Master Qin Takes Disciples

The Sun Family Estate was divided into eastern and western sections. The east was the yard where the crew practiced martial arts and boxing, while the west was Master Qin's exclusive domain.

Servants, maidservants, gardens, and a grand residence—all of it proved the Sun Family's respect for Master Qin.

Qin Changfeng was currently dozing beside the pool, his eyes narrowed.

His bamboo chair swayed as he occasionally reached for dried fruit and fresh fruit from the table beside him, looking as though he were peacefully spending his twilight years.

Beside him sat Sun Sheng, the Sun Family patriarch, with a trace of impatience between his brows.

"Master Qin, didn't we agree before that you'd take three disciples? It's been so long, yet there's still only Shen Wu."

Sun Sheng grabbed the kettle, poured himself a cup of water, and drained it in one gulp.

He had arrived an hour ago and talked until his mouth was dry, but Qin Changfeng had treated him like thin air.

Half a year ago, Sun Sheng's second younger brother—the Sun Family's strongest Three Refinements martial artist—had suddenly died.

Since then, among the three surnames of the inner city, the Sun Family had fallen to the bottom. The other two families had already begun squeezing the Sun Family in secret.

A lineage without martial artists to support it was like a tower built in the air.

Sun Sheng naturally understood this. Any young member of the Sun Family with talent for martial arts had been sent to various martial schools to train.

But those youngsters had grown up steeped in honey. Setting aside talent and natural aptitude, how many of them could endure the hardships of martial training?

Few of them amounted to anything. Watching his lineage decline day by day, how could Sun Sheng possibly sit still?

The Sun Family desperately needed someone to hold up its banner.

So Sun Sheng had put aside his pride and begged Qin Changfeng to take three disciples, intending to bring all three into the family as live-in sons-in-law.

"Master Qin, say something, won't you?"

Seeing Qin Changfeng still sitting there as steady as an old god, Sun Sheng finally couldn't remain seated. He got up and stood before Master Qin.

The warm autumn sun was blocked, and Qin Changfeng frowned slightly.

"Didn't I take Shen Wu? With his natural aptitude, if things go quickly, breaking through to Three Refinements by year's end won't be difficult. That'll be enough to make the other two families behave."

Qin Changfeng's tone was impatient, as though even taking Shen Wu had merely been fulfilling an obligation.

Sun Sheng gave a bitter smile.

"Master Qin, if there's only Shen Wu, I'm afraid it won't be taking in a son-in-law—it'll be inviting a wolf into the house."

Shen Wu had excellent natural aptitude, and the Sun Family had been watching him from the beginning. But Sun Sheng wasn't a fool.

For a martial artist like Shen Wu, Three Refinements wasn't the endpoint. Given time and resources, it wasn't impossible for him to break through into Force Training and contend in the martial examinations.

But the problem was, once Shen Wu had grown strong, how was the Sun Family supposed to handle itself?

That was why the Sun Family had explicitly asked for three people. Only with the three balancing one another could the Sun Family retain its authority.

"Master Qin, I'll kneel right here before you. Please, take pity on my Sun Family!"

The dignified Sun Family patriarch, Sun Sheng, a man in his forties or fifties, actually let his knees buckle as he prepared to kneel. If outsiders saw it, their eyes would probably pop out of their heads.

A trace of helplessness flashed through Qin Changfeng's eyes. Over the past two years, the Sun Family had indeed treated him well.

He didn't wish to accept such a bow, so he flicked a finger. A peanut in his hand struck Sun Sheng's leg. The latter cried out in pain and sprang back up before he could kneel.

"I understand. There won't be fewer than the three disciples we agreed on. After some time, I'll choose them myself."

"Good, good, good! Then Master Qin mustn't go back on his word!"

The grief on Sun Sheng's face instantly turned to delight. He said good three times in a row, utterly unconcerned that nearly kneeling had been humiliating.

With one worry off his mind, Sun Sheng exchanged a few pleasantries and prepared to leave.

Just then, a Sun Family boatman came running over in a panic.

"Patriarch, this is bad! Something's happened!"

"Second Master's arm was broken! He's in the estate's medicine hall right now."

"What?!"

Sun Chai's hand had been injured too badly. It was probably crippled.

Logically, a great lineage like the Sun Family would never let Wang Dali off, yet things were somewhat unusual.

Not only had the Sun Family strictly forbidden all crew members from spreading word of it, they also showed no intention of seeking trouble with the Fish-Dragon Gang.

Moreover, just a few days later, a village outside the city was ravaged by refugees. It was said that quite a few people had died.

The three great families were still handing out porridge, doing their utmost to placate the refugees. Only when the refugees had food to eat could trouble be avoided.

Rice prices continued to rise.

Not long ago, when Yao Song invited Wei Luo to escort grain from Liang, he had been thrilled at the prospect of making money hand over fist. But now, even the Yao Family's business had stopped.

The soaring grain prices frightened them.

Although Wei Luo buried himself in boxing practice every day, he hadn't ignored news from outside.

Days passed one after another, and in the blink of an eye, a month had gone by.

After entering Second Refinement, Wei Luo's treatment from the Sun Family had also improved.

His monthly pay had risen to five taels. He also received the same 100,000 doses of Bone-Strengthening Soup that Shen Wu had received every month.

It was worth mentioning that Master Qin had recently shed his lazy manner and often came to the training ground to instruct them.

In one corner of the training ground, Wei Luo stood before an ironwood training post. After gathering himself for a long time, he finally threw a heavy punch.

These ironwood training posts had only recently been added. Their wood was the same as that used on the Treasure Ship, several times harder than ordinary wooden posts.

Even Second Refinement martial artists found it difficult to break one with a single strike.

Bang—crack!

The two sounds came almost one after another. Without listening carefully two or three times, no one would have been able to distinguish them.

"Wei Luo, isn't your method of training wrong? You can't even throw a hundred punches in a day. How are you supposed to improve?"

Liu Changle said this while holding a boxing stance nearby.

Wei Luo replied without turning his head.

"Practicing boxing isn't just about brute strength. You need to use your brain."

With that, Wei Luo used the Great Thousand Revelation to deduce the progress of his boxing technique.

Seeing that it had increased, he adjusted himself once more and began gathering force again.

Liu Changle completely disagreed with Wei Luo's words. After finishing his stance work, he went to the ironwood post and assumed his posture.

His fists and feet rained down upon the post like a violent storm, the blows echoing without end.

Only after several full minutes of furious assault and hundreds upon hundreds of punches did Liu Changle stop, panting heavily as he said to Wei Luo,

"This is what practicing boxing looks like!"

Wei Luo rolled his eyes. This fellow had already touched the threshold of Second Refinement, and his boxing practice had become ever more diligent.

He only needed his vitality and blood to reach its limit. Once he ate a Treasure Fish, there was a great chance he would break through to Second Refinement.

But what Wei Luo practiced wasn't the same thing Liu Changle practiced.

He turned and looked at Qin Changfeng, who was sitting in a bamboo chair beneath the shade of a tree.

Everyone in the yard had noticed Qin Changfeng's change. Combined with Master Qin's earlier statement that he intended to take disciples, an idea had arisen in all their hearts.

Master Qin was surely selecting disciples, wanting to see just how good their boxing techniques were.

Thus, everyone in the yard had been practicing harder than the next these past few days. The clever ones even trained extra at night.

Never mind how good their boxing was—the sound of their fists striking the posts had to be loud, loud enough for Master Qin in the other yard to hear.

There were plenty of similar methods: humbly asking for guidance, sounding people out indirectly, challenging others in public, deliberately beating their fists bloody to show their perseverance... some even declared that they would care for Qin Changfeng in his old age and bury him when he died.

Everyone was doing their utmost to show what made them different.

Unfortunately, though Master Qin had frequently scrutinized them over the past many days, he still hadn't said whom he would take as a disciple.

In truth, anyone with sharp eyes had already guessed it. Only the Second Refinement martial artists in the yard had the greatest chance.

Everyone was guessing whom Master Qin would ultimately choose.

But Wei Luo didn't need to guess. He had already secured a place in advance.