At lunchtime after class, Xiang Yuan ate heartily in the dining hall. His appetite was astonishing: he ate as much as Xiao He and Xu Jixian combined, with enough left over to feed Wang Wenxu for three meals.
All the while, he could sense a furious glare. When he occasionally looked up, he saw Sima Qingyan chatting happily with her classmates, looking every bit the refined and gracious senior student.
The unfortunate senior had been harmed by her wicked father and brought under Xiao He's control. Xiang Yuan had no wish to make things difficult for her. After finishing his meal, he went alone to the woods behind the academy.
Before long, Sima Qingyan came after him.
Xiang Yuan nodded to her, took out the pawn ticket, and got straight to the point. "Here's the ticket. You have a full month to redeem it, so you can do so whenever you like."
He didn't return the fifteen hundred taels or anything like that. Doubi had earned that money through his own efforts. If Xiang Yuan gave it back, how could he face Doubi, who'd been running around doing all the work?
Spending someone else's money to help another person was a thief's virtue and a scoundrel's morality. That wasn't how to be a decent person.
He strode away, leaving the top student senior standing there, completely bewildered.
Sima Qingyan stared, dumbfounded, at the pawn ticket in her hand. The sword her elders had forged for her had been sold for a mere fifteen hundred taels. What a paltry sum! Was he looking down on her, or on her sect?
Weren't you so eloquent that night, with your sharp tongue? Why didn't you haggle?
Xiang Yuan was helpless, too. He knew perfectly well the sword was worth far more than fifteen hundred taels, but there was nothing he could do. When he pawned it, he knew nothing about it, so the shop assistant had treated it like stolen goods. He was lucky to have sold it at all.
If you weren't down to your last penny, even a hero would be hard-pressed, who'd sell a family heirloom sword? Right, Beast-Faced Qing?
Back in the classroom, he saw Xiao He and Xu Jixian huddled together, whispering.
Xiang Yuan leaned in to listen. Sure enough, they were at it again.
"Think they'll end up fighting?"
"Why fighting, instead of getting along just fine? They could duck into the woods, where no one would see them. Once they pulled up their pants, they'd still be upright, respectable people."
"I know Qingyan. A proper young lady like her wouldn't go for a younger man. Little Yuan's only fifteen, and he hasn't got a weapon worth mentioning, so he's not ready to kill. He needs to grow a bit more first."
"Absurd. I, for one, disagree..."
The two were clearly doing it on purpose. Since there was still time, Xiang Yuan went to the library to find Wang Wenxu. First, he wanted to borrow books to broaden his knowledge and make up for what he lacked. Second, he wanted information about Song Family Village and the Yellow Springs Dao disciples.
Wang Wenxu was writing in the library. Perhaps he'd stayed up all night; he looked a little drained, with faint dark circles under his eyes.
Xiang Yuan felt bad for him. He'd already received the teacher's apologetic gift. To keep bullying a gentleman would be the behavior of a petty man.
Then he noticed more than ten pieces of calligraphy laid out, each one crafted with all the writer's effort, their Vast Righteous Qi practically leaping off the page.
Only a dozen or so? That wasn't enough!
Xiang Yuan was kindhearted, but only to a point—especially when there was something to gain. He knocked and went inside, using the excuse of asking for tea to get Wang Wenxu to take a break.
He could write more once he'd rested. Xiang Yuan couldn't have the quality of the calligraphy suffer!
And why was he so slow? Even the production team's donkey wouldn't take this long!
When Wang Wenxu saw Xiang Yuan, he looked embarrassed all over again. But when he learned Xiang Yuan wanted to borrow books, his spirits immediately lifted. At Xiang Yuan's request, he recommended several easy-to-understand books to broaden his horizons.
When asked about Song Family Village, Wang Wenxu was prepared for that, too. He handed Xiang Yuan a letter and told him to burn it after reading.
"Sir, has the situation in Song Family Village really deteriorated this badly?"
"It's just as the letter says. If you don't go, I'll have to send someone else."
"There's no time to lose. I'll set off at once."
Xiang Yuan read it over again, committed every word to memory, then burned the letter and turned to leave. He was still "angry," and to keep the wool coming, he couldn't afford to be friendly to Wang Wenxu or stay too long.
"Wait. Don't go yet."
Wang Wenxu stopped him, frowning. "I've given you the intelligence. You know the situation and must have a plan, but things rarely go perfectly. I can't guarantee every detail is accurate. If something's wrong and you find yourself in danger, do you have a way to deal with it?"
A few.
For instance, the knockout drug Xu Jixian had made. Even an Acupoint Opening martial artist would lose consciousness after taking it, sleeping for three nights and three days like a corpse, oblivious even if struck with knives or axes. It was called Three Nights Off Duty.
Then there were the sleeve darts Yue Huanjiang had given him. They packed a fierce punch. Even an ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator could be wounded by them if he lacked Gang Qi to protect himself.
Add that bottle of poison, and the Yellow Springs Dao disciples wouldn't make it back.
If he had some lime powder, he'd have the perfect trio of winning tricks!
Xiang Yuan wanted to hone his skills. He wouldn't lightly resort to poison, darts, or knockout drugs. Glancing at Wang Wenxu's calligraphy, he said, "Vast Righteous Qi counters ghosts and evil. Three pieces of your calligraphy will be enough."
"That's not quite right."
Wang Wenxu shook his head. He knew Xiang Yuan was steady; those words were just a matter of youthful pride. He wanted to warn him not to get too confident—confidence could turn into arrogance. To be safe, Wang Wenxu could hide nearby and protect him.
You could hide if you wanted. Why tell me?
Xiang Yuan sighed. Knowing someone was behind him would inevitably change his mindset when he wielded his blade. That went against his purpose in honing his skills.
Wang Wenxu seemed to understand. Realizing what he'd let slip, he blushed and stammered, "Then I won't go. Don't worry. If I say I won't go, I won't."
Sir, you're nowhere near as good a liar as Xiao He and Xu Jixian.
Xiang Yuan took three pieces of calligraphy and left the library. He couldn't figure out how someone as gentlemanly as Wang Wenxu managed to keep his job at the Imperial City Directorate—and not just keep it, but thrive.
A moment later, he retraced his steps and took three more.
Steady as ever.
Song Family Village lay thirty li south of the city, backed by two green hills that enclosed a valley.
The hills weren't tall or steep, but were covered in green trees, with clear springs trickling down their slopes. It was an excellent place to live.
However, the streams were too small to irrigate the fields, so the villagers made their living off the hills. They gathered medicinal herbs and mushrooms, or set traps and hunted. Every half month, they formed a team, hitched up carts, and went to Fengxian County to trade their goods for money and buy necessities.
They were self-sufficient. Influenced by the Nine Yi Tribes of the Southern Border, they were good at identifying poisons and loved practicing with blades and sticks. They especially favored archery, and every household had a skilled hunter.
As a result, they had little interest in the court-appointed Bao Yi Lang. Instead, they were close to the Nine Yi Tribes. Chu and Yi people lived side by side there, and intermarriage was common.
Most places along the border between Western Chu and the Southern Border were like this. Song Family Village was relatively moderate; the farther south one went, the more the Chu people became like the people of the Southern Border, worshipping strange and primitive beliefs.
In their eyes, evil cults like the Yellow Springs Dao weren't frightening. Heavy taxes were as fierce as tigers, and the court was what they feared.
At a quarter past two in the afternoon, a chestnut-colored horse raced into Song Family Village.
With a travel pack on his back and the Tiger Roar Saber wrapped in black cloth at his side, Xiang Yuan dismounted and led the horse toward the village entrance.
Before he'd even entered the village, two burly men dressed like villagers came striding toward him, bows and arrows on their backs.
"Who are you, and why have you come to Song Family Village?"
"I'm Xiang Yuan, the Bao Yi Lang assigned to Song Family Village. I've come to take up my post. Here's the official appointment." Xiang Yuan took out the document bearing the government seal and unfolded it in front of the two men.
They looked at the document, then at each other, both at a loss.
"I'm Cheng Yong, and this is my kinsman, Cheng He. Song Family Village has never had a Bao Yi Lang. We can protect the village ourselves, so there'll be nothing for you to do here." Cheng Yong sounded brusque, clearly unhappy that some lord had been placed over them.
Xiang Yuan smiled faintly, not taking offense. He studied the two burly men for a moment before replying, "Banditry has been rampant lately. Your methods might work against the tigers in the mountains, but you're not quite equipped to deal with the Demonic Beings from the Southern Border. The government knows how hard things are for you and doesn't want you throwing your lives away, so they sent me here."
Cheng He frowned. Cheng Yong stepped forward. "I see you have official papers, so I won't hold your disrespect against you. But I didn't expect a young fellow like you to be so full of himself. Tell me, what makes you think you're better than us?"
Everything was going as Xiang Yuan had expected. He rested a hand on the long blade wrapped in black cloth at his waist. "I may be young, but I can hold my own. You're welcome to test me."
In a place with fierce folk traditions, the lesson of the fist always made a deeper impression than the lesson of the tongue.
The brothers fell silent, likely intimidated. Cheng Yong said, "Everyone from the village has gone into the mountains to hunt today. I don't want to argue with you. We'll talk when they're back. The village elders will decide what to do with you."
Just as the intelligence had said.
Xiang Yuan nodded. He didn't mind missing the chance to establish his authority in a fight. He asked them to arrange a place for him to stay, since he planned to spend the night in Song Family Village.
Cheng Yong led Xiang Yuan to the village's communal hall.
On the way, Xiang Yuan looked around. "The men are out hunting. Why aren't there any women or children?"
"They're gathering herbs or digging for vegetables. This is a poor, remote village, not as prosperous as the County Yamen. I doubt a lord like you understands how hard we have it." Cheng Yong wore a sour expression.
"True enough."
Xiang Yuan nodded, then asked curiously, "You brothers both have the surname Cheng. Have you become the biggest family in Song Family Village?"
"The people named Song moved away ages ago. Who says everyone in Song Family Village has to be named Song..." Cheng Yong muttered as he dumped Xiang Yuan at the communal hall and left.
Watching Cheng Yong hurry away, Xiang Yuan narrowed his eyes. He'd already made up his mind.
Tonight!
Before you continue