Chapter 18: The Past of the Sick Tiger

“What do you mean?!”

Li Yan rarely spoke of his father Li Hu’s death, for it was somewhat shameful.

His nickname, the Sick Tiger of Guanzhong, also made him a notorious womanizer.

This life’s mother was an ordinary peasant woman; under his grandfather’s strict control, his father had been relatively stable—besides practicing martial arts, he lived a life of farming and weaving.

Until the year after his birth.

A great drought struck Guanzhong, locusts ravaged the land, and plagues broke out everywhere.

That same year, the Maitreya Sect also stirred up chaos.

His mother fell ill and died; with the household unable to afford food, his father picked up a knife and left home, surviving by the ways of the Jianghu, earning Jianghu money, and gradually building a reputation.

But once he did, it was like a tiger escaping its cage—no one could hold him back.

He not only killed indiscriminately but also left behind a trail of romantic debts.

When Li Yan was young, he had seen several beautiful women storming into their home, wailing and weeping, fighting at the door, driving his grandfather to refuse meals for days.

The year he died, it was in a brothel in Chang’an City.

According to the constables and the brothel’s madam, he died of “horse wind”; the coroner and his grandfather personally examined the body and confirmed it.

Since then, his grandfather rarely mentioned his father and grew even older.

Previously, Li Yan had assumed Sha Lifei was lying.

But since learning of the curse, he felt this matter was not so simple.

Seeing the killing intent flare in Li Yan’s eyes, his dragon-like pupils radiating cold light, Sha Lifei grew fearful and quickly smiled apologetically: “I heard… ah, I only heard… a few months after the incident, that brothel had trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“People died! Several courtesans were killed!”

“What does that have to do with my father?”

“I just like to gossip—I happened to know those who died were all old lovers of yours.”

“Go on!”

“Normally, no one in officialdom cares about a few courtesans dying, but back then, everyone was unusually tense—Zhou Pan even took the initiative to cooperate, leading his disciples to Chang’an City, searching everywhere.”

“You know what kind of man Zhou Pan is—a cunning old monkey who grabs every advantage and flees every trouble. His sudden enthusiasm? Something’s fishy!”

“Besides, he was the one who benefited most from your father’s death.”

As Sha Lifei spoke, he watched Li Yan’s expression.

Suddenly, he felt a lightness in his chest, looked down—and realized Li Yan’s short knife had silently retracted into his sleeve, unnoticed.

Sleeve Knife!

Sha Lifei instantly remembered what that was.

When Li Hu was alive, there was a Jianghu legend: he not only mastered the Guanzhong Quick Blade but, based on the Robe Technique and Sleeve Hand, created a Sleeve Knife.

"Sleeve hiding a knife" originally described someone who appears kind on the outside but is venomous within.

This Sleeve Knife was the same—silent and invisible, it could kill without warning.

Li Hu had built his reputation precisely with these two blades, and now they’d passed to his son.

This boy was even better suited for the Sleeve Knife than his father.

Though Li Yan had retracted the blade, his gaze remained icy. “Uncle Sha, no beating around the bush—if my father’s death truly had secrets, I owe you a favor.”

“But one thing at a time—what were you scheming against me for?”

“If you don’t explain clearly, this isn’t over today!”

Li Yan was called the “Troublesome Ghost” in the village for good reason.

Having lived two lives, he had seen through too many things—he cared nothing for propriety, rules, or systems, and had no patience for pretense.

What did Sha Lifei plan?

Even if he had to pull his teeth, he’d pry it out today!

Looking into Li Yan’s eyes, Sha Lifei felt his scalp prickle; he awkwardly scratched his bald head and said, “Young Master Yan, don’t be angry—you know me, I’m famous for my loyalty…”

He choked off the boast, helplessly adding: “Actually, nothing much—I accidentally offended one of Zhou Pan’s disciples and had to come to Xianyang City.”

“I thought your family had grievances with him too—perfect chance to get a helper…”

“Oh, I see.”

Li Yan nodded slowly, “Uncle Sha, you could’ve just said it outright. Look what nearly happened—don’t take it personally.”

Sha Lifei nodded quickly, “Not at all, we’re on the same side. Also, Master Wang’s matter—tomorrow we’ll handle it, but we must keep our movements hidden when entering the city.”

“Naturally.”

Li Yan smiled in agreement, as if the near-draw of the blade had never happened, then turned and strolled away.

Only then did Sha Lifei exhale, drenched in cold sweat; he silently cursed: Damn it, this kid’s got a dog’s face—switches moods in a heartbeat.

Now that this is over, I’d better keep my distance from him…

…………

Back near the shack, Li Yan found a quiet spot beside a large tree, hugged his knife, and prepared to sleep.

It was already summer; the night was warm, so he hadn’t brought bedding—he’d just make do here until he found Wang Daoxuan, then leave.

He took Sha Lifei’s words seriously.

His father’s death didn’t stem solely from the curse’s bad luck—there was more beneath the surface.

Whether it involved Zhou Pan remained uncertain.

But some instinct told him: this matter was tied to Jianghu sorcerers!

No matter what he did later, first he had to step into this path.

At that moment, footsteps sounded behind him.

Li Yan opened his eyes and saw Hei Dan.

The boy held a water skin, hesitant, afraid to approach.

Li Yan smiled easily: “What’s wrong? Did I grow horns?”

This boy was the only one in the village who got along with him—he was loyal, so when Li Yan asked for help, he acted without hesitation.

Hei Dan scratched his head, grinned sheepishly, and offered the water skin: “Big Brother Yan, drink some water—you were amazing today!”

“Not me—him. He underestimated me.” Li Yan’s expression turned serious as he recounted the duel in detail.

Defeating Meng Haicheng seemed like a single move—but it wasn’t simple.

First, he knew Meng excelled at Monkey Fist; he exploited Meng’s age to provoke him into overconfidence, creating the perfect opening.

Meng was older, with rich Jianghu experience—if he’d fought cautiously, it would’ve taken longer to bring him down.

Since they were close, Li Yan revealed all the subtleties without reservation—so Hei Dan would know how to guard himself if he ever faced a similar opponent.

Hei Dan stared, stunned: “So complicated?”

Li Yan smiled. “The Jianghu is full of deceit. Strength is only used when faces are torn open—the real knives are hidden. Without a few extra wits, how can you survive?”

Of course, he didn’t say everything.

Defeating Meng Haicheng wasn’t just for show.

From the moment he heard Sha Lifei’s provocation, he knew the old fox had ill intent—he used the victory to force the veteran to spill the truth.

!.

And this sigh came from his heart.

Blade fights are just surface-level. The strange arts of the Xuanmen—if you don’t understand or guard against them, you won’t even know how you died.

Hei Dan sat stunned for a long while, then spoke with dimmed eyes: “No wonder my father knew martial arts but made me till the soil—the Jianghu isn’t for me.”

His voice grew agitated: “Big Brother Yan, I can’t accept it. I don’t want to stay stuck in this village—teach me what to do.”

Li Yan thought for a moment: “Learn a trade first. If you want to leave, you need a way to earn your keep—or you’ll end up like me, fighting with knives.”

“Learn a trade…”

Hei Dan thought, then nodded seriously: “Big Brother Yan, I’ll follow you. I have an uncle in Chang’an City who’s a leatherworker—if I say I want to learn the trade, my father won’t stop me.”

As he spoke, hope lit his eyes, and he scampered off happily.

Li Yan smiled wryly, then closed his eyes, hugging his knife.

In his past life, he’d barely survived by learning auto repair.

In this life, he only felt his knife was more useful…

…………

Unnoticed, night deepened.

The waning moon hung low, casting no light.

In the shacks beside the wheat fields, snores mingled with insect chirps.

The wheat harvesters had traveled for days; they’d rise before dawn to work, so they slept early to conserve energy.

The Lu family mansion far away was equally silent.

Yet in several key areas, guards patrolled.

Zhao Jiu yawned, rubbed his face, feeling bored.

As Li Yan suspected, they were all disciples of the Zhao Family Fist.

Originally in Jinzhou, they escorted caravans for wealthy merchants—risky, but well-fed and clothed, a trade passed down generations.

But once they met a tough opponent: they lost the cargo, lost several key members, their strength declined, and their business was stolen.

They were headed for collapse—until someone connected them to become bodyguards for this Lu Squire, coming to Guanzhong.

Compared to their nomadic days, life was far more stable now.

Yet it was so peaceful it made one itch, not even a petty thief having been seen.

At that moment, Zhao Jiu glanced idly—and suddenly widened his eyes.

He could sense, far off and blurred, what seemed to be a human shadow.

“Who’s there?!”

Zhao Jiu wasn’t afraid—he let out a cold laugh and dashed forward.

The estate guards had their own secret signals; no matter how dark the light, they could tell friend from foe.

Besides, if this were a Flying Bandit from the Rong Family of the Jianghu, he’d know the code: first throw a stone to test the waters, then exchange pleasantries—rarely would he fight to the death.

The figure didn’t answer—likely just an amateur thief.

He didn’t draw his waist knife, but gripped a rattan cane.

A rattan cane was tough and punishing—hurt like hell when swung, but if this was just a starving thief sneaking through walls and alleys, a good beating would suffice; no need to kill.

Yet when he reached the corner, he found nothing.

Had he imagined it?

As Zhao Jiu puzzled over this, he suddenly felt a chill at his back.

He spun around—and turned deathly pale, every hair on his body standing on end.

There, a blurred human shape loomed: hunched, short, face wrinkled like chicken skin—a crone.

But this crone had a bluish face, her feet hovering inches above the ground…

“Aaah—!”

The scream of terror shattered the silence of the Lu family compound…

…………

Beneath a large tree at the edge of the wheat field, Li Yan suddenly opened his eyes.

He sniffed, frowning as he gazed toward the distance.

He smelled a strange, peculiar scent.

It wasn’t the icy, bloody stench of a Changbing, nor the peaceful incense of a Earth God shrine—it carried warmth and sweetness, like a delicious pastry.

Pastry?

Li Yan didn’t know why such a thought had surfaced in his mind.

But soon, he understood why.

The substitute deity statue in his dantian twitched eagerly, like a hungry cat spotting fish…

(End of Chapter)