Entrustment

After Hong Mingquan finished speaking, he brushed past Chen Ming and entered the mourning hall to keep vigil, leaving him no chance to ask questions.

He could only bury his doubts deep in his heart.

After a while, the appointed time arrived.

Huo Qianqian, Zhao An, and the other direct disciples carried the coffin out the door, with a crowd of guests following behind, forming a long procession to see Huo Chengkun off on his final journey.

The funeral procession only stopped after exiting the southern city gate.

In the end, Chen Ming and the others watched as Huo Qianqian, the direct disciples, and some of the Disciples-in-Name disappeared with the coffin at the end of the official road.

Huo Chengkun's coffin was to be taken to a place called Xiaoshui to be buried alongside his late wife.

Hong Mingquan was also in the funeral procession, yet he had just told Chen Ming to come find him tonight.

That was what Chen Ming found most peculiar.

There was another thing he noticed: the fourth disciple, Sun Shicai, was not in the funeral procession. Not even showing up for his master's funeral was somewhat inexcusable.

Once the funeral procession had gone far, the crowd began to disperse.

Some people murmured quietly among themselves—with Old Master Huo dead, the vast Huo Manor would likely scatter like stars and clouds.

"Actually, if Old Master Huo's disciples were willing to work together, the Huo Manor's influence wouldn't be half as weak as before. What a pity..."

Clearly, many had seen that Huo Chengkun's disciples each had their own agendas.

"Heh, Old Huo's fourth disciple is clearly in the city, yet he didn't even come for such a major event as his master's funeral. Truly..."

"Old Li, watch your words. That man is now a Patrol Envoy of Six Doors."

"So what? A filial impious man like him is beneath contempt."

"... "

Chen Ming didn't listen further and left directly.

Deng Manor.

Deng Ziyang was drinking alone in melancholy. When he saw Chen Ming enter, he said happily, "Brother, just in time. Come, have a few drinks with me."

Chen Ming walked over and sat across from him, sighing, "I didn't expect Master Huo's death to hit Brother Deng so hard."

"Bullshit!"

Deng Ziyang slammed his cup hard on the table, his face full of anger. "I'm just indignant. That day, the old bastard refused to take me as his disciple, and I swore in my heart that one day, I'd trample all his disciples under my feet right in front of him!"

As he spoke, he ground his teeth. "But the old bastard went and died just like that. Tell me, isn't that infuriating?"

Chen Ming refilled the empty cup in front of him and said, "He's dead, but his disciples are still around. He won't see it anymore, but the whole city will."

Deng Ziyang downed the wine in one gulp and said, "Heh, he got off easy."

Chen Ming offered a few more words of comfort, and Deng Ziyang gradually let it go.

"By the way, there's something I'd like to ask your advice on." He took the chance to change the subject. "I want to open a martial hall specifically for teaching children the basics of martial arts. Is there anything I should know about that?"

"Open a martial hall?"

Deng Ziyang frowned. "Forgive my bluntness, but with your skill and character, Brother, if you were willing to marry a wealthy merchant's daughter, you could use her family's resources to get your hands on a high-level cultivation method. Then, with ten years of dedicated training, you might even reach the Sixth Rank. That's the broad road. Why bother with the thankless task of running some martial hall?"

Chen Ming naturally knew that the life plan he described was indeed a shortcut for someone from a humble background like himself to climb the social ladder.

Back on Earth, plenty of people took that route—they were commonly called "phoenix men."

But if there was a choice, who would want to be a phoenix man?

He said, "Back when I studied martial arts at the Huo Manor for several years, I never grasped the essentials. When I asked the instructor, he wouldn't even acknowledge me. I wasted years there learning nothing. It wasn't until I left the Huo Manor and practiced over and over on my own that I slowly figured out the tricks..."

"I think there must be countless dull-witted people like me in the world. So I want to open a martial hall so that children like me won't waste their time because of unscrupulous instructors."

As Deng Ziyang listened, his expression grew complicated. "You... why are you always so foolish? You love doing these thankless things."

It suddenly occurred to him that Huo Chengkun had once said a martial artist needed a pure heart. Perhaps it was precisely because Chen Ming had such an untainted, pure heart that his cultivation had advanced by leaps and bounds.

Chen Ming said, "Please, Brother Deng, teach me."

Deng Ziyang replied, "Since you want to open a martial hall, I won't stop you. But it's no easy thing. There are deep intricacies to it..."

When Chen Ming left the Deng Manor, he was still digesting the information he had just gotten from Deng Ziyang.

"Good thing I came to ask Deng Ziyang before opening the martial hall, or I'd have landed in trouble."

Ancient times were nothing like Earth—beyond national law, there were clan rules. Likewise, every trade had its own guild regulations.

In Qingfeng City, there was a Martial Hall Guild, whose members were the twelve martial halls in the city. They had established a guild rule, which was essentially an excuse to band together and keep others from entering the trade.

To open a new martial hall, there were two paths.

One was to have three established martial halls jointly vouch for you.

That path was out of the question—not even Deng Ziyang had that kind of face, let alone him.

Second, they must accept the guild's trial and fight three matches. Winning all three grants the qualification to open a martial arts school.

There's also a hard rule: at least Eighth Rank cultivation is required to open a school and take disciples.

Of course, if a newcomer has enough strength—say, a Sixth Rank expert—naturally no one would dare say a word against it.

"So this is the martial world."

Chen Ming felt like he was finally touching the edge of the martial world, a restless excitement stirring within him.

Still, he needed to raise his cultivation to Eighth Rank first.

After nightfall, Chen Ming still went to Huo Manor to keep the appointment.

When he knocked, the gatekeeper who answered looked ten years older. Huo Chengkun's death had hit the servants of Huo Manor the hardest.

Chen Ming didn't say he was looking for Hong Mingquan; he just claimed he'd left something behind and came to retrieve it.

The gatekeeper didn't suspect anything and let him in.

He went straight to the courtyard where Hong Mingquan lived.

"Fifth Senior Brother."

He called out from outside the yard.

"Is that you, Uncle Chen?"

A somewhat youthful voice came from inside, and then a lantern emerged from the house, held by a boy of eleven or twelve.

It was Hong Mingquan's son, Hong Zilin.

Chen Ming asked, "Zilin, is your father here?"

"Greetings, Uncle Chen."

Hong Zilin came over to open the gate and said, "My father isn't here. He asked you to come because he has a favor to ask. Please come inside and talk."

Chen Ming saw that the boy carried himself like a little adult, with a maturity and steadiness far beyond his years, and wasn't too surprised.

In this era, many children matured early, especially those from poor families.

Several of the kids learning martial arts from him already acted like little adults.

"Alright."

Chen Ming followed him inside and found Hong Mingquan's wife, Li Shi, in the inner room. He quickly bowed and said, "Greetings, Sister-in-Law."

Though the martial world didn't have strict formalities, it was still improper for him to be alone in a room with a mother and her son late at night.

He asked, "May I ask what instructions Brother Hong had for me in calling me here?"

Hong Zilin said, "Uncle Chen, this is a letter my father wrote. You'll understand once you read it."

Chen Ming took the letter, opened it, and skimmed through it quickly. Only then did he understand why Hong Mingquan had called him over.

He wanted Chen Ming to look after his wife and son.

The letter said this trip might take ten days to half a month. The Master's Aunt might not return to Huo Manor, so he wanted to entrust his family to Chen Ming.

Chen Ming found it strange. His friendship with Hong Mingquan hadn't reached the point where he'd entrust his wife and child to him, had it?

He didn't know if Hong Mingquan was grasping at straws in desperation.

Though it was a bit troublesome, he really couldn't refuse.

No help for it—Hong Mingquan had offered too much.

He had proposed the "Five Elements Saber Technique" as payment.

This saber technique was far superior to the "Bagua Saber Technique" and was Huo Chengkun's signature style.

It was one of the things Chen Ming needed most urgently.

The "Bagua Saber Technique" was still too crude. It could only bully poor martial artists like Zhuang Xiaotian and Guan Peng. Against disciples from prestigious families, it was useless.

Hong Zilin had already presented a thick manual, respectfully saying, "My father told me to give this to you, Uncle Chen."

Chen Ming took it, flipped through it, and tucked it into his robe. "Are you coming with me now, or should I come pick you up tomorrow?"

Hong Zilin answered decisively, "We'll go now."

Soon, the mother and son came out carrying their bundles.