The Prodigal Son

Great Yan Dynasty, fifteenth year of Jingzong's reign—another year of disaster.

Qingzhou in the southeast, Greenhouse Township, Jiazi Ravine Village.

The cold wind passed through cracks in the adobe house, whirling around inside before blowing out through the mottled window, setting off a crackling rattle.

A pale young man lay on a wooden bed with his eyes tightly shut, covered by a tattered cotton quilt, his ears filled with a buzzing chorus of discussion.

"This prodigal actually pawned his sister-in-law's dowry behind her back just to please Wang Jinlian."

"What a sin. Now look at him—he's gone completely mad, finished for good."

"His eldest brother went off to work on the riverworks, and who knew when he'd be back. Now this happened to the second one too."

"This family's about to fall apart..."

Amid those murmurs came the sobbing of a woman.

Zhao Feng abruptly opened his eyes, only to discover that he was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He looked around. Before him stood a dilapidated earthen house, and the smell of mildew filled his nostrils.

Fragmented memories surged into his mind like a tide. Great Yan Dynasty, a chaotic age of martial arts... Where the hell had this sent him?

Just a month ago, he had still been a diligent corporate beast on Earth, clinging to the creed of no house, no marriage, and spending his wages only on himself, barely scraping by. Who could have imagined that he would accidentally charge headlong into a dump truck on the road and arrive in this troubled world? The Great Yan Dynasty had stood for more than five hundred years. Now, it was plagued by troubles both within and without. Bandits and criminal gangs sprang up across the land, while rebel armies stirred chaos. Beyond the borders, the northern barbarians watched like tigers eyeing their prey.

At the same time, this had caused martial training to flourish, and the status of martial artists rose with the tide.

The original owner of this body shared his name and surname. He had merely been the son of an ordinary farming household in Jiazi Ravine Village, a mud-legged peasant. His family was poor, yet he relied on his parents' indulgence to gorge himself and shirk work, loafing about all day. After someone shoved him into the water and he failed to catch his breath, Zhao Feng had taken his place.

"Wang Jinlian!" Zhao Feng recalled that name.

This woman had been betrothed to him. The original owner had stolen his sister-in-law's hairpin and pawned it for silver to buy her rouge and pork, all to please her. Yet he had caught her flirting and bantering with a local thug. When he stepped forward to reason with them, he was beaten badly and shoved into the river, losing his life.

Wang Jinlian, however, insisted that he had fallen into the water himself.

Perhaps because his soul was compatible with the body, he had survived after transmigrating, but he had been muddleheaded and half-mad. Only today had he fully awakened, his consciousness returning to its rightful place.

Just then, a line of tiny words that only he could see appeared before his eyes.

[Archery Beginner (20/1000)]

What was this? As Zhao Feng stared blankly, information about that line also appeared in his mind.

He decided to call the tiny words before him a proficiency panel.

According to the information fed back by the panel, as long as he practiced any martial skill or cultivation method persistently, his proficiency would certainly increase, and he would never encounter a bottleneck.

From the original owner's vague memories, martial masters held an extremely high status in this world.

For most martial practitioners, breaking through realms became harder with every level, one mountain higher than the next. Breakthroughs were even fraught with danger, all because of bottlenecks. But he had no bottlenecks!

This proficiency panel represented the truth that Heaven rewarded diligence!

The original owner's father was a hunter, and since childhood, the original owner had learned archery and hunting skills from him.

But after growing up, he had become lazy and gluttonous. Afraid of hardship, he had gradually given them up.

Archery also counted as a martial skill, so it had naturally been included by the panel. The original owner's pitiful foundation in archery had been quantified into a progress value.

In that case, he had every chance of relying on this proficiency panel to climb step by step to the very pinnacle of martial arts—the highest place his eyes could see!

If he could achieve success in martial arts, he could change both his own fate and his family's.

Excitement stirred in Zhao Feng's heart. He drew a deep breath and silently calculated.

"Although the panel says there are no bottlenecks, I still need to verify it. Archery minor mastery still needs several hundred points. I'll start with archery to test my martial path. If it works, I'll find a chance to enter a martial arts hall and learn martial arts."

Zhao Feng struggled to his feet and headed for the main room.

Night had already fallen. A dim lamp burned in the main room, and Zhao Feng saw his father, Zhao Youlin, sitting on the threshold.

He sat silently at the doorway, smoking a dry tobacco pipe. The ember flared and dimmed, casting light over his gray temples and weathered face.

"Mother, it's not that I'm heartless, but I can't keep going like this." A woman's tearful complaint came from within the main room. It was his sister-in-law, Tian Cuihua.

"I want to split the household."

Then came his mother Yang Shi's low, pleading voice, begging her daughter-in-law not to split the family.

"My husband went in Uncle's place to serve corvée labor, and he still hasn't returned. Now Uncle has caused such a huge mess too. I have two children—I really can't hold on..." Tian Cuihua sobbed.

Zhao Feng's heart felt heavy. At seventeen, he had reached the age for corvée labor. His elder brother Zhao Shuo had already served several times, but because he pitied his younger brother, he had volunteered to go in his place. Yet the original owner had actually stolen his sister-in-law's dowry to please someone else. He truly deserved to die!

"Father." Zhao Feng stood before Zhao Youlin and called softly.

"I'm better now."

Zhao Youlin suddenly looked up at his younger son. Light shone in his tired, clouded eyes, and disbelief covered his face.

"I'm really better. I'll go apologize to Sister-in-law."

Zhao Feng walked into the main room. Seeing him enter, Yang Shi and Tian Cuihua both fell silent.

"Sister-in-law, I was wrong. I'll definitely find a way to redeem your hairpin." Zhao Feng bowed deeply to Tian Cuihua.

"Feng'er, you're awake?" Yang Shi stared in stunned disbelief.

"Mother, I'm really better. I'm clear-headed now," Zhao Feng said.

"That's wonderful! Feng'er is better!" Yang Shi wept with joy and stepped forward to seize Zhao Feng's hand. Feeling his mother's rough, callused hand, he felt miserable.

"It's good that you're better! You can't be such a bastard from now on." Zhao Youlin came in from behind, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice. He could not bear to blame his youngest son, and there was still a trace of indulgence in his words.

"Cuihua, Feng'er is awake, and he knows he was wrong. Could you hold off on splitting the household for now? At least wait until after he gets married." He spoke to Tian Cuihua with a hint of ingratiation.

Tian Cuihua silently nodded. Her heart had simply been too bitter, and she had needed an outlet. In truth, she knew that without her parents-in-law's support, a woman raising two children alone would have an even harder life. Since her brother-in-law had awakened, it was enough as long as her father-in-law could keep him under control, no matter how worthless he was. Besides, there was nothing left in the house for him to steal anyway.

As for Zhao Feng saying he would redeem her hairpin, she did not place the slightest hope in it.

"Good, let's eat!" Zhao Youlin and Yang Shi rejoiced and immediately got busy.

Before long, several bowls of coarse rice porridge, so thin one could see their reflection in it, were set on the small square table. A few wild vegetable leaves floated on top.

The harvest had already been poor in this disaster year. Zhao Youlin had injured his leg and could not hunt. Zhao Shuo had gone to serve corvée labor, leaving the family short one able-bodied worker, while Zhao Feng had loafed about and constantly stolen household belongings to sell. Thus, the Zhao family's life had gone from bad to worse, until now they could only eat this every day.

"Feng'er, you're not fully recovered yet. Eat more." Yang Shi gave the thicker bowl to Zhao Feng.

"Mother, I'm fine." Zhao Feng shook his head, fished the coarse rice from his own bowl, and divided it between his nephew Zhao Zihuai and niece Zhao Bao'er. One was eight and the other seven, and both had yellowish faces and looked malnourished.

Zhao Zihuai and Zhao Bao'er were both afraid of their ill-tempered second uncle, who often shouted at them.

When they saw him giving them porridge, they did not dare eat it, only looking at him timidly.

Zhao Feng's heart felt even more stifled.

"Eat," he said softly.

Only after Tian Cuihua nodded did the two little ones lower their heads and begin eating.

No one spoke. Clearly, everyone was unaccustomed to seeing Zhao Feng, the habitual loafer, suddenly become sensible.

Dinner ended amid that somewhat strange atmosphere.

"Grandpa, I want to eat meat." Zhao Zihuai and Zhao Bao'er drank every drop of their porridge, but their stomachs still felt empty.

Back when Zhao Youlin's leg had not been injured, he could occasionally bring home some game.

"When spring comes next year and Grandpa's leg gets better, I'll go to Great Green Mountain and catch rabbits for you to eat," Zhao Youlin said.

Zhao Feng, however, frowned slightly. Could this body possibly be nourished properly on nothing but coarse rice porridge?

Over the following days, Zhao Feng no longer went out carousing, nor did he steal household belongings to sell for food, drink, and entertainment.

Instead, he honestly worked the fields with his family.

During the slack season, he diligently practiced archery and seriously learned hunting experience and techniques from Zhao Youlin.

More than a month later, on the barren mountain behind Zhao Family Village.

Zhao Feng drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at a simple wooden target made from the rings of a dead tree trunk thirty paces away. Whoosh! The arrow flew out and struck the edge of the target.

[Archery Beginner (979/1000)]

After more than a month of persistent daily practice, he was not far from the minor mastery level prescribed by the panel.

Zhao Feng continued drawing and shooting. The panel's progress assessment did not permit cutting corners or going through the motions. He had to focus completely and finish every shot in full.

Before he knew it, he had fired several more rounds.

"One last time!"

Enduring the numb ache in his arms, he held his breath and aimed at the wooden target.

"Whoosh!" The arrow flew out and struck the bullseye squarely.

White light flashed through his mind. The panel displayed:

[Archery Minor Mastery (1/2000)]

"I did it." He let out a long breath and sat down against a dead tree to rest.

At last, he was completely reassured about the proficiency panel. From archery beginner to minor mastery, its function had been proven real.

Over the past month, he had gained a more detailed understanding of this martial world. In this chaotic age, achieving success in martial arts was far too important for ordinary people. First, it could solve the pressing need for food and clothing, while clearly elevating one's status. If one could pass the martial examination and obtain official status, one could even reduce the harsh taxes and levies that weighed upon them like a mountain.

But before that, learning martial arts was no easy task. It was an enormous burden. He had heard that many poor children could not afford the tuition paid to a master, while the meat and medicinal supplements required afterward were also giant beasts that devoured gold. Thus, the saying "poor scholars, rich warriors" was especially apparent here.

If martial training failed, the losses were something ordinary poor families could not bear.

But Zhao Feng was different. He had the panel and Heaven's reward for diligence. As long as he could step across the threshold of martial arts, there was no possibility of failing in martial training.

Finding a way to earn enough money for tuition and enter a martial arts hall was his top priority. Of course, before that, he needed to find a way to supplement his diet with meat and strengthen his blood and vitality. Otherwise, if his physique was too poor, the martial arts hall probably would not accept him.

As for meat, the only source he could presently obtain was hunting.

Zhao Feng looked at the thick calluses on his hands and walked over to retrieve his arrows.

After reaching minor mastery in archery, according to the information fed back by the panel, he would never miss a stationary target within thirty paces. Against moving targets, he could hit five or six times out of ten.

At present, fifty paces was the limit of how far he could shoot with his own strength.

His father's battered wooden bow would also need replacing when he got the chance. It might snap at any moment. For now, he would make do with it.

Once he had rested enough and regained his strength,

Zhao Feng sharpened the tips of the only three arrows in his quiver against a bluestone. Then he rose, preparing to cross the barren mountain behind the village and enter Great Green Mountain.

While it was still early, he would see whether luck favored him and he could bring down some prey. Having reviewed hunting knowledge with his father during this time, he had gained some understanding of tracking animal traces.