Dark clouds, thick as ink, blotted out the daylight.
Fierce winds drove raindrops as big as beans against the courtyard, window lattices, and roof ridge. They rattled without pause, sharp as beans popping in a pan.
Looking up, he saw that a heavy curtain of rain had swallowed the entire rear courtyard training ground, turning it into a white blur.
Candles were lit one by one in the main hall.
Their flickering light cast Yang Erhu's face in shifting light and shadow.
Hong Yuan and Yang Erhu had both changed into clean, comfortable clothes and now sat facing each other.
Yang Erhu held a steaming bowl of tea in his hands. His thick, powerful fingers trembled slightly.
It was not the bitter wind and cold rain that had chilled him. His emotions were surging beyond his control.
His gaze stayed fixed on Hong Yuan, the shock on his face still plain to see. If he had not been trying to preserve a teacher's composure, he might already have been beside himself with joy.
After a sip of tea, Yang Erhu slowly calmed his excitement and sighed. "I knew long ago that your Root Bone and aptitude were excellent, yet you still gave me a fright. Even now, I can hardly believe it."
Yang Erhu was no man of narrow horizons.
In his youth, he had traveled the Seven Provinces and seen, even befriended, many extraordinarily gifted young heroes.
He had even counted as one of them himself.
Yang Erhu had also studied ancient texts. He knew that there were rare individuals in the world who, on the strength of their bodies alone, could mount a horse with spear in hand, charge into battle, and fight ten men—or a hundred—earning a place among the foremost warriors!
Once such people took up martial arts and tempered their strength, mastering their blood and qi and stepping into True Force within a year or half a year was nothing remarkable.
Yang Erhu had thought Hong Yuan's talent could be no greater than that. Instead, it far surpassed anything he had imagined.
Hong Yuan had begun tempering his strength, muscles, and bones only a dozen or so days ago. Three days ago, he had mastered his blood and qi. Today, he had already entered True Force.
What shook Yang Erhu most was that Hong Yuan could unleash True Force three times in succession the moment he attained it, and still appeared to have most of his strength in reserve.
With control like that, he was probably only one step away from Receive-and-Release-at-Will!
This was more than an extraordinary gift.
It was almost uncanny!
But uncanny was good!
At that thought, the excitement Yang Erhu had suppressed again and again finally burst free. The corners of his mouth rose of their own accord, and he broke into a long, hearty laugh.
"Good! Wonderful! I, Yang Erhu, have accomplished little in half a lifetime, but at least in my old age I've done one thing right: I've trained a disciple like you. With your aptitude, you will surely revive the Tiger-Subduing Sect. You might even... restore the glory Grandmaster Dragon-Tiger once knew."
Yang Erhu's eyes shone, his delight plain for all to see.
Hong Yuan, by contrast, remained composed. He took his time pouring himself a full cup of wine and savoring it. Only when Yang Erhu began to recover from his excitement did he speak:
"Teacher, what I need to discuss concerns Grandmaster Dragon-Tiger. I went out on an errand today and heard a name—the Dragon-Subduing Sect!"
Yang Erhu's expression tightened. "The Dragon-Subduing Sect? Where did you hear that name?"
Hong Yuan did not answer directly. Instead, he changed the subject. "Teacher, how much do you know about Meng Yue?"
Yang Erhu knew Hong Yuan would not bring him up without reason. After a moment's thought, he said:
"Meng Yue joined the Martial Arts Hall over two years ago. He has always been one of the most diligent disciples, and his aptitude is good. He's been very respectful toward me and eager to help. He has asked several times to become my personal disciple. I've wavered now and then, but something about him has always struck me as odd, so I've never made up my mind. Could it be..."
Remembering Hong Yuan's sudden mention of the Dragon-Subduing Sect, Yang Erhu's pupils contracted.
Hong Yuan nodded. He made no attempt to hide it. "Meng Yue is a disciple of the Dragon-Subduing Sect. He infiltrated the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall to steal the Tiger-Subduing Secret Transmission."
Yang Erhu's face turned pale, then flushed. He did not doubt Hong Yuan's words. "The wretched thief! To stoop to such a vile trick—he's disgraced Grandmaster Dragon-Tiger! Where is Meng Yue? I won't spare him!"
"Meng Yue is dead. I killed him!"
Hong Yuan spoke calmly.
Yang Erhu: "..."
Before Yang Erhu could ask anything, Hong Yuan laid it all out: how he had noticed something wrong with Meng Yue, devised a plan to lure the snake from its hole, tracked him in secret, discovered his collusion with Old Third Yan, and killed him after forcing a confession.
Of course, there was no need to mention the minor detail of going back on his word and breaking his promise.
Yang Erhu listened, dumbstruck. When he heard Old Third Yan's name, a fierce glint entered his eyes. "Old Third Yan is involved too? Good! Very good! He dared touch my disciple. Now I can settle the new grudge and the old in one stroke."
Yang Erhu's voice was cold and brimming with murderous intent.
"So you do have a grudge against Old Third Yan, Teacher? I questioned that gang of ruffians under him and learned that someone broke into his lair a few nights ago and fought his men. Was that you?"
Yang Erhu nodded, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I fell short at the final step. I didn't so much as scratch Old Third Yan."
"What grudge do you have against him?"
"It concerns Zi Yue. The reason the boy ended up like that was that the criminals under Old Third Yan led him astray. I even suspect they were the ones who sold Zi Yue into that den of vice."
"Master Qin and I were friends for twenty years. After seeing my old friend in that state at the end, I simply couldn't swallow my anger."
Hong Yuan offered no opinion.
Clearly, Yang Erhu and Master Qin had been friends for years, and Yang Erhu regarded Qin Ziyue like a nephew. One's own child was bound to be good; if he went bad, someone else must have led him astray.
Yang Erhu clenched his fists, veins bulging on the backs of his hands. "One day, I'll take Old Third Yan's dog head..."
"No need to trouble yourself, Teacher!" Hong Yuan waved a hand. When Yang Erhu looked at him in surprise, he said evenly, "Old Third Yan is dead too. His head is no longer on his shoulders. I killed him!"
Yang Erhu: "..."
Yang Erhu froze completely, left dizzy by the news.
He had spent half the day teaching at the Martial Arts Hall, and with the torrential rain, word of the "massacre" at the docks had yet to reach him. Naturally, he had no idea that people across Yangquan County were already repeating the line, "One man slain every ten paces."
Hong Yuan smiled again. "It's a pity I didn't know sooner that you had a grudge against Old Third Yan. Otherwise, I'd have brought his dog head back with me."
Yang Erhu fell silent. What would he do with that dog head?
Only after a long while did Yang Erhu begin asking about the details. Once he had heard Hong Yuan's account, he sighed, his feelings tangled.
He truly felt old!
And this young disciple of his was decisiveness itself when it came to killing. He had not wasted a moment.
Yang Erhu wanted to ask why Hong Yuan had not told him so they could act together, and to say that taking such a risk alone had been reckless. But then he remembered that he himself had charged into the lair, while his young disciple had disguised himself as a wandering swordsman, lured Old Third Yan out, struck once, and swiftly withdrawn.
Well...
It seemed the one who had been immature and reckless was Yang Erhu.
Besides, with Hong Yuan's martial skill as it now stood, he could have escaped with ease even if a mob of thugs surrounded him. Bringing Yang Erhu along might only have held him back.
Yang Erhu could only give a rueful smile.
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