Chapter 30: A Beauty

The green bronze ding’s jade fluid was Li Guanyi’s most vital asset for survival and cultivation.

The last time he accumulated the jade fluid, he poured it into his dantian, enabling him to reach the twelfth layer of the martial sect’s supreme internal art, “The Break Formation Melody,” and master a blade technique; now, this jade fluid had finally accumulated for the second time.

Li Guanyi’s gaze settled on the Cloud-Piercing Thunder Bow.

Recalling what had just happened, he fell into thought.

It seemed that not only could a Law-Phase expert’s Law-Phase martial art complete the final step of jade fluid accumulation—so too could a divine weapon.

But he did not know what changes this pouring of jade fluid might bring.

Perhaps the exertion of wielding that bow had drained him too deeply; Li Guanyi felt a weariness rising from his core, his mind flooded with scattered thoughts that refused to settle, forcing him to suppress them with the bitter taste of tea.

Xue Daoyong did not mention the bow again, but instead spoke of Xue family history, his words witty and amusing, interspersed with perilous anecdotes; finally, he served a simple meal: each person received a bowl of yellow millet porridge, a grilled fish, a few fresh vegetables, some seasoning powder, and one fruit.

Li Guanyi said: “Your lifestyle is remarkably simple.”

The Xue family was a noble household.

Just moments ago, the old man had given away a courtyard and land deeds worth at least five hundred taels without blinking—but now, at mealtime, his food seemed no different from that of common folk, even inferior to the three martial masters at Huichun Hall.

At that moment, he noticed Xue Shuangtao glancing at him, holding back a smile.

Perhaps the mental exhaustion had dulled his perception; only now did Li Guanyi sense something amiss.

He sniffed lightly at the small dish of seasoning powder and said: “This is...”

“Ginseng, atractylodes, poria.”

Having suffered from severe poison for a decade, Li Guanyi had become an amateur physician, constantly handling herbs, and had spent long years in a pharmacy; with two lifetimes of experience and exceptional talent, he needed only to smell to identify the main ingredients, then tasted a spoonful of the millet porridge.

It contained the same herbs, yet their bitterness had been neutralized, leaving a sweet, pleasant flavor.

His blood and qi, along with the inner power of “The Break Formation Melody,” stirred to life.

Even the immense exhaustion from wielding the divine weapon began to ease.

Xue Daoyong smiled and asked: “Well?”

Li Guanyi thought a moment, then replied: “Rehmannia nourishes essence and fills marrow; ginseng tonifies the spleen and boosts qi, nourishing blood—these are the sovereign herbs.”

“Atractylodes and poria assist ginseng in boosting qi; angelica and white peony nourish blood and harmonize the camp—these are the minister herbs.”

“Chuanxiong is the assistant herb, activating blood and moving qi; licorice is the envoy herb, tonifying qi, harmonizing the center, and balancing all ingredients.”

"Old Master, this meal is an excellent tonic for both blood and qi."

The old man was momentarily surprised, then laughed, turning to the girl beside him: “See? You’ve thrown your coquettish glances at a blind man—wasted effort. Good things require guests who can appreciate their worth; only then is the host-guest exchange truly fulfilling. Unlike your brother and brother, who only ever say ‘delicious.’”

“Or else: ‘More porridge, please.’”

“Like a cow chewing peonies—vulgar and ruinous.”

As he spoke, he looked up and saw the boy had already devoured the millet porridge—no larger than a large pill yet gentle on the body—in three or four bites. Seeing the old man stunned, the boy smiled and deliberately said: "Then, Old Master, I shall be vulgar once more."

“Another bowl.”

The old man burst into loud laughter.

He grew even more fond of the boy.

Then he refused without hesitation: “A hundred-year mountain ginseng, fish from Tianchi Lake—these are beneficial to martial cultivators, even I rarely bring them out to entertain guests. Do you think I have enough to spare for you?”

“You’ve got quite the appetite.”

Li Guanyi felt regret.

He had wanted to bring some home for his aunt.

Watching the once-calm young master now eat like a glutton, the girl finally burst into laughter, feeling he wasn’t so hard to read after all; she thought a moment, then pushed her bowl forward and said: “I haven’t touched mine—take it, if you don’t mind.”

She added quickly: “But the fish is off-limits.”

Li Guanyi tasted the fish—it was indeed exquisitely tender. The old man had warned that the fish was raised on herbs, beneficial to martial cultivators but dangerously potent for the weak; Li Guanyi finished it and said: “Truly delicious.”

“If I could eat meals like this every day, I’d be content.”

Xue Daoyong laughed heartily: “Hahahaha! You’re trying to eat me into ruin!”

“Good!”

“If you break through within three years, come here—I’ll feed you one meal a day.”

“If you break through within a year, you can eat every meal.”

“I’ll sell the pots and pans to feed you.”

The meal ended in mutual delight; Xue Shuangtao led Li Guanyi out of the Listening Wind Pavilion. She glanced at his clothes and said: “You’re now a guest minister—your clothing, food, and necessities will follow the main family’s standard. It’s late today, so come with me to collect new clothes, weapons, and pills.”

She paused, slightly embarrassed, yet striving to maintain her casual composure, and added:

“You must come early tomorrow.”

“I’ll teach you footwork and archery.”

Li Guanyi nodded.

First, they went to collect weapons. In these turbulent times, with constant warfare and shifting alliances, the court had relaxed controls on certain weapons—swords, knives, wooden shields, and bows requiring long cultivation—but remained extremely strict on armor, crossbows, and long spears exceeding twelve feet for formation use.

The former were for personal protection in daily life.

The latter were different.

Xue Shuangtao took Li Guanyi to the Xue family’s private armory within their estate.

She pointed to the weapons inside and said: “These knives come in three types: the lightest, fastest blade; the narrowest, longest thrusting knife, capable of piercing and slicing; and the heavy blade—all forged from hundred-fold refined iron, differing only in material from famous weapons of the martial world.”

Based on the characteristics of the Eight Break Army Blades, Li Guanyi chose a solid, jet-black heavy blade.

Its blade was thick, its center of gravity perfect, ideal for chopping and slashing.

The scabbard was dark ironwood inlaid with copper, engraved with tiger-roar patterns.

The smith glanced and said: “A three-hundred-fold heavy blade—nearly equal to famed martial weapons. Price: ninety-seven strings. The scabbard is premium dark-patterned ironwood, treated to resist worms and rust, inlaid with brass, with a hollowed tail for storing pills. Scabbard alone: four strings and three cash. Total: one hundred and one strings. As a guest minister, you pay only seventy strings.”

Guest ministers received fine weapons, but still paid for materials and labor.

This channel was beyond the reach of ordinary martial artists; many in the martial world wielded swords forged by village blacksmiths—iron scraps with wooden planks as scabbards—venturing into the world.

Even Li Guanyi had to admit it was a bargain.

But he himself had only three taels of silver on him.

He fell silent, cradling the blade, and looked at the girl.

Xue Shuangtao waved casually: “Just put it under my name.”

The smith was startled, glanced at the handsome young man, then at the young mistress, filled with suspicion, but nodded: “Very well. Then it’s under the young mistress’s name.”

Xue Shuangtao nodded and led Li Guanyi to select a bow.

The bow’s draw weight needed to be just beyond Li Guanyi’s current strength—challenging but manageable—and its length suited the boy’s height; the girl swiftly tested several bows, finally selecting three that matched him.

A bow is made of six materials: dry wood, horn, tendon, glue, silk, and lacquer.

The first bow used purple bamboo, highly resilient, with yellow ox horn on the inner limb and ox tendon on the outer limb, enhancing elasticity and increasing arrow speed.

Price: thirty strings.

Li Guanyi asked what glue bound the materials.

The middle-aged man smiled: “Shu rat.”

“Made by boiling the muscle and skin of rats from Shu—strong adhesive.”

“Mainly because it’s cheap. Of course, if you prefer, we have others.”

The second bow used yi wood for the limbs, combined with mo-feng horn, horse tendon, and fish glue.

Its power was solid and dense, requiring two years to craft—price: one hundred and ten strings.

This bow cost more than the sword now at the boy’s waist.

Li Guanyi was about to speak of the cheapest bow when the girl pointed to the highest shelf: “Take down that one.”

Li Guanyi saw the bow’s wood, its body woven with golden threads.

The horn on its inner limb measured two feet five inches, with three colors: pure white, middle blue-green, and end-rich.

The three colors followed clear order.

Li Guanyi knew nothing of bows—but he recognized quality.

This thing was expensive.

The middle-aged manager praised: “Young mistress, your eye is sharp!”

“This bow took fifteen years to make: winter for drying the stave, spring for shaping the horn, summer for preparing the tendon, autumn for assembling all materials, then winter again to set its form in a frame. Made from zhe wood—ten zhe trees, nine hollow, nine crooked—its core contains golden threads like silk, extremely resilient.”

“Combined with rhino horn, crocodile tendon, and shark glue from the South Sea.”

“But its draw strength is immense—nearly impossible to fully pull.”

“Price: one thousand five hundred and thirty strings.”

Li Guanyi’s eye twitched.

How much?! He chose his words carefully: “I think... it’s too expensive.”

Xue Shuangtao shook her head: “Grandfather said a bow, like a sword or knife, is a matter of life and death. A slightly stronger stave may prevent snapping under repeated shots; greater elasticity means faster arrows. That tiny edge may mean the difference between life and death.”

“Everything else can be compromised—but not this. Not a single step back.”

“Take down this bow.”

The manager bowed: “Yes, young mistress.”

Xue Shuangtao gripped the bow, nocked an arrow with casual ease, barely drawing it full, stepped forward, her aura sharp as ice, and loosed the arrow—it pierced a tree trunk as thick as two arms. Her hair fluttered, revealing her pale chin and almond eyes; she nodded in satisfaction:

“Hmm. Put it under my name.”

“I remember Grandfather gave me a shop when I was ten. The profits over these years should cover it.”

“Here, Master—your bow.”

She saw Li Guanyi freeze.

She reached out, cupped his wrist and sleeve, lifted his hand, and gently placed the bow into his palm: “Since ancient times, beauties have gifted swords to heroes. I am no beauty—but I believe Grandfather’s words: you, Master, will one day be a hero.”

"I present this Su Ni bow to you, Master."

Li Guanyi: "…………"

"Thank you."

He glanced at the knife at his waist, holding a bow.

He saw the young girl ahead, her hands clasped behind her back, smiling faintly.

Li Guanyi thought.

The young mistress’s charm was unmatched in the world.

At this moment, an elderly man with white hair had arrived at Guanyi City.

He easily shed the imperial trackers and his junior disciples, saying, "Young Master Zu has not yet arrived; let us stroll for a while."

"See if anything interesting is happening. What do you say, old friend?"

He smiled with lowered eyes, and in the space invisible to ordinary eyes beside him, a colossal Xuan Turtle bowed its head.

The eldest living master of Yin-Yang philosophy, the Si Ming.

He had come as invited.

(End of Chapter)