Chapter 44: A Letter from Home Is Worth Ten Thousand Gold

Li Guanyi hadn’t slept all night; after lunch, he said he wanted to rest, and Xue Daoyong had assigned him a guest room in the front courtyard’s annex, where he slept soundly for over an hour before regaining his strength, sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching the sunset, his spirit sluggish.

He thought about what he needed to do next.

He placed a silver ingot on the bed.

“Cross the border.”

Then he placed an arrow in front of the silver.

“But it would be better to enter the country… If I could steal an inner armor when crossing the border, that’d be ideal.”

“I also need to deal with the poison on my body.”

“I need the strongest possible foundation for entering the realm.”

“And…”

“Money. Enough money.”

Li Guanyi looked at the irregular silver ingots on the bed and sighed; these were the spoils from last night’s slaughter of Qian Zheng’s remaining gang—thirty-three taels of silver and over a hundred copper coins, some modern Taiping coins, some old Da’an coins from the previous dynasty, all wrapped in cloth.

For his former self, this would’ve been enough, but crossing into Ying Guo and accounting for cultivation expenses, it was clearly insufficient.

Xue Laoyezi hadn’t offered to give him more money.

Li Guanyi felt he had to find a way to get some cash.

He couldn’t keep turning to others, staring helplessly, and shouting for Miss Xue every time something happened.

As he thought, he sorted through the spoils—besides the silver, there were some hemostatic powders, already blackened and reeking, the kind with potent effects but violent medicinal properties, highly irritating.

Aside from that, there were several letters, some yellowed; Li Guanyi opened them—all were family letters. The yellowed one was the earliest, its tone full of complaints.

“Big brother, this winter’s coat was made too slowly. You wrote saying if it wasn’t ready, send money instead, but this year’s taxes were crushing—we only have half. You have military pay; you shouldn’t have spent it all.”

“Just endure the cold for a few days.”

It seemed Qian Zheng had asked his parents to send winter clothes while stationed at the border.

Chen Guo’s border, bordering Ying Guo, lay in a neither-nor region.

Winters were as bitterly cold as the north, yet as damp as the south; when the west wind blew, cotton coats soaked through with moisture, clinging like a layer of ice needles drilling through skin into bone. By fifty or sixty, most border soldiers suffered ruined bones, racked with pain.

But Chen Guo was wealthy—couldn’t even the border troops afford clothes?

Li Guanyi recalled Xue Daoyong’s words and opened the next letter.

“Big brother, don’t keep writing to hurry us. You said the army lacks silver, so Mother borrowed for you. Father worked the fields this winter. Your army and Father’s are supposed to merge—Father’s old; you should be looking after him.”

Third letter.

“We heard your army now answers to Marshal Yue, and you’ve won several battles.”

“The reward silver you sent home made Father happy—he drank a little wine.”

“He’s even arranged a good match for me—second son of Old Liu from the town gate. You used to play with him as a child; do you still remember him?”

“Big brother, you should find me a sister-in-law too.”

The following letters were all mundane household matters, and the one word they couldn’t avoid was tax.

Five-year tax. Three-year tax.

And Qian Zheng, reckless, killing enemies just to earn reward silver.

Li Guanyi paused when he read one letter.

“The imperial court has collected spring taxes again.”

“After collecting the three-year tax last year, you took all your reward silver. We had nothing left, couldn’t borrow anything. Father’s leg was broken—he lay bedridden, then developed sores, the sores rotted, he couldn’t stand, then he died…”

“Father refused to spend money on treatment. He stopped eating and passed away.”

“Big brother, I heard Marshal Yue was reassigned, and Father was punished for confronting his superior—how bad was his injury?”

“I’ve included some copper coins with this letter—use them to treat Father’s wound.”

Fourth letter.

“Father’s gone. Mother wept until she went blind. Old Liu’s family no longer wants me.”

“No choice—the palace eunuchs came to town saying the imperial court still needed servants. I thought the conditions were good, so I went in. I’m sending you part of the money, leaving some with Mother. You said entering the realm would improve things—I’ll wait for you. Don’t worry.”

“It’s good here. No one hits me. No one bullies me.”

Then came the final letter, its surface smooth and delicate.

“Today, maid Qian Qian died. By law, fifty strings of cash must be paid as compensation.”

“With no one to oversee, five strings were spent on her burial, five strings for disruption to palace affairs, thirty strings for outstanding debts, five strings to transfer to the post station, three strings and seven cash for sealing, stamping, and dispatching the letter—remaining one hundred thirty-five cash, transferred to her brother Qian Zheng, to uphold justice.”

Li Guanyi fell silent for a long time.

He saw the splattered bloodstains and watermarks on the letter.

He saw the cloth-wrapped bundle of over a hundred copper coins, polished bright by handling.

That was why he had seen the mad Qian Zheng.

Li Guanyi laid the letter down.

Then he placed the one hundred thirty-five copper coins back into the cloth, wrapped it tightly.

He looked outside, as if thinking.

He finally gathered and suppressed all the chaotic emotions and thoughts swirling in his mind, exhaled, and whispered to himself: the border is decaying, reward silver is scarce, yet soldiers’ families bear crushing taxes—Qian Zheng’s case isn’t normal, but neither is it unique.

Under such conditions, generals and commanders are wronged.

“It’s over.”

No further deduction was needed.

Li Guanyi’s historical intuition struck him like a hammer.

An intense urgency surged—he must raise his realm as soon as possible. If Qian Zheng had broken through into the realm earlier, perhaps the story would’ve been different. No matter how much Li Guanyi had seen, at this moment, entering the realm became his top priority.

In this broken world, without power, he couldn’t even protect himself and his aunt.

He was only skilled in offense—he must defeat the Tielei Third Prince quickly and seize the [Canglang Shou]. When Li Guanyi stepped out of the courtyard, he saw Xue Shuangtao still practicing archery; as he picked up his bow, he suddenly called out to her. The girl looked at him in confusion. Li Guanyi said: “I just said I shot down a crow that fed on human blood and rotting flesh—I was wrong.”

“It was originally a predatory bird of the sky.”

“It went mad because of this sky, and only then began feeding on carrion.”

Xue Shuangtao stared at him.

She stepped back half a pace.

Then she tapped his forehead with her bow and said: “I don’t know what you’re hinting at, but Li Guanyi—”

She paused, then said: “First, practice your archery!”

The girl raised her eyebrows, pointing to the arrows: “Playing the zither calms the heart, and practicing archery steadies the mind. No matter what troubles you, when your body is exhausted, your thoughts become clear.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll practice with you until your mind finds peace.”

While practicing, Xue Shuangtao asked curiously:

“When you shot that vulture, did you feel regret?”

Li Guanyi looked into the girl’s clear eyes, unsure whether she understood something or simply thought he was mourning a bird—so he answered: “It was already a carrion-eating monster.”

So he felt no regret.

He was still a young man in this world, so fleeting thoughts crossed his mind.

Will I, too, one day change into something unrecognizable in this chaos?

He unexpectedly recalled Yaoguang’s words.

“As long as you don’t become the tyrant who stirs up this chaos, I will always stay by your side.”

Arrows flew like rain. Li Guanyi was now learning various bow techniques, not accuracy. Xue Shuangtao, trained since childhood by Xue Daoyong, had superb foundational archery skills—what Li Guanyi lacked.

When the sun dipped low, he set down his bow.

Xue Changqing had already collapsed onto the stone table. Li Guanyi slowly pulled out his mathematical text and began teaching. Another hour passed; Xue Changqing was utterly drained, his face pale: “Could you just tell me another story instead of math? Please.”

Li Guanyi said: “I can tell stories, but I’m here to teach you math.”

Xue Changqing replied: “I’ll pay more!”

He pulled out a small silver ingot and placed it on the table, eyes gleaming: “Master, don’t teach math today—just tell me a story for an hour, as per your salary.”

Li Guanyi pondered, then said: “Then I’ll tell you about the Tielei Third Prince from five hundred years ago.”

Xue Changqing groaned and buried his head: “I don’t want to hear history!”

The boy smiled: “My story’s different.”

He told the tale not like a dry history book, but like a wandering swordsman—drawing from the martial tales he’d heard, portraying the Tielei Third Prince as a great enemy. Even Xue Shuangtao grew curious: “Where did you hear this story?”

The boy smiled shyly: “On my flight from danger, I met two men drinking. One was Jin, the other Gu. They drank and told stories—I learned them listening.”

Xue Shuangtao scoffed: “You’re making it up again.”

Then she crossed her arms and leaned on the table, listening intently.

Xue Changqing said: “Isn’t the Tielei Third Prince a giant three zhang tall, three zhang around, with green face and fangs? That’s not what you described.”

Li Guanyi said: “Good description.”

Xue Changqing beamed: “You’ve never seen him either—maybe I’m right?”

Li Guanyi said: “Then based on your description, here’s a math problem: a log three zhang high and three zhang around—what’s its volume? How many wooden chairs could it make? If split into three-chi-long, two-finger-wide firewood, how many pieces?”

Xue Changqing’s face turned white.

Xue Shuangtao tossed a fruit gently at Li Guanyi: “Don’t scare him—tell the story.”

Li Guanyi smiled faintly and recounted the history of the Tielei Third Prince in a martial-arts style: “The Tielei Third Prince wielded a curved blade—his swordplay light and nimble. He had a thick beard but a handsome face. The histories say he was born of the celestial white wolf.”

Li Guanyi smiled faintly and recounted, in the style of a wuxia tale, the history of the Tielei Third Prince: “The Tielei Third Prince wielded a curved blade, his swordplay light and nimble; he had a large beard but a handsome face, and historical records all say he was an incarnation of the celestial wolf.”

In the story, the man who clashed with the Tielei Third Prince was a swordsman who used a heavy blade. When their blades met, the Tielei Third Prince’s sword danced like a butterfly along the edge, then descended with a dazzling motion.

In the story, the swordsman who clashed with the Tielei Third Prince was a blade-wielder who used a heavy blade; when their blades met head-on, the Tielei Third Prince’s sword danced like a butterfly along the edge, then descended in a dazzling motion.

Under the setting sun, the young man telling a story had black hair stirring slightly in the wind, his eyes warm and imbued with scholarly grace.

His eyes reflected the light of the setting sun.

Cold light mirrored in Li Guanyi’s pupils.

Li Guanyi spun, raised his palm, and crossed his heavy blade against the Tielei Third Prince’s sword.

A clash between swordmaster and swordmaster.

It was the interweaving of a five-hundred-year-old legend with a man of this age; night had fallen, and he had entered this secret realm to challenge the Tielei Third Prince once more. Xue Shen watched with a smile as the boy drew back, evading the dazzling sword dance, gazing at the enemy who had killed him countless times.

“Tielei Third Prince.”

“Today, I will surely defeat you.”

Xue Shen raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Good. Courageous. Shall we raise the stakes? If you can defeat him this time without dying—”

“I will give you another technique, besides the [Canglang Shou], along with my legacy and gift.”

“The very thing the great emperor of old desired.”

“If you lose, I shall write my ‘Zheng’ character upon your body.”

At that moment, the Tielei Third Prince let out a long howl; the Canglang spiritual form emerged, arms crossed, the [Canglang Shou] charging forward in giant strides!

Li Guanyi said to Xue Shen: “Then prepare yourself!”

The bronze tripod rang and trembled.

He gripped his bow.

Thus came the dragon’s roar and tiger’s howl.

Thus, dragons and tigers followed him on either side.

(End of Chapter)