Chapter 13

Clenching his fist, feeling the heat surging through his body—vastly different from before—Li Guanyi felt dazed.

If before, the sensation had been a speck of qi no bigger than a sesame seed,

now it was at least the size of an egg, tightly balled and solid.

Clenching his fist, assuming a horse stance, he punched forward—the force solid, brimming with boundless, inexhaustible power.

Stepping back, he drew the short sword his aunt had given him, stepped back with sword in hand, swept horizontally, slashed vertically, slashed diagonally upward.

Sweeping clouds, cleaving mountains, sweeping clouds, cutting waves.

Pushing mountains, repelling ridges, piercing kings, slaying emperors.

Techniques utterly unlike the famed Eight Breaker Blades circulating outside, poured out in one continuous rush.

As muscle memory surfaced, what began as clumsiness swiftly became mastery.

Eight Breaker Blades, beginner! Eight Breaker Blades, proficient! Eight Breaker Blades, skilled! Eight Breaker Blades—

Killing intent sharp and disciplined, even in this confined space, it stirred a pale blade-light that halted abruptly—Li Guanyi stepped back half a pace, exhaled gently, and brought the short sword down in a sudden heavy slash, like a crescent moon.

Final technique: Slash the Heavenly Wolf! A hum arose from within—the sound of muscles and bones tensing and exploding all at once.

The final technique ended.

Li Guanyi gripped the short sword with both hands, breathed slowly, feeling the tremors in his muscles—a strange yet familiar sensation rising in his heart, as if he had trained this sword art for years, yet his body held no corresponding muscle memory.

The ache and faint tremors from muscle exertion were slowly soothed by the warm flow.

Eight Breaker Blades, perfected! Li Guanyi reviewed everything that had just happened, thoughtful: "This is…"

"The bronze tripod absorbed some kind of power from General Yue Qianfeng, then transformed it into that dragon—it seems to carry fragments of General Yue Qianfeng's martial memories, aiding my cultivation…"

Li Guanyi's thoughts suddenly halted.

A crushing hunger seized his stomach; as he began thinking, his brain demanded energy, his stomach acid churned violently, threatening to surge out—forcing his thoughts to break off. He gripped his belly hard, reason crumbling under the assault of appetite.

Like the feeling after pulling off a win in a all-night gaming session.

Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! He swallowed saliva, tiptoed quietly out of the room.

First he grabbed a carrot, washed it, and shoved it into his mouth, crunching it down. Lighting the stove now would be too troublesome and time-consuming. He pulled a large flatbread from a wooden cabinet, moved the stone atop a black jar, used a pair of clean chopsticks to fish out pickled vegetable strips and garlic from inside.

Squatting behind the cabinet, he ate one bite of flatbread, one chopstick of pickles, and devoured the entire bread in moments, barely quelling the churning hunger in his stomach.

Then he licked his lips, pulled out another flatbread, tore it open, and shoved it into his mouth—finally able to think again.

"It's hunger caused by the body needing massive nutrition—conservation of matter. Martial training reshapes the body, requiring nourishment. But the nutrition needed to perfect the Eight Breaker Blades at once couldn't possibly be satisfied by a few flatbreads. The jade liquid inside the tripod must be the key—it can at least serve as… qi."

Li Guanyi turned his chopsticks over and absently scratched lines into the ground.

Their rented courtyard had no floor—just packed earth inside the house, convenient for Li Guanyi to write things. He idly poked a dead ant with the chopstick's end, scratched his chin, and drew random lines to organize his thoughts.

"The tripod can absorb qi or spiritual essence from powerful cultivators."

"Once full, it can transform into… a crimson dragon, using spiritual essence and qi to aid cultivation…"

Li Guanyi understood its general function, but new questions surfaced.

He rubbed his chin, murmured to himself: "What are the requirements for the tripod to absorb power? What level of martial artist is needed? Are there specific conditions?"

"Second, how strong is the tripod's feedback? What's its upper limit?"

"Can it only assist in cultivating the exact art the source possesses?"

Li Guanyi realized his doubts about the tripod were growing—then he heard faint footsteps. He swallowed the last bites of flatbread, crouched, turned—and saw his aunt, tense and rigid. She saw him too. Both startled, they each leapt back a step.

Murong Qiushui exhaled, extended her pale fingers, and tapped the teenager's forehead. "You little glutton," she scolded,

"I heard noise outside and thought we'd been robbed."

"Turns out it's just you, my greedy little cat."

The boy scratched his head, shed his earlier seriousness, and grinned sheepishly: "I'm hungry."

His gaze flickered to his aunt's loose brown robe with white trim, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, her eyes like morning stars, her hands pale as jade—then, as if nothing had happened, she tossed the iron pot with a missing rim to the side—clang! The boy's lip twitched.

If that had been a thief, he'd already be dead from her pot-swing.

The dented iron pot, swung with full force, carried serious power—thirty-seven petty thieves had already fallen to it. Flawless technique. A woman traveling with a child, no matter how discreet, inevitably drew trouble.

If he'd turned a moment later, he'd have taken a pot to the head too.

Murong Qiushui stepped forward, her eyes scanning Li Guanyi up and down, then smiled: "Did my little fox practice today?"

Li Guanyi froze. "How did you know?"

Murong Qiushui laughed. "I may not understand martial arts, but I know cultivators' appetites swell after mastering internal qi. Besides, my little fox has peerless talent. That Crimson Dragon fellow was blind not to teach you."

She lifted her skirt slightly, skipped lightly to the other side of the cabinet—Li Guanyi's side—and only then did he see her bare feet, white as jade. She must have heard the noise and rushed out without shoes, stepping on the dark earth, walking to the cabinet's side, smoothing her robe's wrinkles before sitting on the ground and patting the spot beside her.

Li Guanyi sat down beside her.

Murong Qiushui frowned. "I said, give me a flatbread too."

The boy blinked. "Aren't you not eating after dark?"

Murong Qiushui coughed lightly. "Got up, got hungry!"

Li Guanyi nearly burst out laughing, shook his head. He'd been careful not to wake her, so he'd settled for cold, hard flatbread—but if she wanted to eat too, he might as well light the stove, boil two bowls of noodles, and crack in two poached eggs.

He'd brought meat and wine every few days to curry favor with General Yue Qianfeng, but their own life was simple. Li Guanyi was a fugitive—even if he had things worth money, he dared not show off. There was no meat left at home.

He brought two bowls of plain noodles, placed a stone beside the cabinet, set one bowl before each of them, and placed a small dish of pickled vegetables between them. "We've no meat left. Make do."

Murong Qiushui suddenly laughed, raised her eyebrows. "But I still have a chicken leg. Want some?"

Li Guanyi raised an eyebrow.

Murong Qiushui pinched a strand of noodles with her chopsticks, twirled them into a large, wide-bottomed, narrow-topped bundle that looked uncannily like a chicken leg. Li Guanyi stared, torn between amusement and exasperation—then she beamed and pointed to a large piece of pickled vegetable. "If that's your chicken leg, mine's a big chunk of braised pork."

"Hey, then mine's roast goose."

Murong Qiushui and Li Guanyi sat beneath the wooden cabinet. The courtyard was worn and shabby.

After her illness, she'd pawned all her jewelry to survive.

This courtyard was bought with her Bai Yu jade pendant—the same one Li Guanyi could tell was extraordinary: oily as fat, smooth as cream, resonant as metal, fine as silk, white as lard, glutinous as paste, engraved with a thousand-handed Guanyin. It had been a gift from her late husband. The pawnshop owner, seeing a frail woman and a child, offered only ten taels of silver.

Li Guanyi had wanted to pull his aunt away at the time, but his aunt calmly said she would do it.

Even Li Guanyi was so angry he was at a loss, but his aunt just patted his hair, smiled, and said that a token could never be as important as a person, then took out half the silver to rent this courtyard, saving the rest for daily expenses.

Even so, the courtyard was dilapidated; apart from the place where people lived, the other rooms leaked in various ways, and on summer days when the rain was heavy, one had to hold out basins to catch the water. Sitting in front of the cabinet, looking up, through the somewhat broken roof, one could see the ink-colored sky and a few stars.

The bowls and chopsticks set aside, Li Guanyi turned his head and saw his aunt with her head lowered, already asleep.

The twelve-year-old boy gripped the sword at his waist.

The touch of the blade was cold, yet so dependable. Li Guanyi said softly, "One day, I will make all the dishes I mentioned today come true."

Li Guanyi picked up his sleeping aunt and carefully carried her back. His aunt was not short, yet she was very light, like a dandelion, as if a single breath of wind would carry her away. When he drew close, he could smell a faint floral fragrance. He laid his aunt back in her room.

The bed was simply piled up from earth mixed with straw, with a layer of dry grass spread on top, and then the bedding. Rainy days and winter would both be very hard to endure.

Li Guanyi tucked the blanket over his aunt and slowly walked back to his own room.

He exhaled, lowered his head, pulled open his clothes, wanting to look at the bronze cauldron on his chest.

But he was slightly startled.

The crimson jade liquid in the cauldron had naturally already vanished, but there was a different change.

On the wall of the bronze cauldron, a crimson azure dragon imprint.

Was plainly visible!

(End of chapter)