The black-lacquered gates of Blustering Wind Martial Hall were even taller and more imposing than Li Yuan had imagined. Two stone lions stood before them, weather-beaten and covered in scratches, silently telling of the martial hall's long history. The four gilded characters "Blustering Wind Martial Hall" above the gates were rendered in bold, powerful strokes, carrying a wave of Killing Intent.
The entrance was bustling. Many youths dressed in all manner of clothes were waiting in line to register, accompanied by family members or servants. Most were dressed in fine clothes, their qi and blood brimming with vitality. Their faces showed excitement or pride as they spoke quietly among themselves, occasionally glancing around with assessing, competitive eyes.
Li Yuan stood alone. He wore coarse clothes washed nearly white, still marked with traces of blood that had resisted every effort to scrub them out. He looked completely out of place among the crowd. He clutched a coarse cloth bundle in his hands. Inside were a roughly tanned boar hide and a pair of gleaming white tusks—everything he owned, and his ticket through these gates.
He could feel the gazes falling on him: curiosity, contempt, even undisguised scorn. But his expression remained calm, his eyes lowered. He kept every emotion tucked away deep inside, like a stubborn stone sinking into a fathomless pool.
After waiting in line for a long while, his turn finally came.
The person in charge of registration was a young instructor wearing the martial hall's standard blue jacket. He looked to be in his twenties, with a stern face and thick knuckles. Without even looking up, he asked mechanically, "Name, age, address. Did you bring the tuition?"
"Li Yuan, fifteen. I live in the west of the city." Li Yuan's voice was steady. He set the coarse cloth bundle on the desk and opened it. "For the tuition... I'll use this."
The boar hide and tusks were exposed to the air, carrying the stench of the mountains and a savage, wild odor.
The young instructor finally looked up. His eyes passed over the boar hide and tusks, then sized up Li Yuan from head to toe. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. The boy didn't look particularly strong—Li Yuan had deliberately kept his qi and blood in check—and his clothes were tattered. He'd supposedly hunted a Tusked Boar all by himself? He'd probably gotten lucky, or simply found the carcass.
"Materials from a Tusked Boar," the instructor said indifferently, prodding them with a finger. "Mediocre quality, and poorly processed. I'll count them as eight taels of silver. You're still short two."
Li Yuan's heart sank. He had asked around about market prices. This intact hide and pair of unbroken tusks were worth at least twelve taels. The instructor was clearly lowballing him.
But he didn't argue. This wasn't the time to win a battle of words.
Silently, he fumbled inside his clothes for another small cloth pouch. He poured out a few scattered bits of silver and a pile of copper coins. They were what remained after he had sold off the boar's scraps of meat and added the little savings he had left. Together, they just barely made up another two taels.
"Here. Exactly two taels." He pushed the money over.
The young instructor looked at him with some surprise, as if he hadn't expected this poor kid to scrape together the rest. He counted the money without expression, wrote Li Yuan's name in a register, then tossed him a wooden number plaque.
"Class C Room Seven. Turn right when you go in. The row of shacks at the very end is where you'll stay. Tomorrow at the hour of the Dragon, assemble at the training ground. You'll be taught the basics of the Iron Body Technique. Show up late or don't show up at all, and you're out." His tone was anything but polite.
"Thank you, Instructor." Li Yuan took the plaque, thanked him in a low voice, picked up the now-empty cloth bundle, and turned to walk through the martial hall's gates.
Inside lay a broad training ground paved with bluestone, where many apprentices were sweating as they practiced. Their shouts rang out without pause. The air was thick with sweat and dust, along with a faint, rusty scent of blood.
He didn't stop at the training ground. Following the directions, he turned right. After passing through several corridors, the surroundings suddenly grew more run-down. A row of low buildings, which looked like storage rooms converted into living quarters, came into view. These were the "Class C Rooms," where the martial hall's lowest-ranked apprentices lived.
When he pushed open the wooden door to Room Seven, a stench of mildew and sweaty feet washed over him. The room was narrow and dimly lit, with four hard plank beds lined up side by side. Each had only a thin layer of straw matting. Three of the beds were already occupied.
A chubby youth with a greasy face lay on his bed with one leg crossed over the other, a blade of grass in his mouth. When Li Yuan entered, he gave him a sidelong look and curled his lip.
Another youth was thin and gaunt, with timid eyes. He hurriedly sat up and watched Li Yuan, looking somewhat ill at ease.
The last one was a hard-faced youth leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He glanced briefly at Li Yuan, then closed his eyes, as if nothing in the outside world had anything to do with him.
Seeing Li Yuan's shabby clothes and the empty bundle in his hands, the chubby youth sneered. "Well, well, another poor wretch? Class C is really going downhill. Kid, what gutter did you crawl out of? You know the rules or not?"
Li Yuan ignored the provocation. He glanced around the room and found the vacant bed near the door, in the dampest spot. He walked over, set his empty bundle on the bed, and began straightening the pitifully thin straw mat.
When Li Yuan didn't answer, the chubby youth felt he'd been made to look foolish. He abruptly sat up and pointed at him. "Hey! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf? You know who runs this Class C room?"
Li Yuan still didn't look up. He calmly went on making his bed, as if the annoying racket were no more than a buzzing fly.
The chubby youth was about to blow up when the thin youth beside him hurriedly tried to placate him in a low voice. "Brother Zhao, let it go. He's new and doesn't know any better. You can deal with him later..."
The chubby youth, whom they called Brother Zhao, glared fiercely at Li Yuan, then glanced at the hard-faced youth resting with his eyes closed. He seemed wary of him. In the end, he spat in frustration and lay back down, cursing under his breath. "Damn it. Poor and still acting tough!"
Li Yuan finished laying out the straw mat and sat on the hard bed, leaning his back against the cold wall. He closed his eyes.
The noise outside and the chubby youth's insults seemed to fade away, shut out from him.
His consciousness sank into his body.
Deep in his sea of qi, that "Crimson Sun" hovered quietly, radiating steady light and heat. Through his meridians, Crimson Sun Qi and Blood flowed like an undercurrent.
The martial hall's discrimination, the shabby lodgings, the hostility of his roommates... He was used to all of it.
He hadn't come here to make friends, nor to enjoy himself.
He had come for the Iron Body Technique, for a respectable identity, and for... more resources and greater strength!
Feeling the tangible power within his body, Li Yuan's lips curled into a cold smile in the shadows, unseen by anyone.
Tomorrow, at the hour of the Dragon: the Iron Body Technique.
He looked forward to it.
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