Chapter 43: Wen Cheng Wu Jiu!

Xue Daoyong spoke of that bold matter as if it meant nothing, merely pointing at the chessboard, his tone distinctly different from usual: “Come, come, Guanyi, let’s finish this game, then you’ll go train archery with Shuangtao.”

Li Guanyi nodded, his young face softening.

“Yes, I’ll follow Grandpa’s advice.”

The old man and the boy smiled at each other.

No need to restate their earlier agreement—these two terms of address were enough to make their mutual understanding clear.

They reset the board, each taking black and white. The elder, famed for thirty years of invincibility across Guan and Yi, played with calm composure, discussing other matters as he moved: “Military ranks aren’t hard to handle—ninth-rank military officers may only don armor when carrying out their assigned duties.”

“But your duty is to patrol the regions and hunt down fugitives.”

“The schedule is flexible, so you may wear armor whenever you wish. Unfortunately, armor is strictly hierarchical: at your rank, you’re limited to light armor—tanned leather with only key areas reinforced by metal. Still, armor is armor.”

“With your martial skill, clad in armor and wielding a heavy blade—”

“You can charge into a group of unarmored enemies and cut through them without restraint.”

“Even if a foreign martial artist is present, with their newly formed inner qi, they’ll struggle to pierce your armor and land a fatal blow. As for ordinary men, ten or twenty surrounding you won’t help unless you exhaust your strength or have your legs entangled and pulled down, then a dagger stabs your throat.”

“As for higher-grade armor… it’s entirely different.”

The old man sighed: “The imperial armor of Ying Guo can dissipate all force—no matter how heavy the hammer strike, it won’t harm its wearer. But our Chen Guo royal armor can withstand direct blows from divine weapons.”

“Legend says the Duke of Chen once sparred with my ancestor and survived being struck by my ancestor’s Cloud-Piercing Heaven-Breaking Bow.”

“Slightly inferior to the Emperor’s armor are the protective armors of the Guardian Generals, which manifest atop their Dharma Forms—when attacking, the Dharma Form dons armor and wields divine weapons, unstoppable. Then come the armors of various generals, whose inner qi flows over the armor as if through their own bodies.”

“Each has its own marvel: some are as light as paper yet indestructible; some harness storm-force; others naturally draw in heavenly qi, ensuring endless, unceasing inner qi circulation.”

“The intricacies are countless, worthy of being called treasures. As for the border troops’ armor, it differs from single-combat armor: their qi flows beyond the armor, linking the entire unit into one unbreakable whole, as hard as iron.”

“If Qian Zheng wore armor, you might not defeat him unscathed.”

Li Guanyi listened intently.

Then he played casually.

The old man stared at his moves, his expression growing grave.

Earlier he had lounged lazily, but now he sat up straight.

He studied the board and said: “It’s a pity—military ranks only hold value within one nation. Do you know what is universally recognized across this world?”

Li Guanyi thought: “Martial power?”

The old man said: “Martial skill is one of three.”

“Martial skill, literary fame, and gold. Those with martial skill are heroes and warriors; those with literary fame are masters and sages; wealth makes one a merchant tycoon; but those who command renown across the land, possess martial skill, yet scorn a thousand gold pieces—they are the immortal scholars.”

“In times of peace, scholars hold little value. But now, in chaos, every nation, from the imperial courts down to noble clans, scrambles to attract scholars and recruit great talents.”

“Thus, official posts only grant influence within one region or nation, but literary fame lets you travel the world freely—even beyond borders, no one will stop you.”

“If you committed a grave crime in Chen Guo but held great renown across the land, Ying Guo, Tuyuhun, and Turkic tribes would offer even greater incentives to keep you—this is like a ‘trade’ or ‘suppression’ between great powers, one of the ten strategies to win over the world’s talents.”

“I can even employ an enemy’s wanted fugitive with lavish treatment—how much more so a virtuous, untainted genius?”

Li Guanyi said: “A thousand gold for a dead horse’s bones.”

The old man was startled, then praised: “Precisely.”

He stroked his beard and smiled:

“Rest assured—I’ve bet on you, so I’ll find you a master to elevate your literary fame, snap the chains binding this dragon, and let you soar into the heavens.”

Li Guanyi bowed in thanks: “Thank you, Xue Lao.”

He placed a stone, then withdrew his finger.

“You’ve lost.”

The old man slowly lowered his gaze to the board, his smile gradually freezing.

“Hm?”

………………

Xue Shuangtao waited for the young guest-attendant at the training ground today. She always arrived early; today she’d already emptied two quivers of practice arrows, her forehead lightly beaded with sweat. Even Xue Changqing had risen to practice archery, yet Li Guanyi had not appeared.

Frowning slightly, she asked a maid and learned Li Guanyi had arrived early and gone to Tingfeng Pavilion.

She wiped her sweat with a silk cloth, placed her bow on the rack, and hurried toward Tingfeng Pavilion. From afar, she heard the clack of stones on the board. Her brow furrowed—she knew her grandfather’s chess was ruthless. Though most Go masters rose to fame young, her grandfather, though aged, played with steady, unyielding precision.

He was famed as undefeated in Guan and Yi for thirty years.

She’d always preferred arithmetic over chess precisely because she’d been crushed by him in countless games.

Now she realized: Li Guanyi must have been dragged into a game. She pushed open the door and saw the boy turn to her, rising to greet her, while the old man reached out and seized the guest-attendant’s sleeve, exclaiming: “No! One more game! Just one more!”

Xue Shuangtao stepped forward, one hand gripping her grandfather’s wrist, the other clutching Li Guanyi’s sleeve, then pulled firmly, prying his grip loose, stepping between them, and glaring at the old man with wide, indignant eyes: “Grandpa, how can you do this? Always bullying the young—winning a game and still refusing to let him go!”

The old man was speechless, stung.

I’m bullying him?

I’m bullying him?! It’s this boy bullying this old man!

But he couldn’t say he’d lost eighteen games in a row, each defeat more humiliating than the last.

The boy blinked, then casually scattered the stones across the board: “Grandpa’s chess is superb—I’ve lost many times. He got so caught up in the game, he thought time was still early, so he held me back.”

Xue Daoyong blinked, then resumed his usual demeanor: “Hah… ha! Guanyi, your chess isn’t bad at all. Yes, yes—worthy of instruction, worthy of instruction.”

Li Guanyi rose smoothly: “Then, Grandpa, I’ll take my leave.”

“I’ll come again for another game.”

“Hahaha, good, good—your chess is excellent. Come often, come often.”

Li Guanyi and Xue Shuangtao stepped out of Tingfeng Pavilion. Xue Shuangtao asked curiously: “When did you become so close to Grandpa?”

Li Guanyi said: “We played chess.”

Li Guanyi smiled but didn’t answer her question; they went to the training ground to shoot arrows. During a break, Li Guanyi thought of the twenty arrows he’d exhausted, and as he nocked another, he said, “Miss, if we run out of arrows, can we get more?”

Li Guanyi smiled but didn’t answer. They went to the training ground to practice archery. During a break, Li Guanyi thought of the twenty arrows he’d shot, and as he nocked another, he asked: “Miss, can we replace the arrows when they’re used up?”

Xue Shuangtao pierced an arrow target, raised an eyebrow: “Used up?”

“Did you go hunting?”

Li Guanyi said: “Yes.”

Li Guanyi picked up his quiver and handed it over. Xue Shuangtao took an arrow, placing it on the pad of her index finger. Seeing that the arrow no longer balanced as easily as before, and noticing the fletching was damaged and warped, she exclaimed, “You must’ve hit quite a few game animals—what did you get?”

Li Guanyi handed her his quiver. She took an arrow, balanced it on her fingertip—its equilibrium was off, the fletching damaged and twisted. She was startled: “You must’ve hit many beasts. Any good haul?”

Li Guanyi said quietly: “Just crows—feeding on human flesh and rot.”

“Too ugly to bring back for you to see.”

Xue Shuangtao looked disappointed.

Xue Daoyong doted on his granddaughter, yet never let her hunt alone.

He allowed her to leave the city only for spring outings—riverbank banquets, poetry, and songs.

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, recalling how he’d picked up a few stones by the stream. He pulled them from his robe—they were river-worn pebbles, smoothed by water, each with a different hue, translucent and gleaming. “Those birds aren’t worth watching,” he said, “but these stones look beautiful when placed in water.”

Li Guanyi thought of the stones he’d picked up by the stream, pulled them from his robe: smooth river pebbles, polished by water, each with unique luster, translucent as jewels. “Those birds are too ugly to show you, but these stones—when placed in water, look beautiful.”

He let go, and the stones landed in the girl’s palm, translucent and gemlike.

He opened his hand; the stones fell into her palm, glowing like gems.

Xue Shuangtao blinked. “You want me to refill your quiver?”

Li Guanyi stiffened.

Since they were the same age and had trained and studied together for some time, their relationship had changed from the initial dynamic of the gentle young lady and the refined, quiet guest scholar—they were now more like peers. The girl tossed one of the stones in her hand and teased, “That price won’t do.”

They were the same age, trained and studied together for some time. Their relationship had shifted from polite lady and quiet guest to something more like peers. She tossed the stones in her hand, teasing: “Your price isn’t enough, you know.”

“My esteemed guest-attendant.”

“One arrow costs a tael of silver—more than you earn in a month at Huichun Hall.”

Xue Changqing bristled: “What’s the big deal, you tigress!”

He waved his chubby hands: “I’ll add money!”

Xue Shuangtao burst out laughing, bent down, and ruffled her brother’s hair: “Alright, alright, you’re the strongest, okay?”

Then she turned to Li Guanyi: “You’re already a guest-attendant—you can buy arrows with your stipend, much cheaper. Have you spent all your money?”

Li Guanyi was penniless; the old man had placed a bet on him but hadn’t given him any cash.

Xue Shuangtao sighed: “Fine, fine—after all, our esteemed guest-attendant remembered to bring a gift for this humble girl. How could I hurt the great master’s feelings? Here, here…”

She’d meant to tease, but by the end, even she couldn’t suppress her laughter.

The chief smith of the mansion stared oddly as the handsome young man was brought back by the young mistress.

Again for arrows.

Again, the cost charged to her account.

The smith eyed the handsome youth and said: “Show me your arrows—how did they get this damaged?”

Li Guanyi stepped before Xue Shuangtao and handed over the arrows. The smith, full of suspicion, looked—and his eyes sharpened instantly.

Killing arrows! He snapped his head up, staring at the thirteen-year-old boy.

The boy said softly: “I killed some wild dogs, wolves, and crows that fed on corpses.”

“I just came from Tingfeng Pavilion.”

He turned to fetch a new quiver of arrows. Li Guanyi thanked him, and as a seasoned archer who had killed men, he picked up an arrow to test its balance—then froze, his fingers brushing the fine blood groove and feeling the barbs on the shaft.

He turned and fetched a new quiver. Li Guanyi thanked him. As he picked up an arrow, testing its weight like a seasoned archer, he froze—his fingers brushed the fine blood groove, felt the barbs.

The smith said: “You should be using arrows like these.”

Li Guanyi thanked him.

…………

[101] In Tingfeng Pavilion, the old man stared at the chessboard, then summoned scrolls listing the most prominent Confucian scholars near Chen Guo’s capital. Eventually, he found one among them—not the most renowned, but the most unusual.

Wang Tong, styled Wenzhongzi.

He had over a thousand disciples, most of them ordinary; among them, the three most outstanding had no fame at all.

Fang Qiao of the Fang clan of Qinghe.

Du Keming of the Du clan of Jingzhao.

Wei Xuancheng of Quyang.

Yet all three were only seventeen or eighteen years old, merely somewhat known—nothing compared to the prodigies on the official lists. But Wang Tong was extraordinary: in this age of competing schools, he was the first to propose the unity of the Three Teachings, showing remarkable insight.

For some reason, he had suddenly come to Guan Yicheng, saying he wished to take disciples… Such a great scholar naturally received a letter of tribute from the Xue family, which bore the names of Xue Shuangtao and Xue Changqing. He sat in silence for a long while, then crossed out his grandson Xue Changqing’s name and wrote another name in its place.

Li Guanyi.

Xue Daoyong put down his brush.

“With literary achievement and martial prowess, let this old man’s withered bones become the wind that sweeps the heavens. Li Guanyi, let me see how far you can fly.” He finished the tribute letter, closed his eyes, and though there was not a ripple on the lotus pond outside Tingfeng Pavilion, he seemed already to hear—

The roaring wind.

(End of Chapter)