The Choice

"There's one more thing I need to make clear to you."

Fatty Fang did not continue the topic of Blood-Boosting Powder, his expression turning serious.

"If you sign that new Death-Pledge Contract from the Middle Academy, then for the next three years, you won't be allowed to hold an outside position and make money."

"Hold an outside position?"

Chen Cheng's eyes were full of confusion.

"It means putting your name down somewhere outside the Martial Hall and taking on a side job."

Fatty Fang explained.

"In the city, plenty of businesses, guilds, gangs... even some jobs on the fringes of the yamen are willing to take in Martial Artists who have cultivated One-Incense Blood Qi. You collect a monthly stipend without having to report in every day, but when there's work to be done, you have to put in the effort."

"Oh, now that you put it that way, I know what you mean."

Chen Cheng recalled what he had seen before.

"When I was at the trading company, I saw several Martial Artists with side jobs. Some guarded storehouses and other important places, while others escorted merchant caravans over long distances..."

"They could make quite a bit of money, but it was genuinely dangerous too. Especially those who traveled with caravans—there was no telling whether they would return one day."

"Exactly."

Fatty Fang nodded.

"Why do they specifically want Blood Qi Martial Artists? Because those jobs could involve bloodshed and fighting for your life at any time... and precisely because of that, anyone bound by a Death-Pledge Contract cannot hold an outside position."

"Besides, once you enter the Middle Academy and carry a Death-Pledge Contract on your back, there will be other restrictions as well..."

"If that's the case..." Chen Cheng furrowed his brow slightly.

He had originally been weighing whether to spend money to buy back his freedom or continue staking his life for three years of free benefits.

But after hearing Fatty Fang say this, he made up his mind completely.

He wanted freedom!

Leaving aside the many restrictions that came with a Death-Pledge Contract.

More importantly, even if he cultivated Nine-Wick Blood Qi within three years and earned the title of Martial Guard, the shackles of the Death-Pledge Contract would still remain. Trying to remove them then would come at an outrageously steep price!

Chen Cheng said solemnly, "Senior Brother, please lend me the silver to dissolve the Death-Pledge Contract."

"...You."

Fatty Fang choked for a moment, then broke into a grin.

"Fine, fine. Who told me to promise you? I'll advance the ten taels of silver needed to dissolve the Death-Pledge Contract... but you'll have to figure out the five taels of monthly tuition yourself."

"Thank you, Senior Brother!"

Chen Cheng immediately rose to his feet and gave him a proper cupped-fist salute.

"Enough, enough. Cut out this empty ceremonial nonsense!" Fatty Fang spoke with disdain, but a smile never left his lips.

Chen Cheng sat back down and asked, "Senior Brother, why haven't I seen Wang Han or Shi Lei today?"

Fatty Fang curled his lip.

"Wang Han forced his way through the barrier last night and failed... I don't know whether it was real or an act, but later in the night he cried and laughed, completely unhinged. He disturbed the gangs around his home and was sent away overnight."

"Sent where?" Chen Cheng pressed.

"That's not something you should be asking about. In any case, as long as he still has a breath left in him, he must follow the Upper Academy's arrangements and repay his debt with his life."

Fatty Fang's tone was stern, carrying even a trace of warning.

Chen Cheng's heart tightened at that. He had not expected Dragon Mountain Hall to cooperate with the various gangs too. Their reach truly stretched far.

"As for Shi Lei, he said there was some urgent matter at home. He came to me first thing this morning to ask for three days off. By the rules, how could a Lower Academy disciple simply leave whenever he wanted?"

Fatty Fang's tone softened somewhat.

"Still... considering that he's usually diligent and close to you, I made an exception and approved it this time."

Chen Cheng smiled thoughtfully. After chatting with Fatty Fang for a while longer, he returned to the training yard, spread his stance, and continued tempering his Crouching Dragon Fist.

At noon.

The wild chicken in the soup pot had been stewed until tender, its fragrance filling the entire training yard.

Everyone sat in a circle and shared the meal. Their thanks to Chen Cheng never ceased, and the atmosphere was excellent.

Even Fatty Fang was dragged over by Chen Cheng to join the lively gathering for a while. He never lacked meat in his daily life, but Qiao Qiao's cooking was genuinely good. The broth was exceptionally fresh, and he could not resist having another bowl.

Just as things were at their liveliest, someone knocked on the courtyard gate.

A young disciple ran over and opened the gate a crack. After asking a few questions, he ran back.

"Senior Brother Chen, someone's looking for you. It's that person from last time..."

"Thanks."

Chen Cheng smiled at the young disciple, rose, and walked toward the courtyard gate.

The visitor was Zhang Ping. He was dressed more thickly than usual, but his face was rather pale. He stood there rubbing his hands together, his gaze shifting uncertainly.

"Steward Zhang?"

"Brother A-Cheng, let's talk somewhere else, somewhere else..."

Before Chen Cheng could ask anything, Zhang Ping grabbed his arm and hurriedly dragged him outside to a secluded spot by the wall.

"Something big happened... Last, last night, Zhao Shan died..."

"Died!? Are you sure you haven't got it wrong?"

Chen Cheng revealed just the right amount of surprise.

"Absolutely true! There's no mistake!"

Zhang Ping swallowed, his voice nearly inaudible.

"He died right at the entrance to the alley by his home... I heard he was ambushed. The killer was probably someone he knew, someone who knew beforehand that he would pass through there... It took no effort at all. Two strikes, and his life was gone!"

"Tsk, so something like that happened."

Chen Cheng paused, then changed the subject.

"Steward Zhang, did you make this special trip just to tell me that?"

"Yes, but not entirely..."

Zhang Ping leaned half a step closer.

"The Proprietor is thunderously furious this time, and Head Pot-Master Zhao has made a ruthless declaration too. Even if they have to dig three feet into the ground, they'll drag out the killer..."

"I know you definitely aren't the killer, Brother A-Cheng, but they might still trace things back to you..."

"I thought I should at least give you a heads-up first... If they really question you, you'll be prepared and won't be caught flat-footed."

"Thanks."

Chen Cheng nodded slightly, his expression unchanged.

Zhang Ping did not dare linger. After saying goodbye, he hurried away.

Chen Cheng was not particularly worried about this matter.

From what he knew of that beautiful Proprietor, no matter how she investigated, she would ultimately look at solid evidence. She would not convict someone based on mere intuition without any grounds.

Chen Cheng had not left behind a single trace last night, so naturally, there was nothing to worry about.

Two days later, Chen Family Old Residence.

"Everyone's here."

Old Chen curled up in that creaking old recliner, his gaze sweeping over Chen Yan, the fourth child, who had arrived late, before flicking toward Chen An and his wife, who had long been squatting silently by the wall.

"Third, Fourth, I called you here today because A-Hao... has reached a critical hurdle!"

"He's trying to break through into Blood Condensation, and he only lacks one portion of Blood Refining Powder. But your eldest brother, eldest sister-in-law, and I cannot squeeze out even a single coin anymore."

"Dad, you mean... you want our two families to fill this hole again?"

Chen Yan frowned and complained.

"It's not as if you don't know how much my family has subsidized A-Hao's martial training over these past six months."

"Over this past month or so, there's been one excuse after another for asking for money, without even a moment to catch our breath! My Old Zhao has long been unhappy about it, and we've had no shortage of arguments because of this!"

"Little Aunt!"

Chen Hao stepped forward, his face full of earnest pleading.

"Just this once. This really is the last time!"