Chapter 9: What Is Martial Arts?

In the rain-soaked night, under the moonlight, a youth holding a short sword, blood slowly tracing down his still slightly childish face, formed a shocking scene; Yue Qianfeng's eyes widened slightly, while Li Guanyi still gripped the short sword, his gaze fixed on Yue Qianfeng.

Only the patter of rain broke the silence.

Li Guanyi's breathing was steady.

He had never imagined he would find himself in such a situation.

He had come at midnight to find the beggar for the antidote and the bronze cauldron, yet he never expected to stumble upon the Yunwen cavalry's nighttime ambush and slaughter of Yue Qianfeng, nor the reversal where Yue Qianfeng turned the tables—and least of all had he anticipated the Yunwen cavalry revealing Yue Qianfeng's conspiracy.

Though now, by killing that Yunwen cavalryman, he stood on the same side as the giant.

Yet Li Guanyi still had no full confidence in his own safety.

Even so, his expression remained calm as he stared at the giant; the air grew cold, nearly frozen, rain pelting his body—until a booming laugh shattered the atmosphere.

Yue Qianfeng looked at the youth before him as if watching a young tiger tensed and ready to pounce; he flipped his long blade into the ground and burst into laughter, his eyes brimming with admiration.

"Good lad! Good killing aura! Good decisiveness! Good ferocity!"

"A true accomplice!"

"I underestimated you!"

He praised him repeatedly, then opened his hand—Li Guanyi's short sword suddenly appeared in Yue Qianfeng's grip. Li Guanyi had wrapped a layer of cloth around the hilt and blade, concealing the four inscriptions on both sides, leaving only a blade shimmering like blue mist.

It was this very blade that had pierced through the Yunwen cavalry's famed Night-Run armor, armor so tough even a tiger's claws could not scratch it—yet beneath its edge, it had crumbled like tofu.

Yue Qianfeng lowered his internal Qi defense and brushed his thumb along the blade's edge.

No pain, only a tickle—but when he lifted his thumb, a drop of crimson blood fell from it; Yue Qianfeng sighed: "Truly a top-tier treasure. No wonder it pierced the Night-Run armor."

"It rivals the ninety-seven legendary swords of the Murong family almost equally."

He flipped the short sword back into Li Guanyi's scabbard and laughed: "I won't ask where you got this sword. It's your secret. Everyone has secrets. Nothing unusual."

"But such a short blade isn't meant for men to kill enemies with."

"Its blade is too thin, its edge too narrow. It's less a weapon of war, more a tool for noblewomen to end their lives in final desperation, to avoid dishonor. The one who gave you this sword must have valued you more than herself."

Li Guanyi gently traced his fingers along the blade, his sharp brows softening slightly.

In his eyes, the crimson dragon, once blazing like fire, now had its blood-red hue gradually fading.

Yue Qianfeng's killing intent had dissipated; he laughed loudly: "Then, accomplice little brother, we've got accomplice business to attend to." He pointed at the fallen cavalryman; rain fell, yet the stench of blood remained thick. Li Guanyi exhaled a deep breath and nodded.

Destroy the bodies. Hide the evidence.

Li Guanyi sheathed his sword at his waist, then dragged the corpse of the Night-Run cavalryman who had discovered his identity, his eyes still wide in death, piling the bodies together. The feel of flesh and blood reminded Li Guanyi once more: he was a fugitive who had survived ten years of Night-Run cavalry pursuit, and carried a deadly poison.

He was still just a child, poisoned, his life hanging by a thread, his strength insufficient.

He could barely drag one corpse before gasping for breath.

Only now did his wrist suddenly ache with dull, swollen pain—he must have twisted it from overexertion when stabbing the Night-Run cavalryman.

The cold night rain washed over him, sapping his warmth bit by bit; after moving a while, he felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Suddenly, the weight vanished—the Night-Run cavalryman's corpse was lifted effortlessly by Yue Qianfeng and tossed aside, all bodies now piled together, a gruesome sight. Li Guanyi felt a primal urge to vomit, his right hand clawing at his thigh, forcing himself to suppress it.

Yue Qianfeng had been watching Li Guanyi all along, speaking casually: "First time killing someone, it's like this."

"Vomiting helps."

After a long while, Li Guanyi replied: "No."

Yue Qianfeng asked: "Why hold it in?"

Li Guanyi thought of what he'd seen since arriving in this world, and whispered: "I must get used to it. Compared to me—or someone I care about—being killed and left here like this, this is far better. So I must learn true supreme martial arts."

Yue Qianfeng grinned, growing even more satisfied with the boy; he nodded. He'd originally planned to dispose of the bodies without involving the child—but now he saw no need. Suddenly remembering something, he stepped forward, rummaging through the corpses, soon pulling out a pile of small items.

He pointed at the bodies: "Remember—check the hidden pockets in the sleeves, the satchels. Search everywhere."

"You never know what might be useful."

He tossed a pouch to Li Guanyi—it was heavy. Inside were healing herbs and pills; Yue Qianfeng said casually: "Bury these somewhere. Wait a few months, when the heat dies down, dig them up. Then you can use them slowly."

Yue Qianfeng casually tore a waterskin from a dead Night-Run cavalryman, wiped it roughly, then leaned against the great pillar of the mountain shrine, tilting his head back to drink beneath the moonlight. Beside him lay the piled corpses, swords and blades stuck upright, crimson blood trickling down the road, slowly seeping into the mud.

The moonlight bathed the earth, cold and stark as a forest of bones.

The giant sat cross-legged, drinking heartily; seeing the boy sorting and identifying the herbs, he lifted his waterskin and tossed it over—no concealment, blunt and open: "My name is Yue Qianfeng. Thirty days ago, I was General Zhenwei of the Chen Kingdom. What's your name, boy?"

Li Guanyi tilted his head back and drank deeply.

Moonlight like bone. Two drinkers.

After a pause, he answered: "I'm Li Guanyi. Just an apprentice in a pharmacy."

The giant laughed: "Good courage!"

"You want to learn martial arts from me—not just to protect yourself, but also to ease your poison?"

"Hah, easy to guess. I don't know medicine, but I know this: arsenic in small doses is medicine, in large doses, poison. There's also wind-oil ointment—deadly to mosquitoes, harmless to humans—because the human body is far stronger than a mosquito's."

"The poison that kills you has no effect on me."

"Because my blood and Qi are vast, my physique robust—far beyond yours. If you train martial arts and refine Qi, your body and blood will naturally strengthen. That poison now lethal to you? Then you'll suppress it easily, even expel it with powerful internal Qi."

"I promised you. A true man keeps his word. Come here."

Yue Qianfeng motioned Li Guanyi forward, then pulled out a heavy bracer taken from the Night-Run cavalry captain and placed it in his hands—it felt like iron. Yue Qianfeng smiled: "Hold it steady."

Then he slapped his palm against the bracer.

A dull click sounded—the recoil nearly shattered Li Guanyi's arm. Raindrops shattered into mist as a shadow streaked through the air, piercing straight through the shrine's thick wooden pillar, then into the hall. A muffled groan followed—and a man in black clothing tumbled down.

Beneath his black robe lay a black soft armor, now pierced through, blood oozing out, staining the fabric dark red. He stared at the two men in disbelief, kneeling half-fallen.

The rain mist slowly cleared. Yue Qianfeng stood beside Li Guanyi, his hand resting on his shoulder:

"Remember this: the world's spies are never just the ones you see."

"There's always a second layer, waiting for the target to lower their guard—or to pass on intelligence."

Li Guanyi stared at the kneeling black-clad man. Yue Qianfeng had been sitting with his back turned—nothing had happened. He asked: "Why didn't he ambush you?"

Yue Qianfeng replied coolly: "Because he was afraid."

"Because he knows that he is not worthy of being my opponent."

"Li Guanyi, pick up the blade."

Beneath the rainy night, the blade Yue Qianfeng had just driven point-first into the earth sang out. Li Guanyi loosened his fingers, rested them on the hilt, and Yue Qianfeng's broad palm closed over Li Guanyi's hand, making him grip the hilt tight, then drew out the long, slender war-blade.

In a daze, the palm pressed on Li Guanyi's shoulder sprouted scales and claws, radiating fierce blood qi—clearly a hand like that of a Azure Dragon. Yue Qianfeng's voice was a serious lesson, yet carried a chilling killing intent: "Martial arts is the art of killing people; it cannot be learned in a schoolroom."

"If you want to learn the martial art of killing, you must start by killing."

"He's already had his meridians crippled by that crossbow bolt just now—he makes a suitable opponent. Come, fellow criminal, grip the blade."

"Let me teach you what martial arts truly is!"

(End of this chapter)