Chapter 6: Teach You a Marvelous Art

The tail of the crimson dragon filling the entire temple coiled around the man’s knees; the farther the dragon’s body extended toward its tail, the more transparent it became, making the man appear to Li Guanyi as both god and demon.

This crimson dragon, divine in appearance, was not real.

Only Li Guanyi, through the power of the bronze cauldron’s imprint, could glimpse fragments of it.

Until a month ago, when he met this man, the bronze cauldron on Li Guanyi’s body—silent for ten years—began to reveal its peculiar nature: the frequent poison attacks were suppressed, and he gained the special ocular ability to see this dragon with his own eyes.

On one hand, he was dying from poison; on the other, the bronze cauldron’s anomaly was suppressing it—Li Guanyi naturally seized this chance.

The shimmering light in Li Guanyi’s eyes faded, and the dragon’s phantom vanished; he feigned seeing only an ordinary beggar, then knelt on the mat in the mountain shrine, placing the roasted chicken, steamed buns, and wine he had bought in orderly rows, before clasping his hands and bowing devoutly toward the shrine statue.

For the past month, he pretended to frequently come here to worship the mountain god, leaving behind the wine and meat he brought—none of it taken away—each time consumed entirely by this extraordinary man, who appeared every two or three days, staying only the length of one incense stick.

He maintained a balance: allowing the jade liquid within the bronze cauldron to gradually accumulate, without arousing excessive suspicion from the man.

He acted like a devout boy from the city, never uttering a single word to the man.

He planned to slowly draw closer, grow naturally familiar, and then gain the chance to awaken the bronze cauldron from this giant.

But now, there was likely no time for such patience.

After completing his usual prayers, Li Guanyi thought of the cloud patterns that appeared in his recurring nightmares, and of the turning point this man had brought him in the past month—he made his decision. Still kneeling on the mat, he suddenly spoke: “Today, red-clad cavalrymen in beast-pattern robes came to the pharmacy with a young man whose sleeve bore cloud patterns.”

“They claimed a prisoner had escaped, and stole the medicinal herbs the prisoner had requested.”

“They also posted a notice offering five hundred taels of silver to anyone who provided information to the yamen.”

“I hope this matter passes quickly, and the pharmacy returns to normal.”

The giant seated there finally opened his eyes slowly.

Li Guanyi seemed to hear a low, deadly dragon’s roar, and instinctively lifted his head.

Without any qi from the bronze cauldron flooding his senses, his vision split into two worlds: one of the ruined, crumbling mountain shrine; the other ablaze with crimson light, swirling clouds, where the immense, ancient dragon’s head pressed against the boy’s forehead, making his black hair sway slightly.

The clouds suddenly dispersed, the crimson dragon’s eyes flared with fire—then shattered by a towering figure.

The tall beggar stepped forth from the clouds.

The dragon surged around him.

Within Li Guanyi’s chest, the progress of the crimson jade liquid in the bronze cauldron surged forward abruptly.

These phenomena were invisible to the naked eye.

The jade liquid inside the bronze cauldron rose rapidly; the beggar stared at the boy before him.

Over these days, he had secretly observed Li Guanyi: at their first meeting, the boy was frail and gentle, yet brought him food and drink; the first time could have been kindness, but when he once complained of unbearable thirst, the next day the boy returned with a flask of wine—he knew this boy was either too kind to the point of foolishness,

Or clever enough to recognize his strength and had some hidden motive.

Yet even so, he had not initiated a single word of conversation for a full month.

Only today did he speak up—yet he spoke to the shrine god, not directly to him, pretending he merely overheard the cavalry and was offering a normal prayer, careful, calculating, calm and unhurried.

The beggar inwardly approved, then let out a bold laugh, bowed deeply, and said: “For the past month, thank you, young brother, for bringing me wine and meat to satisfy my hunger.”

“And now you’ve gone out of your way to deliver me this news—but judging by the situation, we can’t stay here any longer.”

The beggar sighed, sat down, tore off a chicken leg, and devoured it with large bites, then lifted a flask and swallowed the wine in great gulps; the fat chicken and ten large steamed buns—enough for an ordinary family—were devoured clean in a flash.

When finished, he picked at his teeth with a chicken bone and said: “Full. Full.”

Then he sighed: “I am wounded, and I don’t want to fight these bastards head-on. I’d prefer no one knew I was here—I probably can’t stay long. You brought me this news, and I can’t ignore your kindness. Here—these past days you’ve brought me wine and meat; take this.”

The beggar pulled from his robe a night pearl the size of a thumb and handed it to Li Guanyi, boldly saying:

“I didn’t bring gold or silver—this pearl’s worth something. Take it!”

Li Guanyi saw the pearl, round and gleaming, knew its value exceeded a thousand taels, yet shook his head. The beggar froze, then burst into laughter: “My mistake—if you were greedy, you’d have turned me in to the authorities long ago for the five hundred taels. That silver would’ve been safer than my pearl—you wouldn’t have to worry about being investigated.”

Li Guanyi shook his head again.

“I want it.”

“But I can’t protect it.”

“Taking it would only bring trouble.”

The beggar, intrigued, said: “Can’t protect it? Oh? So you mean you want something else from me?”

“Hahahaha! Tell me—what do you want?”

Li Guanyi nodded, weighing countless thoughts in his mind: the crimson dragon’s form was tied to the bronze cauldron—he couldn’t reveal that; the origin of the poison involved the escape and slaughter ten years ago—he couldn’t expose that either. Finally, Li Guanyi lifted his head and spoke, his words brief and direct:

“I want to learn martial arts from you!”

In his eyes, he glimpsed the crimson dragon, and a deep longing rose within him.

That rain-soaked night ten years ago still rained in his heart; the cavalry’s cloud patterns haunted him like a shadow—he longed for the strength to protect himself and his aunt, yet he was poisoned, and his only hope lay in the bronze cauldron, and in this man who could awaken its change.

The beggar studied Li Guanyi’s eyes, then grinned broadly.

In a flash, he appeared behind Li Guanyi.

He placed a hand on Li Guanyi’s shoulder, squeezed his arm and back, raised an eyebrow, and said: “Your bone structure is surprisingly good—but you’ve been poisoned?”

“The poison has corroded your sinews and bones—likely lowered your foundation by more than one tier.”

“Hmph, your back’s badly injured—did those Chen Guo Night Riders’ cavalrymen do this?”

“A bunch of bullying, worthless brutes.”

He tapped Li Guanyi’s back lightly; a gentle qi surged into his body, and the bruising vanished instantly. The beggar sat cross-legged before Li Guanyi, arms folded, fingers gently stroking his beard, frowning slightly as he studied the boy.

His bone structure was only slightly above average, but his mind was unusually sharp, subtle, and measured.

At this age, it was astonishing.

Yet taking a disciple and passing on one’s art was no ordinary matter.

His knowledge was vast and all reached the highest levels; he could easily toss out one technique—but his nature was bold, and he could not do something so casual. Yet teaching a true martial art was certainly not a simple thing.

Moreover, this child…

He glanced at the stains on Li Guanyi’s clothes and knew the boy had offered no resistance at all. That wasn’t the point—the stains revealed that after being thrown onto the table by the cavalrymen, the boy had immediately rolled over and pressed his face to the ground.

Everyone fears death.

That is human nature.

The more intelligent and perceptive one is, the more one clings to life.

But warriors are different—warriors need three parts ferocity! This cautious, clever boy had talent, yet lacked that three-part savagery—he was unsuited to his path. Yet encountering such a boy at this moment stirred a flicker of admiration. He would not rush to take a disciple—he decided to test him, and said:

“The Night Riders’ henchmen have found me. I cannot stay here long.”

“Tomorrow I leave. For now, I’ll scout the area. If you truly wish to learn martial arts, tonight is Ghost Festival—come here at midnight to find me!”

This place was remote. Though Chen Guo’s Yicheng had no curfew, a timid child would never dare venture alone to a mountain shrine at midnight on Ghost Festival to meet a fugitive. If this boy could do it, he would have some courage—and then, before leaving, why not teach him one technique?

The giant made his decision:

“I will teach you a wondrous art!”

(End of Chapter)