Chess Evolution

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Zhang Ling packed up the tableware and glanced at the lychee tree. Unfortunately, because Du Haifan’s heart was captivated by the blooming flowers, he would have to wait another year before tasting the fruit. He then changed into more practical clothes inside the house and headed down the mountain.

Passing halfway down the slope, Yang Shanshu, who guarded the mountain like a disciple in cultivation, saw someone coming down. For some reason, he soon forgot about the person after they left the mountain, but those still on the mountain always remembered clearly. Firmly planting his iron staff into the ground, he cupped his hands in salute: “Junior Brother, may your martial fortune flourish on your journey.”

Zhang Ling waved his hand and said, “I won’t be down the mountain long. Help me find Ye Yumi and tell him to wait here for me.”

Yang Shanshu acknowledged the order, and Zhang Ling quickened his pace, hurrying down the mountain. He first inquired at every shop in Jinyu City but found no sign of gunpowder. It seemed this world had yet to develop such a thing, confirming that the pinnacle of Mo family’s mechanical arts still belonged entirely to the realm of cold weapons. It was truly hard to imagine the Mo family’s original foundation. Zhang Ling had no intention of expanding on this invention—partly because he did not wish to become the spark of war, to become the eternal villain in history books, and partly because his true aim was simply to ascend to the peak of martial arts, to travel through the world’s splendid mountains and rivers, and to live a life of personal virtue.

With nothing ready-made, Zhang Ling had to rely on his memory to create a piece of explosive himself. Following the schematic, he gathered materials from various shops. Only after noon did he complete the collection and, at the foot of the mountain, assembled the device alone before calling someone up.

At the halfway point, Yang Shanshu indeed only remembered “family” but forgot “monks”—he actually did remember to fetch Ye Yumi.

Yang Shanshu stood tall on the mountain, while Ye Yumi, bored out of his wits, squatted on the ground, playing with two sticks as if they were fighting.

Seeing someone descend, Yang Shanshu shouted loudly, “Hey! State your name!”

Zhang Ling did not want to waste words with him. He showed him the token and then grabbed Ye Yumi, heading back.

Ye Yumi was bewildered—the other party didn’t say a word. When asking someone to help, shouldn’t they first explain clearly?

Zhang Ling roughly dragged Ye Yumi to a deserted corner of the Prime Minister’s mansion and explained the plan: “I’m going to throw this thing into the courtyard. There will be a loud explosion—listen carefully and memorize the layout of the mansion, then return to the academy and draw the map. Understand?”

Ye Yumi nodded but raised a reasonable objection: “I won’t ask why you want the map of the Prime Minister’s mansion, but honestly, I can’t draw maps.”

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Zhang Ling, already chilled to the bone without even entering the Ice Lake, scolded, “With such good hearing, and you can’t even draw a map? You really are a spoiled heir.”

Ye Yumi waved his hand helplessly. “I never knew it could be used this way. I only practiced ‘wind listening’ for combat.”

Zhang Ling calmed himself and patiently explained bit by bit. First, he described the city’s feng shui layout, identifying a path to the master bedroom and study. He also sketched out the locations of the main hall and kitchen. Since the Prime Minister was hosting a banquet that day, many would come and go from the kitchen. As for the mansion’s experts, Zhang Ling had no way of knowing exactly where they lived or where they might be lying in wait. Of course, Zhang Ling only told Ye Yumi about drawing the map; he dared not involve anyone else in such a grave matter. The more people who knew, the greater the risk of exposure.

Zhang Ling took a deep breath and asked, “Do you understand?”

Ye Yumi was still a little confused but nodded slightly. “Mostly got it.”

Zhang Ling told him to prepare, then lit a fire striker and threw it into the mansion. That day, the first fiery explosion bloomed within the Prime Minister’s residence.

The loud bang stirred the entire city into chaos. While the crowd searched for the culprit, the two had already slipped away like blossoming peach trees in spring.

As they ran, Ye Yumi couldn’t help but laugh excitedly, “Zhang Ling, what exactly did you make? The sound was huge! It even exploded when you threw it in. It must be powerful. If used on the battlefield, it would wreak havoc. Even for wandering the martial world, it’s a handy tool to have. Name your price, I’ll buy it for the Ye family.”

Zhang Ling gave him a cold stare and warned, “I won’t sell this to anyone. Don’t tell anyone about this today, and don’t mention that I made it. Otherwise, your Ye family will be close to annihilation.”

Ye Yumi quickly kept silent and nodded in agreement.

On Mount Kongyao, Zhang Ling watched Ye Yumi pick up his brush to sketch a rough map of the mansion. His face twisted with each stroke. Before he could finish, Zhang Ling snatched the paper away and scolded, “What kind of rubbish is this? It looks like a witch’s scrawl. Do you even understand it yourself?”

Ye Yumi spread his hands with a smile: “I don’t understand, you know that! I’m not good at drawing; I only did it because you told me to. How can you blame me for this?”

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Zhang Ling waved him off, covering his face. Ye Yumi retorted, “Is it really okay for you to summon me whenever you please and dismiss me just as easily? I am still a young master of the Ye family, so why do I feel like your servant?”

Zhang Ling looked up and said sternly, “Then what do you want?”

Ye Yumi smiled, “Nothing much. Just remember to call me next time you need something like this. Preferably if there’s a fight involved. After all, I’m going to make my way in the martial world. Without some capital, I can’t even brag that I’m a disciple of the academy.”

Zhang Ling nodded, waved him away again, and sat alone, lost in thought until sunset. Gazing towards the distant horizon, his mood slowly calmed. He then decided to visit the library, which reminded him of a certain all-knowing fellow.

When Zhang Ling arrived at the library and ascended to the fifth floor, he saw two young men sitting cross-legged by the window, engrossed in a game of Go, radiating scholarly elegance.

One was Ren Pingsheng, the only scholar of this generation; the other was Jiang Huaiyi, mentioned by Baili Huan’an upon arriving at the mountain. Jiang Huaiyi was also the only Go grandmaster in Chen Kingdom above the tenth dan, known as “Chess Master.” He treated Go as his life, the board as the world, and calculated countless moves ahead.

Last year, a Go saint from Jin Kingdom came to challenge him. They played twenty-four games, all ending in draws. In the twenty-fifth game, Jiang Huaiyi narrowly won by half a point. The “half point” was because Jiang Huaiyi had the first move, an advantage. They took turns deciding the first move by rock-paper-scissors, but Jiang Huaiyi punched the saint’s face and claimed the black stones. This incident gave rise to the saying, “The academy has scholars but no gentlemen,” implying that while the academy had learned men, they lacked civility. No one expected the broad-browed, handsome Chess Master to resort to such underhanded tactics.

Jiang Huaiyi sat upright, his hair tied with a green crown, his face sharp and majestic. He played leisurely, exuding the demeanor of a grandmaster. In contrast, Ren Pingsheng often bent over, frowning deeply, displaying a rebellious spirit despite his refined scholar’s appearance.

Ren Pingsheng pondered for a long time, then placed three fingers on the board. If the literary men of the world saw this, they would surely scorn him harshly.

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