Scapegoat

Chen Ping crouched by the bed, his fingers tracing the gaps between the blue bricks one by one until they met the familiar layer of dust. Only then did his suspended heart settle slightly back into his chest.

He lifted the loose brick. The inconspicuous little cloth bundle was still there.

Opening it, fifty-three taels of silver and a few small banknotes lay unharmed.

"Phew..."

Chen Ping let out a long breath of stale air, only to find a cold sweat had broken out on his back.

When he'd first entered the room, he'd keenly noticed the pillow was shifted half an inch to the left, and the bedsheet bore creases that had been smoothed down by someone's hand.

This was definitely not how he'd left it that morning.

Someone had searched his bed while he was away.

Chen Ping leaned close to the pillow and sniffed. A cheap scent of osmanthus hair oil stung his nostrils—it was the stuff Lai San from the servants' quarters loved to use, supposedly to cover his own sour stench, but in truth it reeked enough to give a man a headache.

"Lai San..."

Chen Ping wrapped the silver back up, stuffed it into the hidden compartment, and carefully sprinkled a layer of loose dust over it.

That Lai San was a degenerate gambler. He must have been desperate from his debts and come snooping for valuables under the pretense of making rounds.

Lucky he'd been cautious, hiding the bulk under the brick. If he'd stashed it in the pillow or the cabinet, he'd be bleeding silver today.

Though no money was lost, Chen Ping's eyes were shadowed with gloom.

One's bedside was no place for another to snore.

That afternoon, in the main hall of the Lin Manor.

The atmosphere was a bit tense.

At the head of the room sat a middle-aged man in a brocade training suit. His face was as red as a date, his temples bulged prominently, and his palms were broad and thick, the knuckles covered in calluses.

This man was Jin Zhenshan, the master of the Iron Palm Martial Hall in Jinguang City, and also one of the examiners for the upcoming Imperial Military Examination preliminary round.

Master Lin wore a full-faced smile as he personally poured tea for Master Jin, his back slightly hunched, exuding the fawning flattery of a merchant.

"Master Jin, look at my boy Yici here. Though he's a bit unruly, his heart is utterly sincere toward the martial path. This time, for the Imperial Military Examination..."

As he spoke, Master Lin quietly slid a banknote beside the teacup.

Jin Zhenshan didn't even lift his eyelids. He took a sip of tea and said flatly, "Master Lin, the Imperial Military Examination is the Imperial Court's grand selection of talent. Though I am an examiner, I dare not engage in corruption. However, if your son truly has talent, I, as a hall master, would naturally cherish it."

As he spoke, his sleeve brushed lightly, and the banknote on the table vanished into thin air.

From the corner where he stood as part of the background, Chen Ping's pupils suddenly contracted.

What a fast move.

"Of course, of course!"

Master Lin was overjoyed and quickly signaled to the Second Young Master, Lin Yici, who stood in the center of the courtyard. "Yici, hurry up and show Master Jin a demonstration!"

Lin Yici was dressed in a tight training suit today, looking somewhat presentable.

He let out a loud shout, assumed a stance, and began performing the Subduing Tiger Fist that the Lin Family had bought at great expense.

"Hey! Ha!"

His punches whistled through the air, looking lively enough.

But in the eyes of a true expert, this was nothing but a monkey show.

His steps were unsteady, his stance weak, his punches lacked power, and his body had long been hollowed out by wine and women. Halfway through, he was already panting and pale-faced.

Jin Zhenshan watched, his brow furrowing deeper, until finally he simply closed his eyes and shook his head repeatedly.

Master Lin's smile froze. Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he was so embarrassed he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

Just then—

"Whinny—!"

A shrill horse's cry came from the side gate.

Immediately after, the sound of urgent hoofbeats rang out.

A panicked tall horse had somehow broken its reins and charged madly into the courtyard, rampaging straight toward the main hall.

The horse's eyes were bloodshot, foam dripping from its mouth—it was in a state of extreme terror.

"Ah! Help!"

Lin Yici, who was in the middle of his routine, was the first in its path. Seeing the mountain-like mad beast charging at him, his legs gave way in fear, and he collapsed onto the ground. His crotch was instantly soaked, and a stench of urine spread through the air.

The mad horse reared its front hooves, about to crush Lin Yici's chest.

Standing under the eaves, Chen Ping's entire body tensed in an instant. His right hand instinctively formed a blade-like palm, and the Longevity of Pine and Crane within him began to circulate rapidly.

Save him? Or not?

If he acted, he would inevitably reveal his true strength.

If he didn't save him, the Second Young Master would die, plunging Lin Manor into chaos. He might be able to fish in troubled waters, but he could also be dragged down and buried with him out of spite.

In a flash, Chen Ping forcibly halted his movement.

Because he saw that Jin Zhenshan, who had been sitting still all along, had moved.

No unnecessary motions.

Jin Zhenshan simply shifted his form, appearing beside the mad horse like a ghost. He casually raised his right hand and lightly slapped the horse's head.

Slap.

The frenzied stallion didn't even let out a whimper. Its massive body went limp, crashing heavily to the ground, blood streaming from its seven orifices. It died on the spot.

The courtyard fell silent in an instant.

Only the chattering sound of Lin Yici's teeth remained.

Chen Ping stood in the shadows, his heart pounding violently, his palms slick with sweat.

This was a true internal martial arts master!

That palm strike looked light and airy, but the inner force had penetrated bone, directly shattering the horse's brain.

If that palm had landed on a person...

"Hmph. The rules of Lin Manor truly open my eyes."

Jin Zhenshan pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his hands with disdain, and coldly eyed the dead horse and the Second Young Master, who had soiled his pants. His tone dripped with contempt.

Master Lin only snapped back to his senses then. His face was pale as paper, then turned livid.

Shameful!

Utterly shameful!

Not only had he failed to secure his request, but he'd also let the Hall Master witness a farce, nearly costing his son's life.

"Someone! Who was in charge of this horse?!"

Master Lin roared, his voice shrill and distorted.

"It... it was Lai San..."

The Steward trembled as he pointed to Lai San, who was cowering by the door, his face already drained of color.

Lai San had originally planned to sneak to the kitchen for some wine and food while the honored guest was visiting, but he'd forgotten to lock the stable door. Who knew the horse would get spooked and bolt?

"Drag this dog of a servant out! Thirty heavy lashes! Throw him out of the manor! Never to be rehired!"

To salvage his face in front of Jin Zhenshan, Master Lin was exceptionally ruthless.

"Mercy, Master! Mercy, Master!"

Lai San wailed as two burly servants hoisted him up and pressed him onto a bench in the courtyard.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sound of the board hitting flesh was dull and loud, horrifying to hear, accompanied by Lai San's piercing screams that echoed through the courtyard.

Master Lin stole a glance at Jin Zhenshan. Seeing the man's expression ease slightly, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

After thirty lashes, Lai San's skin was split open, his lower body soaked in blood. He was dragged toward the gate like a dead dog.

As he passed under the eaves, Lai San struggled to lift his head. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Chen Ping.

In his view, since Chen Ping was on duty in the courtyard, he must have seen the stable door unlatched but deliberately failed to warn him, just to harm him.

That gaze was venomous and hateful.

Chen Ping's expression was wooden. He kept his head down, feigning a look of being scared stiff, but inwardly, his heart sank.

Being marked by a mad dog was never a good thing.

"Hall Master Jin, you've seen an embarrassment," Master Lin said, wiping his sweat and forcing a smile. "It's all because the servants don't know their place. But truth be told, my manor does have some servants who understand propriety. Chen Ping!"

To lighten the mood and prove the Lin Family wasn't entirely useless, Master Lin suddenly called out Chen Ping's name.

"This servant is here."

Chen Ping hurried over a few steps, knelt prostrate, his body trembling slightly, playing the part of a lowly servant to perfection.

"This brat has practiced some village martial arts in his spare time. Nothing compared to your disciples, but enough to keep fit. Chen Ping, perform a set of forms for Hall Master Jin to liven things up."

Chen Ping cursed inwardly. Treating me like a monkey?

But he dared not disobey on the surface. He could only mumble in agreement and stand up.

"This... this servant only knows the 'Longevity of Pine and Crane,' a... a health regimen..."

"No matter. Let's see it," Jin Zhenshan said casually.

Chen Ping steadied himself and assumed a stance.

This time, he didn't hide the moves of the 'Longevity of Pine and Crane,' but he deliberately slowed the pace, concealing the blood-and-qi force like liquid mercury, only showing the smoothness and steadiness of the movements.

He imitated a frail old man on the verge of death, slowly tracing circles. Every move was soft and limp, utterly lacking in lethality.

After finishing the set, Chen Ping's forehead was slightly damp with sweat. He bowed and stood to the side.

Jin Zhenshan glanced at him and gave a light snort. "All flash, no substance. But his lower body is steady, and his breathing is long and even. Useless for combat, but if you're aiming to live a long life, it's a solid enough foundation."

Hearing the words "useless for combat," Master Lin felt a pang of disappointment, but also a measure of relief—at least the boy hadn't embarrassed himself like the Second Young Master.

"Get out of here. Here's two taels of silver for your trouble." Master Lin waved his hand.

"Thank you, Master, for the reward. Thank you, Guild Master Jin, for your guidance."

Chen Ping bowed and scraped his way out, thanking them profusely.

Only after he was well out of sight of the main hall did Chen Ping's hunched back straighten for a fleeting moment. The servility in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp gleam.

Useless for combat?

As long as you live long enough, that's the greatest use of all.

Evening. The setting sun was like blood.

The back alley of Lin Manor.

Chen Ping carried a bucket of slop, pretending to dump it, but his gaze swept toward a dark patch of dried blood outside the manor gates.

That was where Lai San had been thrown out.

According to Old Zhang the gatekeeper, Lai San had been picked up by a few thugs he usually ran with. Before leaving, he spat a mouthful of bloody spittle at the Lin Manor gates and swore revenge.

Lin Manor was a grand household. Lai San couldn't touch the master or the young master.

But he knew where Chen Ping lived. He knew Chen Ping had money—after all, he'd become a foreman. And he knew Chen Ping had a lover named Yun Niang.

"There's only a thousand days of thieving, not a thousand days of guarding."

Chen Ping stared at the slowly drying bloodstain, the twisted, venomous face of Lai San surfacing in his mind.

Since the enmity was already sown, he couldn't afford to let it fester overnight.

The young man set down the slop bucket, his fingers lightly tracing the sharpened dagger hidden in his sleeve.

Tonight, the moon was dark and the wind high—a good night for killing.