Senior Brother

"The Middle Academy is fiercely competitive, with plenty of rotten trouble. There are a few people who don't get along with me, and none of their factions are small. So from now on, I can't openly look after you anymore—otherwise I'd only be harming you!"

Fatty Fang reminded him in a low voice.

"Be smart yourself. Watch more, listen more, speak less, and meddle less. On the surface, whatever you do, don't ever wave my banner around. If there's truly a hurdle you can't get past... come find me at the Lower Academy."

"Understood."

Chen Cheng gripped the Waist Token tightly, clasped his hands, and bowed.

"Many thanks for Senior Brother's guidance and care. The ten taels of silver I owe you, I'll definitely repay as soon as possible."

"Enough, enough. If you have money, spend it on your own cultivation first..."

Fatty Fang said with a frown.

"Once the Crouching Dragon Fist reaches minor mastery, bitter training alone won't be enough to strengthen your Blood Qi further. You'll need real gold and silver to buy meat and medicinal supplements to stuff into yourself! Don't ruin your foundation just to repay that little bit of money you owe me. That'd be throwing the good after the bad!"

"Thank you, Senior—"

"I'm leaving."

Before Chen Cheng could finish, Fatty Fang merely waved a hand and swaggered toward the courtyard gate.

Chen Cheng steadied himself, found a sparsely populated corner of the training yard, and slowly assumed the stance of the Crouching Dragon Fist.

Once his fists began to cut the wind, his mind sank into focus.

Over the past two days, Chen Cheng had clearly felt that after taking Blood-Boosting Powder, the rate at which training the Crouching Dragon Fist strengthened and generated Blood Qi within him was roughly twenty percent faster than without it.

At this rate, so long as he had enough Blood-Boosting Powder, he should be able to condense Second-Incense Blood Qi within the month.

But the problem was that one small bottle of Blood-Boosting Powder only lasted seven days.

Once Zhao Shan's bottle ran out, the Middle Academy would issue him another one. After that, he would have to find a way to earn money and buy it himself.

Besides that, there was next month's tuition, extra meat, the expenses for him and his mother to survive the winter, and the government's Winter Tax... adding it all together, it was no small sum.

Yet all the loose silver he currently had in his robes, weighed out, came to less than three taels.

"I need to find a way to make money... and it can't be a one-shot deal... I need a long-term, stable income..."

Chen Cheng pondered silently, while the sharp crack of his fists splitting the air never ceased for a moment.

Meanwhile.

From afar, quite a few gazes swept over Chen Cheng, then quickly shifted away.

"Did you see that newcomer? He didn't even get through the doors of the Inner Hall. He's probably got inferior bones—Master Ye couldn't even be bothered to spare him a glance!"

"Could someone with inferior bones really cultivate One-Incense Blood Qi in that hellhole called the Lower Academy? That can't be possible, right..."

"The world is hard to predict. Maybe he stumbled upon some great opportunity? Or perhaps he used some... unusual means?"

"But say what you will, his Crouching Dragon Fist is truly beautiful! In a daze, I can even see a little of Master Ye's shadow in it!"

"Tsk, now that you mention it, it really is quite good..."

Near dusk.

All the disciples wearing white Waist Tokens ended their training early and headed toward the kitchen and dining hall on the left side of the training yard.

Fetching water, chopping firewood, washing vegetables, carrying rice, hauling meat... all of that was their work.

A small number of them were even assigned to clean the bathhouse and latrines, then carry the cleared rubbish and filth outside.

About half an hour later.

The disciples wearing black Waist Tokens finally began wrapping up their training one after another and heading to the dining hall.

Chen Cheng followed behind the crowd into the dining hall, where the smell of cooking oil, sweat, and noisy chatter filled the air.

He found an empty seat by the window and sat down.

Before long, a White Badge disciple brought over two large bowls and gently set them before him.

One bowl held steaming white rice piled high above the rim, each grain plump and full. The other contained glossy pork stewed with greens, likewise piled high above the rim.

"Thank you."

Chen Cheng nodded politely.

Yet that White Badge disciple acted as though he had not heard him. He lowered his head even further, quickly turned around, and left.

Inside the dining hall, the Black Badge disciples sat scattered about. Some ate while laughing and chatting, while others focused on shoveling down their food. After finishing quickly, they even paid extra for more meat and continued feasting heartily.

Meanwhile, the White Badge disciples constantly weaved between the tables and chairs, delivering meals, collecting dishes, wiping tables... not allowed even a moment's rest.

Chen Cheng watched silently. These White Badge disciples, burdened by the Middle Academy's Death-Pledge Contract, did far more than the dirty, exhausting work of servants. They were plainly slaves beneath others!

They would have to live like this for the next three years. Even if they eventually earned the title of Martial Guard, they would still remain tightly bound by the shackles of the Death-Pledge Contract...

At that thought, Chen Cheng could not help letting out a long breath.

Fortunately, he had the Vertical Eye Mark and had successfully cultivated One-Incense Blood Qi. Only then had he gained Fatty Fang's appreciation and assistance. Otherwise, would he not have ended up the same way?

This world...

"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?"

At that moment, a young man with a slight babyish plumpness to his face came over to Chen Cheng's side.

Chen Cheng swept his eyes over the room. There were clearly plenty of empty seats around them. It seemed this man had come specifically for him.

"No one." Chen Cheng shook his head and quietly watched to see what would happen.

"Thank you."

The young man dropped into the seat, the smile on his face growing even broader. He clasped his hands with easy familiarity.

"My name is Qian Baolu. May I ask how to address you, Junior Brother?"

"Chen Cheng."

"Junior Brother Chen, a pleasure, a pleasure."

Qian Baolu said.

"While we were training this afternoon, I watched you practicing your fist technique from afar... that posture, that spirit—it was like lofty mountains and flowing waters, a roaming dragon in the distant sky. It was truly a feast for the eyes..."

"...Senior Brother Qian."

Chen Cheng set down his chopsticks and looked at him.

"If you have something to say, you may as well say it directly."

"Heh, Junior Brother is a straightforward man! Then I'll be direct."

Qian Baolu said with a chuckle.

"Junior Brother just came up from the Lower Academy. You haven't taken on an outside post or side job yet, have you? And your purse... presumably isn't very full?"

He raised his right thumb and rubbed his middle finger against his index finger.

"I happen to know several good opportunities. If Junior Brother is interested, you only need to give me half of your first paycheck... I'd be making introductions and building bridges, after all. You can't expect me to go empty-handed, can you?"

"Senior Brother speaks reasonably. But what opportunities are there?" Chen Cheng asked.

The moment Qian Baolu heard there was a chance, he immediately began counting off on his fingers as though reciting family treasures.

"Inspector work on the Tea-Horse Trade Route—checking for smuggled goods, fighting mountain bandits. The profits are fat!"

"A runner for the Fushun Escort Agency in the South Outer City. You escort shipments, and the farther you travel, the more silver you earn."

"Then there are the resident toughs hired by the various gangs. So long as you're willing to risk your life, that's the fastest way to make money."

"And there are the Patrol Guard Bureau's mountain-search teams. You enter the mountains to seek rare treasures and exotic beasts—go half a year without business, then eat for half a year once business comes..."

Qian Baolu rattled off more than a dozen places, yet Chen Cheng wore an expression of utter disinterest throughout.

"With so many opportunities... Junior Brother doesn't fancy any of them?"

"...Senior Brother, the jobs you mentioned all inevitably involve fighting others, perhaps even risking one's life... They aren't quite suitable for me."

Chen Cheng shook his head and declined politely.

At those words, Qian Baolu curled his lip, and every trace of his smile vanished.

"In this world, you want to make big money safely and steadily? Then you'd better be born into a good family! For people from ordinary households like us, isn't all we have to trade for money a pair of strong arms and the courage to fight and stake our lives?"

He paused, his tone turning more serious.

"As the saying goes, wealth and honor are sought amid danger. Without high risk, where would high returns come from? And then there's another saying: the poor cultivate literature, the rich cultivate martial arts. Climbing the steps of martial cultivation is harder than climbing to heaven. If you don't risk your life, where will you get the resources to climb higher?"