Personal Disciple

Zhao Family Martial Hall, inner courtyard.

Zhao Yan held a teacup, his face expressionless, but after hearing Chen Wang's account, his hand paused slightly.

News that Xu Qing had severely injured Han Bao with a single punch had finally reached the martial hall.

Yesterday, when Xu Qing returned and said his appointment had been settled, Zhao Yan had assumed everything had gone smoothly. He had not asked further or given it much thought. He had never known there had been such a bout at the yamen.

Now, as Chen Wang stood before him, breathlessly recounting every detail, he finally learned... that youth whose bones he had judged to be "below average" had thrown just one punch in the yamen's Martial Arts Arena yesterday and knocked down the prized disciple of his bitter rival.

"One punch?" he asked.

"One punch!" Chen Wang nodded forcefully, excitement in his voice that even he had not noticed. "That Han Bao from Rushing Thunder Martial Academy fought Deng Yue of Longwind Martial Hall for ages before winning, but before Junior Brother Xu, he could not even take a single punch. As soon as I heard, I went to ask Constable Qi. He said it himself. Everyone at the yamen saw it. After Junior Brother Xu finished, he did not even catch his breath. He looked as though nothing had happened."

Zhao Yan set down his teacup and remained silent for a long time.

He had heard Old Shi from the Shi Family Martial Hall mention Han Bao before.

Old Shi had said that Rushing Thunder Martial Academy had taken in several promising seedlings this year, and Han Bao was one of them.

Old Shi had also said that things were becoming increasingly difficult for their two martial halls in the western district. All the promising seedlings ran to the eastern district, leaving only crooked melons and split dates for them.

Yet now, Xu Qing had knocked that "promising seedling" down with one punch.

Zhao Yan's gaze shifted, and an unfamiliar feeling surged within him. It was not surprise, nor was it delight, but rather... doubt. Like an old tree that had grown for decades, its roots sunk deep into the earth, only for a sudden gust to set its crown swaying, until even the roots beneath the ground began to tremble.

He suddenly began to doubt himself.

He doubted the belief he had held all these years. Bone structure decided everything. That was what his master had taught him, what the books had written, and what he himself had believed all his life.

Only those with excellent bone structure could go farther. For those with below-average bone structure, Bright Force was more or less the end of the road, and the hope of breaking through to Hidden Force was slim.

But what about Xu Qing? Below-average bone structure, Bright Force in twenty days, and one punch to knock down a promising seedling from Rushing Thunder Martial Academy.

His foundation was absurdly solid, his strength absurdly great, and his progress absurdly fast. Did this truly look like someone for whom "Bright Force was the end of the road"?

Were special physiques truly useful only in the early stages? Could what his master had said, what the books had recorded, have been wrong? Could Xu Qing's physique be different? Could he reach Hidden Force? Or even... go higher?

Zhao Yan did not dare think further.

"Master." Ning Yun's voice came from beside him, gentle yet serious. He had deliberated for a long time before speaking. "When Junior Brother Xu returned yesterday, he spoke only of the appointment. He did not mention a single word about defeating someone from Rushing Thunder Martial Academy. It was not that he had no chance to say it. He simply did not want to. He was unwilling to flaunt it."

He paused, his gaze falling on Zhao Yan's profile. "A person like this does not claim credit or show off. He values loyalty and repays kindness, and his character is outstanding. He is willing to work himself to the bone in his training, his progress is rapid, and his strength is formidable. No matter how one measures him, he is worth nurturing."

Zhao Yan remained silent, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingers. Once, twice, then again. The sound was quiet, yet in the silent pavilion, every beat was crystal clear.

Ning Yun continued, "Master, this disciple knows his bone structure is below average. But bone structure is dead, while people are alive. It is not as though there have never been cases of people with below-average bone structure breaking through to Hidden Force."

His voice grew more certain. "I believe Junior Brother Xu can break through to Hidden Force. This is not blind faith. After watching him these past days, I truly believe he can make it."

He raised his head, a rare solemnity in his eyes. "With the strength Junior Brother Xu has shown now, if he breaks through to Hidden Force, our martial hall will have someone capable of carrying the banner."

He paused again, looked at Zhao Yan, and said word by word, "Master, if you do not nurture someone like him, then whom will you nurture?"

Zhao Yan raised his head and glanced at Ning Yun.

His gaze was clouded, filled with hesitation, struggle, and a trace of... fear. That fear was buried deep, like a scarred wound. It looked healed on the surface, but press hard enough, and it still hurt beneath.

He was not afraid of spending silver. Though Zhao Family Martial Hall was not wealthy, a few pills, a few bowls of medicinal soup, and several pounds of meat were nothing much. He was afraid of misjudging someone again, pouring in his heart and effort again, only to be let down again.

What had happened with Chu Sheng was like a thorn lodged in his heart. Ten years had passed, yet it had not been fully pulled out.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. That breath was long, as though he meant to empty everything from his chest.

"When he returns, have him come see me." His voice was soft, so soft it seemed squeezed from his throat.

Ning Yun's eyes brightened, and he smiled.

He knew his master had made a decision.

After leaving his aunt's home, Xu Qing returned to the martial hall.

Before he even had time to change out of his dark uniform, he was summoned to the inner courtyard.

In the pavilion, Zhao Yan sat in a grandmaster's chair, with Ning Yun still at his side. A small porcelain bottle sat on the table before them, white-glazed and sealed at the mouth with wax.

Xu Qing approached, lowered his head, and respectfully called out, "Master."

Zhao Yan said nothing. He merely looked at Xu Qing, his gaze gentler than it had ever been before.

He did not beat around the bush. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gave away no emotion. "I heard about what happened at the yamen yesterday. You defeated a disciple of Rushing Thunder Martial Academy with one punch. You brought honor to the martial hall."

Xu Qing opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Zhao Yan waved a hand and did not let him speak.

"You did not mention it because you did not want to claim credit. I know." Zhao Yan's voice remained unhurried. "I have seen your conduct and your character. I have also seen your progress and strength. Therefore—"

He extended a hand and pointed to the white-glazed porcelain bottle on the table. His knuckles were thick, veins bulging across the back of his hand. One glance was enough to clearly sense the power lying dormant beneath.

"There are three Blood-Qi Pills in that bottle. From today onward, your meat and Blood-Qi Soup will continue as before. In addition, you will receive three Blood-Qi Pills each month."

Xu Qing froze. He looked at the porcelain bottle on the table, then at Zhao Yan.

He had taken Blood-Qi Pills before. Naturally, he knew that each one was worth five taels of silver.

Three pills meant fifteen taels. Add the meat and Blood-Qi Soup, and the martial hall would be spending more than twenty taels of silver on him every month.

He did not believe he could receive such treatment merely because he had brought honor to the martial hall. There had to be something else in this, something he could not see, something his master had left unsaid.

Zhao Yan did not give him a chance to ask. After a pause, his voice softened somewhat. "There is one more thing I want to ask you."

Xu Qing raised his head and met his gaze.

"Would you be willing to... properly kowtow to me and call me Master?"

Previously, when he had provided Xu Qing with meat and medicinal soup, it had been more a form of compensation—guilt toward Ning Yun, amends for the past. But now, it was not to repay anyone's debt, nor to make up for anyone's regrets. It was for Xu Qing himself.

Xu Qing's mind buzzed.

It was not dizziness, but that droning sensation, as though something had exploded in his head.

He understood clearly what Zhao Yan's words meant.

His master wanted to take him in as a personal disciple. Not one of those nominal disciples in the outer courtyard, but a disciple his master truly acknowledged, one he would support with all his strength and teach everything he knew. He would no longer need to pay tuition or worry about silver. But none of this came for free. He would have to carry the banner and take the blows for the martial hall, and care for his master until his final days.

Chu Sheng had done so. Ning Yun had done so.

Now, it was his turn.

He was not a cold-hearted or ungrateful person. He remembered every kindness the martial hall had shown him. From that first bowl of braised pork and those two sets of training clothes, to the ever-increasing Blood-Qi Soup afterward. Whatever the reasons behind those kindnesses, he had received them in truth, worn them on his body, and swallowed them into his stomach.

He did not hesitate.

With a thud, he dropped to his knees, his knees striking the blue bricks with a dull sound.

"This disciple is willing! This disciple pays respects to Master!" he said solemnly. Then he lowered his head and slammed his forehead against the blue bricks three times—thud, thud, thud—solidly, without the slightest pretense.

Zhao Yan looked at Xu Qing kneeling on the ground, and his eyes reddened slightly. He rose, walked over, and extended his hand. That broad hand covered in bulging veins gently pressed Xu Qing's head once, then withdrew.

When his palm touched him, he could feel the warmth at the top of Xu Qing's head, hot and alive, like a brazier full of burning charcoal.

"Good. Good." His voice was a little hoarse. "Get up."

Xu Qing rose, and a feeling he had never known before welled up within him. It was not excitement, nor pride, but a deep, weighty sense of security. Like a boat that had drifted for a long time finally reaching shore, its hull touching the sand, steady and secure, no longer fearing wind or waves.

Ning Yun stood beside them, watching the scene with light in his eyes and comfort filling his heart.

Zhao Yan's gaze rested on Xu Qing. He looked at this youth who had emerged from Blackwater Bay. Even while kneeling, his back had remained perfectly straight. When he kowtowed, his forehead had struck the ground with ringing thuds.

He suddenly felt that the stone pressing on his heart all these years seemed to have grown a little lighter.

He turned around, slowly sat back in the grandmaster's chair, picked up the cup of tea that had already gone cold, and took a sip.

The tea was cold and bitter.

Yet he felt that after swallowing this bitter tea today, a sweet aftertaste lingered on his tongue.