Please forgive any earlier discourtesy—I beg you, Marshal, do not hesitate to chastise me if necessary." In just a few short hours, Li Yan had already met the two highest-ranking officials in the region—a rare honor that no ordinary villager ever experienced—and he immediately performed all the ceremonial rites he knew.
Marshal Hong, his gaze fixed for a moment on the kneeling Li Yan, silently thought, "This youth… why does he seem so dazed?" He did not know that Li Yan's apparent lack of composure was nothing but the overwhelming joy and astonishment that had overtaken him from the cascade of fortunate events. Seeing this, the Marshal waved his hand and said, "Rise. And tell me your name."
Obediently, Li Yan stood and in a respectful tone answered, "My name is Li Yan, and I come from the Li family village of Da Qing Shan."
"Ah, so your home is not very far from here. We, the strategists, have searched high and low—and discovered that the one was right under our noses. How ironic and delightful!" Marshal Hong said with a gentle smile. He scrutinized the youth: Li Yan's dark complexion, unremarkable features, and lean build made him appear quite ordinary. It was nearly impossible to fathom what specific criteria the strategist used when selecting disciples. Suddenly, with a deft tiptoe on the bluestone floor, Marshal Hong seemed to almost defy gravity—he leaped into the air effortlessly.
At that same moment, Li Yan, still lost in thought about Marshal Hong's earlier words, suddenly felt a strong gust of wind slam against him. He looked up in alarm—his left wrist had been gripped firmly. A hot surge of energy flooded into his wrist's meridians and raced up his arm, coursing swiftly through his body. He was startled into instinct: he tried to pull his arm away, but it felt rigid, as if locked in an iron vice. His face contorted in shock as he struggled, yet just when he summoned enough strength to free himself, he realized that the person who had released him was none other than Marshal Hong himself. Somehow, by means unbeknownst to him, the Marshal had traversed the distance from the high platform—approximately ten or more meters—and now stood directly before him, having momentarily clutched onto Li Yan's wrist.
Li Yan looked from Marshal Hong to his teacher, his heart pounding in uncertainty over what had just transpired.
That entire episode had been over in just a few heartbeats. Throughout it all, the strategist had quietly remained a short distance behind Li Yan, his face as calm and unreadable as ever—as if he had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Now, Marshal Hong, retracting his right hand and laughing raucously, bowed to the strategist. "Strategist, please do not take offense. I was merely curious. You have selected disciples over many years—only two by your standards. I was eager to know what sort of exceptional constitution could merit such luck. Please, do not let my impulsiveness trouble you."
The strategist's face bore a slight, ambiguous smile as he replied, "Perhaps the Marshal has discerned what distinguishes this unworthy disciple?"
Marshal Hong's expression grew serious. After a brief moment of contemplation, he said, "Your sect's mysterious ways remain beyond my grasp. I must confess, in my observation, this youth's meridians are not markedly superior to those of many other soldiers—in fact, they might be even less broad in some respects. His physique is, at best, above average—but hardly exceptional. This is purely my view. Yet if you have chosen him, there must be something uniquely special about him; I simply cannot pinpoint it."
The strategist offered a slight smile and said, "The Marshal speaks truly. Our sect's internal methods demand not only broad meridians but also that one possesses certain channels that set him apart from others. Only then can our teachings reach their full potential. I'm afraid this matter involves too many of our sacred doctrines for me to reveal further."
Marshal Hong, satisfied for the moment, ceased further inquiry and then asked, "Strategist, how will you arrange matters from this point on?"
Bowing slightly to Marshal Hong, the strategist replied, "This unworthy disciple will accompany me to my quarters to begin his training. You know well that my own health is failing—I must choose a successor without delay. For the most part, he will study under my supervision; occasionally, he will help with minor military duties to both hone his skills and relax his mind. As for his stipend, his monthly pay will be drawn from my own allowance at the rate of a small-unit captain."
After a moment's thought, Marshal Hong said, "That will not do. Since your disciple will be assisting with military matters, he must have proper status. I hereby grant him the position of Vice Ensign of the Anti-Insult Unit (vice general), with his stipend paid directly from the military's funds. I will have his badge delivered to your quarters, and furthermore, the enlistment bonus funds will be sent to his family in the village, duly registered." Not one to be miserly, Marshal Hong made sure that even the bonus would be fully disbursed.
The strategist, upon hearing this, did not hesitate: "Then as the Marshal commands. Li Yan, now go forward and pay your respects to the Marshal."
Since emerging from the tent, Li Yan had listened intently to their conversation, his initial excitement gradually settling into a quiet understanding. From the words of these two prominent figures, he realized that becoming a disciple of the strategist was no small matter. His teacher had been searching through the military ranks for years; out of many thousands, only two candidates—himself included—had been chosen. It was clear that Marshal Hong had been curious enough to test them personally earlier.
When Li Yan heard of the official rank bestowed upon him, he stood there bewildered. He did not know what the title "Vice Ensign of the Anti-Insult Unit" entailed, nor what responsibilities it carried. Yet the promise that the enlistment bonus funds would soon be sent to his parents in the village was crystal clear—and it filled him with joy. Had he known that in just half a day he had been promoted to a rank equivalent to "Cong Ba Pin Xia" (a mid-level officer), it might have felt as if a magnificent plume of auspicious smoke had arisen from his ancestral tomb. After all, it took countless battles for ordinary soldiers to climb through the ranks—even to reach the levels of "Zheng Jiu Pin" or "Zheng Jiu Shang." And here, a couple of great men's words had elevated him almost miraculously. Yet, even if he understood that he now held the honor of such a rank, what truly mattered to him was the tangible reward—the money that could transform his family's life.
Once Li Yan had finished his respectful obeisance, the strategist bowed slightly to Marshal Hong and said, "If the Marshal has no further instructions, I shall take my leave."
Marshal Hong laughed heartily and replied, "Strategist, do as you please. It seems your mind is elsewhere today. Ha ha—I must now inspect the recruitment of the Imperial Guard and oversee the training arrangements for the new soldiers. I will not accompany you any further."
And so, amid the admiring, sometimes envious glances of the surrounding soldiers, the strategist turned and strode toward the main gate of the training ground, with Li Yan hurrying to follow.
Watching the receding figures of Strategist Ji and Li Yan, Marshal Hong remained standing outside the tent. He stroked his chin and fiddled with his short beard for a long moment before, in a low voice meant only for himself, he murmured, "Is there really something exceptional about this youth's constitution?"
This passage weaves together a moment of high ceremony and subtle power plays among mighty military figures. Li Yan, a humble youth from a mountain village, finds himself suddenly elevated by the combined influence of the Marshal and his revered strategist. While the Marshal's probing questions hint at reservations about Li Yan's innate qualities, the strategist defends his choice with cryptic words concerning secret doctrines and uniquely cultivated meridians. Overwhelmed by both the honor and the weight of his fate, Li Yan's inner turmoil is palpable even as he performs his ceremonial obeisance, setting the stage for what promises to be a transformative—and uncertain—journey.