Chapter Six: The Short-Tempered Brother, Li Qidao...

Wang Anfeng bade farewell to Jiang Shouyi. Whether it was just his imagination or not, he felt that seven-tenths of the exhaustion weighing on his body had vanished. Even the bruises on his fists no longer hurt as much.

When he returned home and had just pushed open the main gate, he saw a massive bluestone in the middle of his courtyard. A familiar figure sat atop it—a burly man in worn-out clothes, a wine jar hooked in his left hand, his white hair flying wildly like a lion's mane. Wang Anfeng froze for a moment.

"Uncle Li?"

When Li Qidao raised his eyes and saw the chains around the boy's body, the anger he had barely suppressed surged from his chest. After a brief pause, he finally spoke.

"Those chains—your master put them on you?"

His voice was low, with the faint rumble of thunderous fury.

Wang Anfeng's mind and strength were both greatly depleted. He failed to notice Uncle Li's anger and merely smiled.

"Yeah. They're pretty heavy."

As he spoke, he raised his hand and threw a punch. The chains clanged, and the bruises and wounds on his knuckles fell into Li Qidao's eyes. The old man's pupils grew deeper, like dark clouds pressing down on a city, layer upon layer. The thunder had yet to break, but the oppression was already enough to suffocate.

He knew this was surely for Wang Anfeng's own good.

But seeing the child he had watched grow up exhausted, with hidden injuries forcibly pressed into his body, he knew from his own cultivation just how painful it was. As people grew old, they cherished the younger generation all the more. He approved of diligent cultivation, but what Wang Anfeng was enduring could no longer be called diligence.

This was nothing short of self-mutilation.

Back when he was sixteen, Li Qidao had only then begun cultivating in such a manner. Yet the child before him was merely thirteen.

At that moment, the anguish and fury in his chest nearly overwhelmed the reason in his mind. Looking at Wang Anfeng, he tugged at the corners of his mouth and forced out a smile.

"Where is your master...? Uncle Li would like to have a little talk with him."

A good, proper exchange—in a martial artist's way.

Wang Anfeng paused. He had asked Yuan Ci about this before, and Yuan Ci had told him that the Buddhist beads around his wrist could only allow him alone to enter Shaolin Temple. After hesitating, he said,

"Uncle Li, I can't... I can only go alone."

"If there's one more person, I won't be able to enter Shaolin Temple."

The boy's words seemed to come from nowhere, but Li Qidao understood. The veins on the back of his hand bulged, yet he threw back his head and laughed.

"So he's an expert capable of Sleeve Universe and World in Palm after all... Hahaha, good! Uncle Li is delighted!"

"Help Uncle Li give him this jar of wine!"

With that, he flicked his wrist and sent the wine jar flying toward Wang Anfeng. The boy caught it instinctively. A wave of numbness and itching ran through his body, leaving him even more exhausted, but the faint pain vanished completely. By then, Li Qidao had already turned and strode away, his departing figure carrying a hint of exasperation.

The boy did not understand why. He only looked at the wine jar in his hands and sighed.

"My master... doesn't drink... Giving it to him would be too abrupt."

"Forget it. I'll give it to Mr. Ying."

With the enormous punishment weighing on his mind, Wang Anfeng entered Shaolin Temple after eating lunch. It was still the solitary peak, and his master and Mr. Ying were still there. Seeing that Wang Anfeng looked to be in decent condition, the former felt slightly relieved, while the middle-aged scholar's attention remained on the chessboard. He casually placed down a piece and said absently,

"You're here? If you're here, then go cultivate..."

Wang Anfeng did not descend the mountain. Instead, he gently placed Uncle Li's wine jar beside Mr. Ying. The latter was slightly startled. Though they could learn what was happening in the outside world, they did not concern themselves with mundane matters, and thus knew nothing of Li Qidao's visit. He frowned.

"For me?"

Wang Anfeng nodded.

"Uncle Li asked this junior to give it to you."

After setting down Uncle Li's gift, Wang Anfeng turned around, picked up the iron bucket nearby, and started down the mountain. As the sound of chains faded into the distance, Yuan Ci asked with a smile,

"Why not open it and take a look?"

Mr. Ying gave a derisive laugh.

"This wine was meant for you. He knew you did not drink and did not wish to offend you, so he gave it to me instead."

"When have I ever accepted something others did not want?"

As he spoke, he swept out his sleeve. It rolled like a cloud and struck the wine jar, but the coarse porcelain jar did not shatter. A bolt of purple lightning flashed across its surface, blasting the sleeve of Mr. Ying's right arm to pieces!

Rumble!

Purple lightning surged skyward. In the blink of an eye, it shattered all the sealing mud on the wine jar. Lightning plasma flowed across the clear wine, inspiring dread at a glance. Suddenly, a dragon's roar erupted. The wine rose into the shape of a dragon, riding wind and lightning as it shot into the heavens. Clouds howled, accompanied by thunder and raging winds. Even within this realm, it stirred the weather across a radius of ten li, and heavy black clouds came rolling in.

The dragon's head emerged from the clouds and mist. It opened its fangs and let out a proud roar toward the top of the solitary peak. Purple lightning exploded outward, yet the area around Wang Anfeng remained tranquil and serene.

Mr. Ying's eyes narrowed slightly. He slowly lowered his head and looked at his shattered sleeve, his voice cold.

"...What a temper. It infused thunder into the wine without harming the jar in the slightest. What tremendous skill!"

He then looked up at Yuan Ci and sneered.

"Looks like someone is questioning whether you are qualified to be this boy's master..."

Yuan Ci shook his head and chuckled.

"There is not the slightest trace of killing intent in this thunder. It resembles an old man grumbling in complaint... It should be that the chains on Feng'er have displeased Uncle Li. Or perhaps... considering the weight you gave him, it would be strange if he showed no reaction at all."

Mr. Ying sneered when he heard this.

"So you intend to let it pass just like that?"

Yuan Ci shook his head and slowly rose.

"That would be inappropriate..."

"His action also carries the intent of testing us. Courtesy demands reciprocity. As Feng'er's master, I naturally cannot fail to observe propriety."

The monk in gray robes raised one hand before his chest and lowered his brows. Within his calm voice, a Buddhist Dharma Image emerged behind him. Its Vajra's Wrathful Gaze blazed as it stood atop Karmic Fire. With a sweep of its hand, amid grand Buddhist chants and Sanskrit hymns, it scattered the clouds, mist, and thunder filling the sky.

When Wang Anfeng left that day, he was entrusted with a string of Buddhist beads and a Scroll painting, and was told to give them to Li Qidao. The usually cold-faced Mr. Ying had also spoken a few more words to him than usual, asking him to bring some books next time.

If that was not enough, he could go to the county town or the commandery city. Those cities should have libraries.

Watching Wang Anfeng's figure disappear from sight, Yuan Ci turned toward Mr. Ying and smiled.

"I never expected you to take the initiative to learn about Feng'er's world."

The middle-aged scholar did not answer. He only lowered his eyes to his right hand. His sleeve had already been restored, and his palm was pale and slender, yet it still trembled faintly beyond his control. Purple lightning flickered beneath his skin. His five fingers slowly curled together, and a strange radiance surfaced in his eyes as he spoke in a low voice.

"Because this world seems to be very different from ours... Trapped here as we are, we can only learn about this world through Wang Anfeng."

"I had planned to have him seclude himself and cultivate bitterly. But it seems that, in addition to bitter cultivation, I should also have him travel around the nearby area over the next few years. Since this is the martial world, there should be no shortage of bandits and the like. Even if the realm is at peace, there should still be some martial academies and gangs..."

Murmuring softly, the scholar's lips curved faintly upward, his expression growing ever colder.