Chapter 130: Becoming a Disciple at Lanling Alley

“Business this good?”

Li Yan was slightly surprised, his brow furrowing slightly.

He didn’t care what profession the elder Li had taken up—as long as he possessed real skill and was willing to teach, the cost was worth it.

But judging by this scene, he was likely swamped.

Whether he had time to teach him was another matter entirely.

“No, something’s wrong!”

Sha Lifei’s eyes were sharp—he immediately spotted the anomaly and whispered, “None of those blocking the door are patients; they’re all just spectators.”

The group exchanged glances and quickened their pace.

At the entrance, they pushed through the crowd and looked inside—it was indeed trouble, but not quite what they’d expected.

Though Renxin Hall was presided over by a Daoist physician, it looked no different from an ordinary clinic: medicinal cabinets stood behind the main hall, a statue of the Medicine King was enshrined on the left, and a table for pulse diagnosis sat on the right.

But in the center of the main hall stood a frame, like a horizontal bar, upon which a man was hanging upside down.

The man was short and stocky, clad in coarse black clothing caked with dust, eyes tightly shut, face ashen, already unconscious.

His head hung three feet above the ground, beneath which a lotus lamp burned.

Two men stood nearby, their gazes dark and menacing, fixed angrily on the right.

Behind the pulse-diagnosis table on the right sat an elderly man, tall and imposing, dressed in gray with white beard and long, flowing longevity eyebrows.

The elder didn’t look up, flipping through a medical text, utterly ignoring the hostile stares of the two men.

Outside, the onlookers murmured among themselves.

“Strange—why is the clinic roasting human flesh?”

“You know nothing—this Li doctor here is a famed physician of Chang’an; he’s surely treating someone.”

“I’ve never heard of such a treatment…”

“Shh, keep your voice down—those two don’t look like good people.”

The crowd might not understand, but Sha Lifei was an old hand—he instantly sensed something amiss and whispered, “Little Brother Li, those two are likely grave robbers.”

“Let’s watch a bit longer.”

Li Yan narrowed his eyes and gave a quiet instruction.

He had already recognized their origins.

Grave robbers had their own rules: first, they couldn’t be too tall.

For one, tunnel passages were narrow; every extra inch of width doubled the effort required. Short stature offered the best efficiency.

Large, spacious imperial tombs were too dangerous and had long since been thoroughly looted by past generations.

They mostly broke into the graves of officials, gentry, and wealthy merchants.

Too tall, and they couldn’t even stand upright.

As for the “Five Misfortunes and Three Deficiencies,” that was just nonsense to fool outsiders.

This trade was dangerous and a grave crime under Da Xuan law, so selecting apprentices was done with extreme caution—fearing they’d end up with a traitor.

Moreover, prolonged work inevitably attracted yin-evil energy; either one would show signs of misfortune and decay, or be plagued by endless illnesses and die a wretched death.

But the most telling sign was their hands.

Their knuckles were thick and swollen—trained in the art of grave excavation.

Capable of disarming traps, prying tomb bricks, and defending themselves.

Yet what truly interested Li Yan was the patient—his body emitted the stench of decay, and his back carried the metallic odor of fresh wounds.

Had they encountered a jiangshi?

Li Yan’s interest stirred; he whispered to Wang Daoxuan, “Master, how do you treat corpse poison?”

Wang Daoxuan smiled. “I’m no expert in this field; Hong Niacha knows far more than I do.”

Li Yan then remembered: Hong Niacha was not only skilled at capturing demons and monsters, but also an expert in dealing with jiangshi.

Hong Niacha, seeing their glances, shook her head and whispered, “There are many ways to cure corpse poison, but Elder Li has chosen the harshest—this is punishment.”

So that’s how it is…

Li Yan and Sha Lifei exchanged a knowing smile and watched the spectacle.

Finally, the grave robber’s accomplice could no longer hold back; he bowed slightly. “Elder, are you mocking us?”

Li Shiqing glanced at him coolly. “What makes you say that?”

The man roared, “No need for pretense—we respect you as a senior, but don’t refuse wine and take punishment instead!”

Hiss!

As he spoke, a sudden commotion arose beside them.

The hanging man, though unconscious, had sweated profusely from the candle’s heat—drops of oil-sweat had fallen onto the flame.

Soon, sweat poured from his head in greater quantity.

In moments, the sweat turned dark gray, and a thick, foul stench spread through the air.

“What the hell is that? So stinking!”

“I think I’ve smelled this before—it’s corpse odor…”

“Did they kill the man?”

“Fool, they’re grave robbers…”

Previously, only Li Yan could smell the corpse odor—but now it spread everywhere, making it obvious to all that these men were of dubious origin.

Some clever onlookers had already turned and run to report to the authorities.

“Old man, you’re asking for death!”

The two accomplices snapped back to their senses, eyes blazing with malice; they yanked daggers from their belts and charged toward Elder Li.

“Insolent!”

Before they could close in, the young man grinding herbs roared, leapt forward, dropped his shoulders, tucked his elbows, drew in his chest, and thrust his right palm out with force.

Crack! Crack! Two sharp slaps echoed like firecrackers.

Before the two men could react, each received a stinging slap across the face, spinning through the air and crashing out the door, faces bloody, unconscious.

“Excellent!”

Li Yan couldn’t help but clap in admiration.

Pi Gua Palm—also called Face-Slapping Fist—the attendant had merely delivered two slaps, but even if the grave robbers had dodged, they’d still have been struck.

The attendant’s martial skill was flawless.

Elder Li must be a master of this art too.

Hearing the applause, the attendant ignored it, crouched beside the hanging man, sniffed his sweat, pried open his eyelids to inspect, then rose and bowed. “Master, the heat is sufficient.”

The elder nodded. “Good. Administer the needles.”

Without hesitation, the attendant took a three-edged needle from the medicine cabinet and pricked the man’s Fengchi, Baihui, Yongquan, Zusanli, and other acupoints to draw blood.

The blood that flowed out was black and foul.

But soon it turned bright red.

The man’s complexion gradually returned to normal; his eyelids trembled, and he groaned softly, as if about to awaken.

“Make way! Make way!”

At that moment, footsteps and scolding voices approached.

Several constables arrived with iron chains, first binding the two unconscious men on the ground, then entering the clinic and bowing respectfully.

“Master Li, this…”

The elder nodded slightly. “The corpse poison is gone. Take them away.”

“Thank you, Master!”

The constables beamed with delight.

Near the ancient ruins of Zhou’s Haojing, a grand tomb had been robbed with explosives, causing a major uproar—they’d just stumbled upon a ready-made merit. How could they not be pleased?

The onlookers immediately began praising him.

Of course, with the spectacle over, they dispersed—only a few patients re-entered the clinic.

Li Yan and the others followed inside.

The elder had clearly sensed their presence; he smiled at Hong Niacha. “Miss Luo, long time no see.”

“Thanks to Elder’s blessings,” Hong Niacha bowed respectfully, about to introduce Li Yan and the others—but Li Shiqing waved her off.

He turned to Li Yan, stroking his beard with a smile. “If I’m not mistaken, young friend, your name is Li Yan?”

Li Yan blinked in surprise. “Elder knows me?”

Li Shiqing sighed. “Chen Yuan Daoist of the Medicine King Temple beneath Zhongnan Mountain is a close friend of mine—also of our sect.”

“I heard recently he was injured; I rushed there overnight, only to learn he’d been betrayed by someone he trusted and rescued by a passing hero.”

“Just now, I heard a divine tiger’s roar outside—the Divine Tiger Token, you’ve recovered it, haven’t you?”

So that’s it…

Li Yan smiled inwardly and nodded. “I’ve fulfilled my duty.”

The elder was a Daoist physician, a member of the Xuanmen—he’d likely awakened the Ear Divine Power, but Li Yan hadn’t expected him to possess the rare ability to hear the speech of spirits and gods. Li Shiqing asked, “And the traitor?”

“Slain.”

“Good!”

Hearing Li Yan’s answer, Li Shiqing laughed heartily, then shook his head. “Chen Yuan Daoist is too kind—he’s always being taken advantage of. Sometimes I truly can’t bear to watch.”

“With the villain dead, today calls for a great toast!”

The disciple grinding medicine beside him suddenly looked up and said calmly, “Master, when you heard that news that day, you said you were furious and wanted to drink a large cup.”

“Your wife said you’re not allowed to drink.”

“Insolent disciple, shut up!”

Li Shiqing’s face darkened, clearly furious: “Alcohol is the essence of the five grains; a thousand cups can dispel sorrow. If you won’t even let me have a sip, don’t you know that suppressed emotions cause illness?”

“This is utterly outrageous...”

Though he spoke harshly, he did not mention drinking again.

!.

The Red Night Demon smiled and bowed his hands: “Since there is this connection, I shall not beat around the bush.”

“This young man Li Yan wishes to perfect his fist art and wants to learn Pi-Gua, so I recommended you to him.”

“Learn fist arts?”

Li Shiqing pondered for a moment, then nodded: “Since you saved Chen Yuan, learning a fist art is no problem.”

“But I only know how to strike, not how to teach—I can recommend the master who taught me my fist art.”

Li Yan’s eyes lit up: “May I ask who this master is?”

Li Shiqing sighed: “This master is no other...”

“It is my own wife!”

“Her surname is Ma, ancestral home in Cangzhou...”

Three days later, inside a large courtyard in Lanling Fang .

“Pi means to break; Gua means to hang.”

Beneath the eaves of the main hall, an old woman sat on a chair, sipping tea as she explained the fist principles: “Most believe Pi-Gua relies on brute force, but it is actually refined in calculation. When two opponents clash, first close the Five Phases...”

As she spoke, she suddenly raised her palm and slashed downward.

“The Pizhan belongs to Metal, descending from above, like splitting bamboo!”

Before her words ended, she flipped her palm upward and swept it.

“The Huoda is Fire, surging upward like flame to break the Pizhan !”

“The Lvlan is Water, using horizontal to control vertical!”

“The Hengji is Earth, using push and collide to counter Shun !”

“This is the use of the Five Phases: Qian is three connected lines, Kun is six broken lines, Zhen is an inverted bowl, Gen is an upturned bowl... thus forming the Eight Trigrams’ transformations, internal form manifesting outward, beginning with Qian, ending with Kun.”

The old woman’s face was gentle, her posture dignified; though her hair was half-white, it was neatly combed—clearly a lady of privilege from a wealthy household.

Yet when speaking of fist arts, she seemed a different person.

Her aura was imposing, her palm movements accompanied by whistling sounds.

Li Yan, dressed in short martial attire, stood in the courtyard, snow and wind swirling around him, eyes never blinking as he listened intently.

The Baishi process went smoothly.

This old woman was no ordinary person—she was the daughter of the Cangzhou Grand Escort Bureau, trained since childhood by renowned masters, destined to become famous in the Jianghu, until one escort mission led her to fall in love at first sight with Li Shiqing, the wandering physician.

From then on, the Jianghu lost a female hero.

But in Chang’an’s Lanling Fang , there emerged a virtuous Madame Li...

After finishing, the old woman returned to her kind expression and smiled: “You are young but have already entered Anjin—your talent is clear. Yet since you trained Red Fist since childhood, your force generation is habitual. You must thoroughly practice the Wu Long Pan Da.”

“Begin.”

At her command, Li Yan first bowed, then spread his legs wide, arms extended horizontally, alternating left and right bow stances, swinging his arms in wide circles.

It looked somewhat like a giant windmill.

Having trained since childhood, he had excellent bodily control; soon his arms whistled as they spun, stirring the surrounding snow and wind into a vortex.

Yet after watching for a while, Madame Li’s brow tightened, and she shook her head: “Stop.”

“Go turn the windlass, and feel it carefully.”

“Yes, Master.”

Li Yan bowed respectfully, then walked to the well in the small courtyard, lowered the windlass, and drew a full bucket of water.

But after lifting the bucket, he suddenly released it.

Gulu lu!

The bucket plummeted, the windlass spinning like a whirlwind.

With a thud as the bucket hit the ground, Li Yan lifted it again, released it once more, observing the windlass’s rotation.

Wu Long Pan Da is also called the Windlass Flip.

Pi-Gua Fist shares similar force generation: centered on an axis, relying not on brute strength, but on leverage, rotation, and counter-pull.

This, then, is Wu Long Pan Da!

Madame Li sat on her chair and shook her head: “Pi-Gua cultivation cannot skip this step.”

“The Li family’s windlass, bucket, and rope are specially made—if an ordinary person accidentally gets caught in the windlass’s counter-pull, they may break an arm or faint; worse, they could die.”

“Back when I learned fist arts, one senior brother, eager to feel the force, accidentally got crippled. You must not rush.”

“Fist arts... are a lifetime’s pursuit...”

As she spoke, an elderly servant from the front courtyard entered, bowing: “Madam, Lady Liu has come with her son to pay a visit.”

“Hmph!”

The previously kind old woman’s face darkened: “Her son is useless, always loitering in brothels. What good is money if he thinks he can marry my Tan’er? He has no sense of his own worth!”

She rose and said: “Yan’er, keep practicing. I’ll send them away. Oh, and have lunch here today.”

“Yes, Master.”

Li Yan bowed respectfully.

Once the old woman left, Li Yan immediately formed the Yang Seal, drew a deep breath, confirmed no one was nearby, then spun the windlass.

As he released it, he touched it with his hand.

Gulu lu!

Crack!

His wrist fractured, twisted into a grotesque arc.

Li Yan gritted his teeth, realigned the bone, which healed instantly; he shook his hand—now perfectly restored.

“So this is how it is...”

Li Yan murmured, as if struck by insight.

What’s the fear of a broken bone? When I cultivate Thunder Art later, if needed, I can summon lightning myself to experience it—no problem.

This is his habit.

Using the Great Luo Body for rapid cultivation is far better than getting crippled or killed in combat.

Of course, I must also find celestial treasures and earthly gems as soon as possible...

With this insight, Li Yan entered the state of practice faster.

When the old woman returned, she saw Li Yan’s arms whirling like wind, producing a tearing sound—first surprised, then pleased:

“Good. You’re nearly matching my own pace back then...”

The Li family’s lunch was simple yet refined.

Three meat dishes, three vegetable dishes—six plates, all home-style flavors, yet perfectly cooked, with knife skills rivaling those of a restaurant.

Li Shiqing was busy at the clinic; the meal was brought by servants.

At the table with them was another man, whose face bore some resemblance to Li Shiqing, but appeared more scholarly.

Li Shiqing had two sons. The eldest, Li Yuniē, was also a Daoist physician, inheriting the family’s medical arts, and ran a clinic in the Eastern Market, where the powerful gathered.

The girl whom someone had come to propose for was Li Yuniē’s daughter—Madame Li’s beloved granddaughter.

The younger son, Li Kongqing, had not awakened any divine ability nor trained in martial arts; instead, he entered the Confucian path, earned the title of Xiucai, and served as a companion reader at the Wang Fu.

Yuniē and Kongqing are both ancient herbal names.

Li Yan had trained for half a day and was starving; he ate silently, his chopsticks flying.

Opposite him, Li Kongqing was distracted, frowning deeply.

Madame Li frowned: “Kongqing, is something wrong?”

Li Kongqing put down his chopsticks and sighed: “Mother, I truly cannot continue as a companion reader...”

(End of Chapter)