Chapter 763: The Manor

The sewers beneath Bianjing are a tangled maze, the passages are large and hide a lot of filth, sheltering many river bandits and vicious beggars who live by robbing pedestrians. On this day, the rag‑clad Bai Lang slipped in from under a bridge—there are indeed some wretched souls here, but not many. Bai Lang simply went in and killed anyone he met, unless the person was as skinny as a stick and looked like a victim.

"Where the terrain is complex, the authorities can't sweep it clean; otherwise when the Jin soldiers break in…" Bai Lang muttered, and a corpse appeared before him. He didn't check its gender, but used Lightness Skill to leap over it, flicking a spark that ignited the body—this is true Qi circulating the Five Elements, turning into Bing fire that burns the corpse even though it isn't dry.

The massive corpse burst into a bluish‑white flame as if oil had met fire, even the foul stench was incinerated; moments later only white ash remained, and the air cleared. Bai Lang walked on, seeing five or six such corpses, and thought, "So much for the so‑called public order of the feudal society."

Bai Lang strolled through the underground, already aware of any living creature; the surge of true Qi sharpened his hearing, pinpointing heartbeats within a few li—though he did it casually without effort. Turning a corner, he indeed found a gang of vicious beggars, the leader a hulking brute, the rest scrawny and shifty, the sort who would cut and harvest flesh.

Yet Bai Lang knows that many of those who cut and harvest flesh look kind‑hearted—so they can deceive children. The people before him exude little karmic aura; they seem to be just road‑blocking robbers, petty thieves, with perhaps two or three lives on them. "Fine, that's a satisfying job," Bai Lang said, flicking five or six small stones that pierced straight through their heads, ending them instantly.

These men actually had some money; Bai Lang retrieved over five hundred coins, which is ordinary in Bianjing, and also found a few jade pendants and silver badges. He didn't go deeper; even if there were fearful people further down, they weren't any strong strongholds, so he simply left.

After exiting the carefree cave, Bai Lang went straight to a ready‑made clothing shop to change clothes—his current martial skill kept his body free of filth. He then sat in a tavern for a drink, learning that the Great Song Zhao official named Ji was a famously eccentric emperor in China's history, "master of calligraphy and painting, yet utterly incapable of governing."

The court harbored more than six thieves; one could say the civil and military officials only pursued wealth and comfort. It is said the Great Song's commodity economy was indeed prosperous, but it only produced a bunch of dogmatic scholars. After hearing this, Bai Lang paid the bill, went downstairs, walked along the avenue, sighing all the way; even in the Ming Capital (Jingcheng) he had never seen such splendor as present Bianjing, "what a pitiful scorched earth." He sighed once, left the city, and headed straight into the jianghu.

A man like Bai Lang, if he refuses to sell his life for Zhao, can only become a mountain‑dwelling outlaw of the green forest. "Even thieves have a code; sir, let us rob the emperor's birthday tribute! And don't let that Pagoda‑Bearing King monopolize it!" Bai Lang headed southeast; the best place to ambush the tribute was near the Grand Canal, the lifeline of Bianjing.

First, Bai Lang needed to chase the autumn wind, so he went to a manor. The manor was spacious and housed a group of idle men; in the middle, a youth of roughly his own age was practicing with a staff. The boy bore silk‑like tattoos of nine coiling dragons. Bai Lang also had dark tattoos of great power on his body and stood to watch the boy's drill.

After watching a few moves, Bai Lang let out a short laugh, realizing the staff was mostly ornamental. Hearing the laugh, the youth glared at Bai Lang, seeing someone of similar age, and retorted angrily, "Who dares mock your grandfather's skill!" The idle men shouted as well, but none dared to surround them.

Though his face was youthful, Bai Lang's stature was tall and his appearance heroic; he held no weapon, yet exuded a naturally fierce aura. "Your staff can be used to spar with others, no problem, but if you take it to the army to seek fame… you'll likely die." Bai Lang looked at the dragon tattoos on the youth and was reminded of the nine‑pattern dragon.

Bai Lang glanced at the inscription on the manor and saw it was indeed a chronicle, "Will this world become Water Margin? Not really." Whether the youth was the nine‑pattern dragon Shi Jin or not, Bai Lang would still say that line; of course he could not play the role of Wang Jin or the chief instructor. "Who are you?" the chronicler Shi Dalang—Bai Lang heard the idle man call him Shi Dalang—asked Bai Lang.

Bai Lang smiled, "I am Bai Lang White Jade Pillar."

"Good! Then take my staff!" the chronicler Shi Dalang, a rough‑looking youth, brandished a staff at once. The staff technique was not merely for show; its striking power was quite formidable. Bai Lang seized the staff head, applied a clever force, and the staff slipped from Shi Dalang's hands. Bai Lang tossed the staff back into Shi Dalang's arms, leaving the man standing dumbfounded.

Shi Dalang caught the staff, his eyes flickered a few times, then he exhaled and struck with a head‑on blow; Bai Lang stepped sideways to evade, then swept horizontally—these were genuine staff skills, though military training often reduces staff work to a simple roll. Bai Lang extended his arm and directly blocked the heavy horizontal sweep.

Shi Dalang felt as if he had struck solid iron; his palms throbbed painfully, realizing the youth before him truly possessed real skill. He immediately knelt, "Master! Will you accept a disciple?" Bai Lang chuckled, "Now the world is peaceful and prosperous; why learn this? The Great Song court never treats Qiu Ba well."

Shi Dalang didn't care; he just wanted to learn martial arts. An elder emerged from the manor, sighed a few times, and offered Bai Lang a position as the manor's chief instructor, promising daily wine and meat. Bai Lang thought, "If that's so, I'll earn a living here. Shi Dalang, don't call me master; just give me occasional guidance."

Taking the chief instructor role at the Shi family manor as a youth, there were indeed some who objected, but Bai Lang, bare‑handed, knocked them all down without needing weapons. Shi Dalang once asked what weapons Bai Lang excelled with, and Bai Lang laughed, "I'm proficient with all eighteen weapons, especially horse‑lances, great swords, and iron gauntlets." Shi Dalang was overjoyed.

One day Shi Dalang brought a horse; Bai Lang inspected it and said, "This horse is only good for transport, not a warhorse—too short." Shi Dalang sighed, "Our Great Song lacks horses; this is the best within dozens of li." Thus the war‑horse plan was abandoned; Bai Lang let Shi Dalang familiarize himself with the horse's temperament, and riding it with a wooden stick to poke left and right was sufficient.

As for himself, Bai Lang had the manor's blacksmith forge weapons for him; he naturally requested a horse‑lance, a great sword, and iron gauntlets.