"A difference of a thousand miles…"
Chu Mu sheathed his blade, standing still as the memory of his recent sword swings surfaced in his mind.
The first swing carried the faintest ripple of imperfection.
The second, third, and fourth swings bore similarly minute deviations.
Compared to before, his progress was significant, his gains substantial.
Yet Chu Mu keenly sensed that erasing these minute flaws entirely would likely be immensely difficult.
The thought lingered only briefly before he pushed it aside. Such progress already left him deeply satisfied.
Meals must be eaten bite by bite, and paths must be walked step by step.
Best not to overthink.
Raising his gaze to the misty sky, Chu Mu tightened his cloak, took a step, and headed toward his room.
Upon entering, he set his sword aside and instinctively reached for the patrol armor hanging on the wall. Only when he held it did he pause, realizing today was, perhaps, a day of rest…
According to the patrol office's rules, there were four days of leave each month, though the specific days depended on each squad's arrangements.
But since joining the patrol office, Chu Mu had learned that rules were just rules—reality hinged on the whims of those above.
In his month and more at the patrol office, this was his first day off, granted only because the office's expansion was complete and a new centurion from the county had arrived, allowing this rare day of respite.
"How rare…"
Chu Mu shook his head, hanging the armor back on the wall. As he turned to leave, something caught his attention, and his steps halted abruptly.
At the corner of the courtyard, a puppy lay curled into a ball, whimpering softly now and then.
"Where did this stray come from?"
Scanning the surroundings, Chu Mu's gaze settled on a small gap at the base of the courtyard wall. Clearly, the puppy had slipped through that hole.
Judging by its shivering, it was likely abandoned or lost.
"Might as well keep a dog to guard the house."
Glancing around his courtyard, Chu Mu found the idea rather appealing.
Brushing the snowflakes off the puppy, he scooped it up and strode into the house. The fire in the hearth flickered, warmth rising in waves, and the trembling puppy seemed to grow more at ease.
The puppy curled up quietly at Chu Mu's feet, occasionally twitching, its demeanor undeniably endearing.
"Let's get you something to eat."
Chu Mu chuckled, heading to the kitchen. He grabbed a steamed bun and popped it into his mouth, then warmed some leftover food, poured it into a bowl, and set it before the puppy.
The puppy glanced timidly at Chu Mu, looked around cautiously, then dipped its head to nibble at the food with soft smacking sounds.
Gazing out at the snowflakes drifting anew, Chu Mu's earlier notion of strolling through town faded.
He settled by the hearth, picked up a book, and began to read slowly.
If reading before had merely been about learning characters, a month of schooling had shifted his perspective considerably.
Reading was perhaps the easiest way to calm the mind and focus, and such undivided focus could nurture his "spiritual radiance." For him, this was undoubtedly a double benefit.
As always, with book in hand, time slipped by swiftly. After roughly an hour, Chu Mu finally emerged from the world within the pages.
The four foundational books for his studies, he had read countless times. Though many characters remained unfamiliar, the meaning system akin to Chinese characters posed little barrier to grasping the texts' significance.
What he now read was a historical chronicle he had purchased from a bookstore some days prior.
Its primary focus was the history of the Great Chu dynasty, the main reason he had bought it despite not yet fully mastering literacy.
After all, what better way to understand this era than through a history book?
The chronicle recorded that the Great Chu had stood for six hundred ninety-three years, spanning twelve emperors. The current ruler, the twelfth, reigned under the era name Jingwu, now in its twenty-eighth year.
Chu Mu had initially assumed that a dynasty enduring nearly seven centuries must have weathered countless storms, with countless capable figures striving to uphold its legacy, allowing Great Chu to persist to this day.
Yet, flipping through the chronicle, aside from the founding emperor's era of upheaval and bloodshed—where even matters like paper currency, which puzzled Chu Mu, were established by that very emperor—state control over mines and strict regulations also began with the dynasty's founding.
The subsequent eleven emperors, however, read like a monotonous ledger.
The transfer of imperial power saw no turbulence, policy reforms were absent, powerful ministers typical of historical records never emerged, and noble rebellions or usurpations were nowhere to be found.
The few instances of peasant uprisings were like ants shaking a tree—crushed by thunderous force the moment they arose.
Through the entire chronicle, Great Chu's near seven-hundred-year reign appeared harmonious, a portrait of a stable realm with concord between ruler and subject.
Was this normal?
It seemed normal enough, but clearly, normalcy itself was the greatest abnormality.
Though Chu Mu wasn't deeply versed in history, the millennia of rise and fall from his past life clearly illustrated a universal truth: no strategy endures forever. Even the best policies and the most prosperous fortunes shift with time.
After all, human hearts are unpredictable.
For a dynasty, a realm, a set of rules to persist nearly seven centuries was almost fantastical.
In his past life's thousands of years of history, dynasties lasting three or four centuries were rare.
A near seven-hundred-year reign, peaceful and untroubled, was more fantastical than a fairy tale.
Moreover, per the chronicle, Great Chu did not dominate the world alone. Neighboring states existed, their strength and territories not inferior, yet for over four centuries, Great Chu and these states had coexisted harmoniously, without even a hint of war.
In nearly seven hundred years of Great Chu's history, the only recorded conflicts, aside from the founding wars, were against the barbarians.
These barbarians, however, were not true foreign enemies. As the chronicle described, they were akin to the indigenous tribes of his past world's history, dwelling in remote mountains and harsh lands, their culture and customs distinct from the Chu people.
Yet, in Great Chu's near seven centuries, most of these barbarians had become history.
The chronicle declared: seven hundred years of Great Chu, blessed with fair winds and rains, a realm of peace and prosperity, its fortune enduring.
"I can't make sense of it…"
Chu Mu shook his head. Since arriving in this world, though he had encountered little, the things that baffled him only grew.
A seven-hundred-year reign, a realm of peace, twelve emperors averaging nearly sixty years per reign…
This Great Chu—could it be a line of long-lived sage kings? It was more fantastical than any fairy tale.
This era was truly extraordinary!
…
*(End of Chapter)*