CHAPTER 28

THE GENERAL'S DAUGHTER

Mark strolled through the lush garden of General Liao Cheng’s manor, his every step shadowed by ten armored guards armed with swords and axes. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself, knowing Liao Cheng had stacked the deck. Anything less, and Mark could have easily slipped away. The thought of escaping had crossed his mind more than once, but he knew better. Without his weapons or armor and dressed in nothing but a flowing white gown, the odds were far from in his favor.

The sweet scent of flowers filled the air, mingling with the cheerful melody of birds chirping from the trees. The peach blossoms danced in the breeze, their petals swirling like a delicate pink snowfall. Mark’s gaze followed the path to the pond at the center of the garden, where lily pads floated lazily on the water’s surface.

As he neared, a soft, sorrowful tune reached his ears. The music came from a zither being played in one of the wooden pavilions nearby. Its haunting beauty tugged at him, soothing yet steeped in melancholy. It seemed to carry the emotions of someone pouring their heart into every note.

“Who’s playing that?” Mark asked one of the guards, Shi Xinyi.

“Lady Guanyu, the General’s daughter,” Shi Xinyi replied with a hint of reverence.

Curiosity sparked, Mark quickened his pace, eager to see the musician behind such captivating music. The guards, caught off guard by his sudden movement, scrambled to keep up. “Hey, stop!” Shi Xinyi called after him, but Mark didn’t slow down until he reached the pavilion.

“It’s alright,” a gentle voice said from within. “The foreigner doesn’t bother me.”

Mark turned to see the source of the voice and was momentarily struck speechless. Lady Guanyu was breathtaking, unlike anyone he’d seen in his travels. Her brunette hair cascaded like silk, framing her hazel eyes that seemed to hold an ocean of unspoken thoughts. Her small nose and rosy cheeks gave her an innocent charm, while her deep red lips and snow-pale skin made her look like she had stepped out of a painting or been sculpted from marble.

Even her perfume, a delicate rose scent, added to the aura of elegance and allure that surrounded her.

“Foreigner,” Guanyu said, her voice smooth and melodic. “My father has spoken much about you—how you’re a master swordsman and a fearless warrior.”

“I know my way around a blade,” Mark replied, his tone flat and detached.

Her fingers never faltered on the zither, though the melody shifted, growing sharper, more intense. “I’ve always wanted to learn swordsmanship,” she admitted. “But my father forbids it. He says it’s not fitting for a lady of the Imperial Court. Still, it’s something I truly want.” She paused, letting the frustration in her music say what her voice wouldn’t. “Could you teach me?”

Mark’s gaze dropped to his empty hands. “I serve your father, my Lady, and I’m not allowed to carry weapons. Even if I wanted to…”

“My Lady!” Shi Xinyi interrupted sharply. “General Liao has made it clear. You are not to learn swordsmanship, and the foreigner is strictly forbidden from handling his weapons. It is not possible, and I will not allow it.”

Guanyu sighed, the tune she played softening but losing none of its sadness. “I understand,” she said. Her voice was composed, but the notes pouring from her zither carried the frustration and longing she tried to conceal.

“Let’s get you back to your quarters,” Shi Xinyi said to Mark.

Mark nodded silently, following them back to the small room that had become his home. Once inside, he sank onto the bed with a heavy sigh. He hated the waiting. His life had always been about action and movement, but now he was stuck in this gilded cage. Days had passed since he’d exorcised the ghosts from Xuan Yimu’s manor, and the General had yet to give him a new task. Restless and annoyed, he lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing himself to relax.

Night fell, and a servant brought a tray with roasted duck, rice, and wine. At least the food here was excellent. Mark savored the meal, letting the rich flavors and warmth of the wine soothe his unease.

About twenty minutes later, the same servant returned to collect the dishes. Two others followed, carrying a wooden bathtub filled with steaming water. They placed it in the room and left without a word, though Mark knew the guards stationed outside weren’t going anywhere.

He undressed and slid into the tub, the heat melting away the tension in his muscles. The confinement grated on him—he missed the freedom of the road, the thrill of the unknown. But as much as he hated being Liao Cheng’s servant, he had to admit that the General treated him well, at least materially.

After soaking for fifteen minutes, Mark climbed out of the tub, drying himself with a towel. He knocked on the door to signal the guards, who promptly summoned the servants to remove the tub. Once alone, he dressed and sat on the bed, the wine and warm water lulling him into drowsiness.

A few moments later, Mark drifted off to sleep.

A sharp knock at the door startled Mark awake. He blinked groggily, unsure how long he’d been asleep. Judging by the darkness outside the small window, it was still late at night.

The door creaked open, and Pan Jiahao stepped inside. He was the night shift captain, responsible for the dozens of guards stationed around Mark’s room. Shi Xinyi oversaw the day shift, as the General insisted on rotating fresh, alert guards in case Mark tried to escape.

“Foreigner,” Jiahao said curtly. He wasn’t one for small talk, so his visit at this hour was strange. Was this some new order from the General? Jiahao hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I’m… sensitive to Lady Guanyu,” he began awkwardly. Mark recognized it as a clumsy way of admitting he had a soft spot—or perhaps a crush—on the General’s daughter.

“So I’ve taken it upon myself to allow her request,” Jiahao continued, his tone conspiratorial. “She wants you to secretly train her in swordsmanship. If you’re willing. I’ll let you carry your sword during the lessons. And, per her instructions, we won’t be watching you. My men and I will stay here, and if anyone comes snooping, we’ll say you’re asleep. This stays between us. The General mustn’t find out. As far as the world knows, neither you nor the Lady left your quarters tonight. My men are loyal to me and won’t breathe a word of this.”

Mark sat up, intrigued. He’d get to see Guanyu again and finally break the monotony of his confinement. “I’ll do it,” he said without hesitation.

Jiahao nodded, but his stern expression didn’t soften. “Good. But don’t try anything foolish, like running off. I’m taking a huge risk letting you roam freely in the garden with a sword and no supervision. If you escape, the punishment for me and my men will be severe. And more importantly—” his voice tightened—“Lady Guanyu will suffer the consequences too. You may not care about us, but think about her. She’ll pay the price if you betray our trust.”

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Mark nodded again, his thoughts swirling. The idea of escaping had crossed his mind, of course. This was his chance to regain his freedom, to leave servitude behind and resume his life as a wandering swordsman. But something held him back. He couldn’t bring himself to risk Guanyu’s safety.

It was maddeningly irrational, he thought. Here he was, ignoring the perfect opportunity to escape, shackling himself to a choice that felt both reckless and naïve. Yet he couldn’t deny it. He wanted to see her again, to hear her voice, to teach her how to wield a blade.

With a sigh, Mark pushed aside his doubts. He knew it wasn’t the smart choice, but it was one he was determined to make.

He took his sword and made his way to the garden’s heart, where the calm pond reflected the moonlight and peach blossom trees swayed gently in the breeze. Lady Guanyu was already there, looking as breathtaking as ever. She held a sword in her hand, her posture poised yet eager.

“Foreigner,” she greeted with a slight bow—not as a servant but with the grace of an equal.

“You can call me Mark,” he replied.

“Mark,” she said softly, letting the name linger on her lips. “Mark, teach me the art of the sword.”

Mark stepped forward, swinging his blade in a series of smooth, controlled arcs. The sword hissed through the air with sharp whooshing sounds. “Start with this,” he instructed.

Guanyu mimicked him, but her stance was shaky, her grip too loose, and her slashes lacked any real force.

“Again,” Mark said firmly.

She tried once more but made the same mistakes.

“Here, let me show you,” he offered, stepping closer. Standing behind her, he gently placed his hands over hers, guiding her movements. He adjusted her grip, positioned her feet, and helped her channel strength through her entire body.

Guanyu’s breath hitched as he leaned in, her cheeks flushing like the petals of the peach blossoms around them. Mark couldn’t help but notice the delicate scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. He had been with bold women before, but this quiet moment felt far more intimate.

After guiding her through the motions a few times, he stepped back. “Now, attack me.”

Guanyu hesitated. “But—”

“But what?” Mark raised an eyebrow.

“What if I hurt you by mistake?”

Mark chuckled. “I doubt that’ll happen, but I admire your optimism.”

“Don’t mock me!” she said with a laugh, her eyes sparkling, and for a moment, the tension between them softened.

Taking a deep breath, Guanyu lunged forward, aiming her sword at him. Mark deflected the strike with ease, barely moving. She tried again, swinging at his head, but he blocked it just as smoothly. Undeterred, Guanyu spun on her heel, aiming for his side, but Mark parried once more.

Finally, she charged, her blade slicing through the air with a satisfying whoosh. This time, she used her entire body to power the strike, just as Mark had taught her. The strength behind the attack was impressive, but Mark deflected it without breaking a sweat.

“You’ve improved already,” he said, lowering his blade. “For your first lesson, this is impressive. You’ve learned how to use your body’s strength, and that’s no small feat. But remember—strength alone won’t win battles. You need finesse and technique too.”

Guanyu’s eyes glimmered with determination. “Then teach me finesse.”

Mark smiled. “One step at a time.”

The lesson ended for the night, and Mark bowed slightly to Guanyu before making his way back to his room. Pan Jiahao let out a long breath of relief when he saw Mark return. Clearly, he’d been nervous about an escape attempt. Mark flopped onto his bed, letting the tension ease from his body. His mind wandered back to the training session with Guanyu. There was something oddly fulfilling about it, even more than his old life as a wandering swordsman.

Was he falling for her? No, he shook the thought away. He wasn’t the type. During his travels, he’d been with dozens of beautiful women, and love had never crossed his mind. He was a drifter, a playboy, always moving on. And yet... this felt different. He couldn’t shake it. Eventually, his thoughts faded, and he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, it wasn’t Pan Jiahao who woke him but Shi Xinyi, head of the day guards. Shi Xinyi, flanked by a dozen armed men, escorted Mark to the manor’s main building. They entered a grand hall with a massive wooden table dominating the space. Seated on a mat at one end was General Liao Cheng, calmly sipping tea.

“Take a seat,” the General said, gesturing to the mat beside him.

Mark settled down, and a servant brought him a steaming cup of tea. He sipped it carefully, enjoying the rich flavor despite its scalding heat.

“You must be getting restless,” Liao Cheng began. “I’ve arranged a task for you. Chancellor Han Fen is hosting a feast in my honor, but I suspect his real intent is to embarrass me. There will be sword fights, and he’ll undoubtedly pit his champion against mine to humiliate me. Your job is to win and defend my honor.”

Mark nodded. “Sounds straightforward.”

The General’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get overconfident. His champion is Mao Tao, a disciple of the Yijun Sword Sect. He’s trained in Qi cultivation. That’s why you should bring your spirit sword to the feast.”

Mark smirked. “I’ve beaten Qi users before, like Elder Kang Zhong of the Crane Sword Sect. I’ve even stood my ground against witches. Magic doesn’t scare me.”

Liao Cheng nodded, satisfied. “Good. The feast is in three days. Prepare yourself.”

That night, Mark returned to the garden, where Guanyu was already waiting for her second lesson. The moonlight bathed the peach blossoms in a soft glow, and the air carried a hint of their fragrance.

Mark demonstrated a series of fluid sword moves, and Guanyu did her best to imitate him. Her form was improving, but he stepped in to correct her stance and refine her technique.

“Now,” he said, stepping back, “attack me with what you’ve learned.”

Guanyu lunged at him, feinting a strike to his head before pulling back and redirecting her sword toward his chest. Mark easily read her move and blocked it, but he smiled. “Good! You’re learning to be unpredictable.”

Guanyu retreated a few steps, her eyes narrowing as she plotted her next move. Before she could act, Mark dashed forward, striking her lightly in the chest with the pommel of his sword. The blow knocked her off balance, and she tumbled to the ground.

“Your opponent won’t wait for you to plan,” Mark said, offering her his hand. “You’ve got to think and move at the same time.”

Guanyu took his hand, determination lighting up her face as she stood. “Let’s try again!”

Mark grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

She nodded, gripping her sword tighter. “Thank you for not treating me like some fragile flower, the way everyone else here does.”

“Why would I? You’re no delicate flower—you’re a warrior in the making.”

Guanyu attacked with a sharp downward strike, but halfway through, she pulled back with impressive speed and shifted to a quick horizontal slash. Mark blocked it with ease, but she followed up immediately with another downward strike. He blocked that too, and then came a rapid flurry of thrusts and strikes, each one swift and powerful. Mark stopped every single one. Her moves were strong, fast, and unpredictable—using her whole body to generate power. Mark was genuinely impressed. For only her second lesson, she was picking up swordsmanship incredibly quickly. She was a natural. What a waste that her father hadn’t let her start training earlier.

“Good,” Mark said, lowering his sword. “You’re learning fast.”

Guanyu sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “And yet I can’t seem to get the upper hand.”

Mark chuckled. “Come on, it’s your second lesson. You’ve never practiced swordsmanship before. And, objectively speaking, you’re up against someone who’s beaten dozens of highly skilled swordsmen, including an Elder of a Martial Arts Sect. Of course you can’t beat me yet. But honestly, you’re doing better than I expected. You’ve got talent.”

A small smile crept across Guanyu’s face. “Thanks.”

Mark nodded. “With more practice, your strikes will get faster, stronger, and even harder to predict. Experience will make your movements smoother and more natural. It’s all about time and effort.”

Guanyu’s expression softened. “I really appreciate you taking the time to teach me. I know you’re not here willingly. My father captured you during his campaign in Archon Innokentios’ lands. You’re usually under constant guard so you don’t escape. Yet you haven’t tried to run. You could have easily sprinted away tonight or even taken me hostage. But instead, you’re teaching me. Why?”

Mark hesitated. Normally, he’d toss out a teasing or flirtatious remark—it was second nature to him. He was a playboy who knew the right words to charm women into his bed and into having sex with him. But now, he seemed uncertain. “I… I guess I like you,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual. “You seem like a good person,” he added quickly, as if to make it clear he wasn’t trying to flirt.

Guanyu’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Thanks.”

Mark cleared his throat and stepped back. “Lesson’s over for today. Time to rest. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

Before she could respond, he turned and walked off toward his quarters, leaving Guanyu flustered and alone in the moonlit garden.

Back in his room, Pan Jiahao and the guards greeted him. Jiahao opened the door. “Good night, foreigner,” he said.

“Night,” Mark replied before flopping onto his bed.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how adorable Guanyu looked when she blushed. That image lingered in his mind until sleep finally claimed him.