Promise

"However, this lot is rather unusual. The person who consigned it isn't asking for gold leaves, but for a promise. Of course, he's short of money and can't even afford the entry fee. So, would anyone be willing to pay it for him first? It's only eight hundred gold."

The hall erupted.

"Eight hundred gold? That's robbery!" someone cursed.

"Exactly! What martial art is worth an eight-hundred-gold entry fee?"

The old man merely smiled and looked out over the audience.

"I'll pay." Feng Xiu spoke without hesitation!

The hall fell silent. Every gaze swung toward Feng Xiu and Zhou Xiao.

The old man's eyes lit up, and his gavel fell at once. "Young master, you have a keen eye. This lot is yours. Please come to the back room to settle matters with the person who consigned it."

The two rose and followed an attendant through a side door.

At the end of the corridor stood a small room with simple furnishings: a table and an oil lamp.

An old man sat beneath the lamp.

He wore a worn gray robe. Deep wrinkles lined his face, and his eyes were sunken, as though he had just been crying.

When he saw Feng Xiu and Zhou Xiao enter, he hurried to his feet and rubbed his hands together, looking terribly ill at ease.

A thin booklet lay on the table. Its yellowed cover bore five characters: Universe-Origin One Qi Art.

"Young master, th-this is the martial art." The old man's voice was hoarse and humble. "Please, have a look first."

"Sir, what would you like me to do?"

The old man drew a deep breath, bitterness in his voice.

"My name is Chen Yuan. War in Jin Province drove me to flee here. My girl is called Chen Wanniang. She's seventeen.