The dim lights, the sweltering summer night, not a breath of wind, and the room's air conditioner running on commercial electricity.
Yang Xuan had finally chosen the plane "Fist of Legend." For people of his generation, when they watched this movie back then, they all thought both the protagonist and the villain had incredibly powerful martial arts. They also admired Chen Zhen's spirit of resistance against the invaders. Li Lianjie was already thirty-one when he made this movie, yet he still looked so young.
The movie's story should take place in Shanghai in 1914. He would probably stay there for a while this time. "System, can my time control be improved now?" Yang Xuan asked silently.
"Host, your mental power has now broken through the limits of ordinary people. Your time control has increased from 1:100 to 1:500," the system said.
"Great. Then I need to start preparing some things. After all, I'll be staying there for quite a while." Yang Xuan rubbed his fists eagerly.
There were three companies on the floor where Yang Xuan's company was located. Besides his own fur business, there was also a company selling handicraft watches. They were very attractive, but not expensive—in other words, they were ordinary watches with good-looking exteriors.
Since they were all on the same floor, he would usually greet their employees whenever they ran into each other. After a long time, they had become somewhat acquainted. Yang Xuan spent 1,000 yuan on twenty of their lowest-grade watches. Then he went on a major supermarket shopping spree, buying cigarettes, drinks, snacks, and compressed biscuits, just in case. After all, this world was even more dangerous than the previous one.
With a wave of his hand, he stored everything in his storage space.
3, 2, 1. Teleportation. Yang Xuan suddenly felt his vision go black.
When he opened his eyes again, the surroundings had completely changed. Thank goodness he had arrived in a small alley. That way, he would not cause too much of a stir.
In the previous world, he had at most seen a lawn and the surrounding skyscrapers. Now the environment had completely changed, and it was also during World War I. It would have been a lie to say Yang Xuan was not nervous. Pretending to be calm, he walked out of the alley and saw a fairly decent commercial street.
The surroundings had the style of old Shanghai often seen in television dramas. There were almost no skyscrapers; all he saw were low houses. The tallest were only three- or four-story Western-style homes.
Most of the people around him had sallow faces. They wore relatively shabby clothes, many of them patched, and their styles resembled those of the Republic of China.
The first thing he needed to consider was money. After asking around along the way, he discovered that Shanghai in 1914 had quite a lot of pawnshops. There was basically one every short distance.
This one looked decent. Yang Xuan gazed at a shop with antique decor and a steady stream of customers.
It was his first time pawning something, and he was still somewhat curious.
Yang Xuan walked to a counter and said to the clerk inside, "Hey, could you take a look and tell me how much I can pawn this watch for?"
The young clerk, who appeared to be sorting things, adjusted his glasses. Without saying anything, he looked at it casually. The more he examined it, the more impressed he became, and the impatience on his face gradually faded.
"Sir, is this watch a live pawn or a dead pawn?" the clerk asked seriously.
Yang Xuan thought for a moment before saying, "A dead pawn. If the price is high enough, I still have fifteen more."
The clerk was startled. A watch with such exquisite workmanship—and it was not the only one? Good items often passed through the pawnshop, so he knew his stuff. But with such a large quantity, the decision was beyond his authority.
"Please wait a moment, sir. The quantity is rather large. I'll inform the shopkeeper," the clerk said, lacking confidence.
After only a few minutes, a middle-aged man emerged from the back room. He wore a Republic of China-style cap and glasses, had a pointed face, and sported a small mustache. Needless to say, he was the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper sounded out Yang Xuan. "Sir, we've examined your watches, and there are quite a lot of them. I'll make the decision myself: one hundred silver dollars each. What do you think?" Yang Xuan agreed without even considering it.
In Shanghai in 1914, the purchasing power of one silver dollar was roughly equivalent to one hundred yuan in the main world. A watch bought for the equivalent of fifty yuan could be turned into ten thousand yuan after changing hands.
Yang Xuan was not foolish. He could return to the main world at any time and simply buy more after spending the silver dollars. He could also use the silver dollars to buy antiques and take them back. Even if he did not buy antiques, the silver dollars themselves could fetch a decent price in the main world.
Now that he had money, he should go to Jingwu School first. He ought to buy some gifts before seeking instruction; that would show sincerity.
He bought things all along the way. Everything was genuinely cheap. He also bought a backpack—otherwise, storing everything in his storage space would inevitably arouse suspicion. Since he was here, he might as well experience riding in a rickshaw. Hehe.
"Driver, take me to Jingwu School." Yang Xuan casually hailed a rickshaw.
There was no denying that having money in an unfamiliar place meant that even if he got into trouble, it would not affect his real life. The worldly polish Yang Xuan had gradually acquired in the main world was beginning to show.
He finally arrived. Thankfully, the teleportation had been reliable, and the destination was not too far away. At Jingwu School, Yang Xuan looked at the characters on the plaque. They were said to have been written by the Grandmaster Huo Yuanjia himself, but the plaque was now draped in white cloth, indicating that someone there had died.
At this point in time, Chen Zhen had probably just returned and happened to encounter someone coming to challenge the school.
Sure enough, it was Master Ni. Taking advantage of Huo Yuanjia's death, he intended to challenge Jingwu School. He bullied the weak and feared the strong.
No way. Had he lost even faster than in the movie? Ting En was fairly formidable, wasn't he?
Chen Zhen was now paying respects to his master. This was not a good time to seek instruction. The timing was wrong. What a headache.
While Yang Xuan was thinking of a solution, Chen Zhen emerged from inside with red eyes. He was probably going to cause trouble at the Hongkou Dojo.
Damn it, why was seeking instruction so troublesome? If necessary, he could become Huo Ting'en's disciple instead. Either way, both of them were far stronger than he was.
He could neither leave nor stay. Just then, a man around fifty years old entered Jingwu School carrying something shaped like a staff on his back. He moved with the stride of a dragon and a tiger, his eyes flashing with brilliance. Anyone could tell he was no ordinary man.
As Sun Jinong and Huo Ting'en came out, intending to go to the Hongkou Dojo, they saw the elderly man and froze. They stepped forward, clasped their fists, and said, "Brother Tongcheng, you've come! Fourth Brother Huo has already passed away."
The elderly man said nothing. He walked to the mourning hall, did not kneel or bow, but clasped his fists and gave a slight bow.
At that moment, the elderly man spoke. "Back then, I had such enjoyable conversations with Brother Junqing. I never imagined that after parting, we would be separated by life and death. I admired Junqing greatly, both for his character and for his martial arts cultivation."
A thousand grass-mud horses galloped through Yang Xuan's heart. How was he supposed to become a disciple like this? If they continued exchanging pleasantries, there would be no end to it. Gritting his teeth, Yang Xuan jogged to Huo Yuanjia's memorial tablet and knocked his head against the floor three times.
Everyone stared at Yang Xuan in bewilderment. In the midst of the awkwardness, Sun Jinong directly asked, "Young man, what are you doing? We don't even know you, yet you came up and performed such a grand ritual?"
Yang Xuan said solemnly, "Hero Huo died fighting the Japanese. For such a national hero, even prostrating myself before him would not be excessive. I intend to abandon literature for martial arts and do my part for the nation."
Before Sun Jinong could speak again, the elderly man had already said, "Good. Young man, not bad."
Yang Xuan said, "As the saying goes, 'Everyone is responsible for the fate of the nation.' I intend to study martial arts at Jingwu School and serve the country."
Huo Ting'en stepped forward at that moment and said, "Father has just died, Chen Zhen has returned from studying abroad, and the funeral arrangements are not yet complete. You may have to wait a while before becoming a disciple."
"How about this? It won't count as formally becoming my disciple. I'm going to stay here for a few days anyway, so I'll also see whether you have the aptitude to practice martial arts," the elderly man said.
"May I ask your name?" Yang Xuan asked politely.
"This old man's name is Li Shuwen," the elder said confidently.
Li Shuwen? Li Shuwen!!!