Cutting In

These three hundred silver dollars.

Were Qu Yuzhi's private savings, accumulated over several years.

As a teacher at National No. 3 Secondary School, his income counted as middle-tier in a major city like Peace City.

He earned 176 silver dollars a month.

Yet as a live-in son-in-law, he handed most of his monthly salary over to his wife, keeping only thirty silver dollars for himself. With daily necessities and books to buy, and the occasional meal out with friends, he could save only a few to a dozen-odd silver dollars each month.

This time, to pay his nephew's quota fee, he had taken out almost all his private savings.

Steward Chen accepted the documents and envelope. He first broke the seal on the kraft-paper envelope, counted the banknotes, and confirmed their authenticity before nodding and reading the documents in his hand. "Jiang Second Dog? What kind of rustic lowborn name is that? And... why isn't his surname Qu?"

"He is my distant nephew. After he enters the martial arts school, we'll change his name to something more refined."

Qu Yuzhi said with an ingratiating smile.

"...He's already eighteen this year."

Seeing the age column, Steward Chen smacked his lips, his drooping mustache twitching along with them. "Starting martial arts at this age is truly rather late. Even if he becomes an apprentice, his chance of entering the inner school is only ten percent. This quota may well go down the drain. You should think it over carefully!"

The best age to practice martial arts was between twelve and sixteen.

If one was too young, the body had not fully developed. One could only lay foundations, eat more meat and vegetables, and nourish one's blood and vitality. One could not directly begin martial arts training, or else one would suffer stunted development and depleted blood and vitality.

Once one was older, the bones and sinews had already settled into shape.

It was not that training was impossible, but for those of average talent or no talent, beginning martial arts at this age meant progress would be painfully slow, with hope slim indeed. Even after ten-odd years of bitter cultivation, they would be unable to truly set foot in the realm of martial artists.

The path of martial arts.

Was one step ahead, step after step ahead.

That was also why martial arts experts mostly came from aristocratic clans and powerful families, rather than poor households or the lower classes.

Poor households rarely produced distinguished children, though once in a while, they could still produce one or two experts.

After all, some poor households were merely once-glorious families that had fallen into decline. They still possessed foundations, wealth, and secret medicines.

Those wretched souls at the bottom of society or country folk, however, could not produce even a single martial arts expert. If one of them managed through sheer luck and opportunity to become a formal martial artist, he would already count as a genius among them.

"Even ten percent is enough, even ten percent."

"I only wish to seek a sliver of opportunity for my distant nephew."

Hearing Steward Chen's assessment, Qu Yuzhi was not discouraged in the slightest and merely repeated himself.

He was only a schoolteacher and knew nothing of such things. The Qu Household did indeed have martial arts experts, but that had nothing to do with him, a live-in son-in-law of the Fifth Branch. He had no chance to come into contact with them at all.

"Fine, fine, then..."

Steward Chen shook his head and smiled helplessly, about to agree.

"Steward! Steward Hu has something he asked me to pass on to you!"

At that moment, a young menial suddenly ran out from inside the training grounds, then leaned close and whispered several words into his ear.

Steward Chen's expression was calm at first, but then he frowned slightly.

"Go back and report to Steward Hu. Tell him I understand."

He waved the menial away.

Then Steward Chen sighed. "Brother Li, Brother Qu, I'm afraid I can no longer handle this matter."

After speaking, he returned the documents and the already-opened kraft-paper envelope.

"Ah? This..."

Qu Yuzhi's smile froze, and he did not immediately reach out to accept them.

Li Zhongru had remained silent until now, but he too furrowed his brow. "Brother Chen, why is that? Wasn't this already settled?"

It had clearly been all but done just now.

A menial suddenly came over and whispered a few words, and the matter simply fell through?

"There are no apprentice quotas left in the martial arts school this year."

Steward Chen was somewhat helpless as well. "Brother Li, I failed to settle this matter properly. Next weekend, I'll treat you to a meal at Willow Moon Tower as an apology. Bring Brother Qu along as well."

"How could there suddenly be no quotas? Didn't you tell me a few days ago that there were still two apprentice quotas?"

"Just now, Steward Hu sent someone to tell me that the Qu Household's Seventh Branch will be sending over two illegitimate sons tomorrow. They have taken those two apprentice quotas, and Steward Hu had already completed the procedures for them."

"How could this be? How could this be?"

Li Zhongru was nearly speechless. The quotas had suddenly been snatched away, and by members of the Qu Household at that. He simply could not make head or tail of it.

"Cough!"

Seeing that the atmosphere had turned somewhat awkward, Steward Chen merely coughed a few times and directly stuffed the documents and kraft-paper envelope into Qu Yuzhi's hands. "Brother Qu, I hear you belong to the Qu Household's Fifth Branch. Could these people from the Seventh Branch have some grievance against you? No, that cannot be right. How could this be such a coincidence?"

Even if there had been old grudges, they could not possibly have chosen precisely this moment.

"No, the Seventh Branch and our Fifth Branch have always been on very good terms."

At Steward Chen's words, Qu Yuzhi's face paled. "Whether this succeeds or not, Brother Li and Brother Chen have already shown us boundless kindness by helping. I should still be the one to host the meal next weekend. But there is an urgent matter at home now, so I will not trouble you further. I'll be taking my leave first."

After saying that, he left the martial arts school looking somewhat dazed.

"Brother Qu! Brother Qu! Wait!"

Even Li Zhongru's shouts from behind seemed to go unheard.

"This Brother Qu may be a schoolteacher, but he runs quite fast. Seems he exercises a fair bit in his daily life."

Seeing that the man had already gone far away, Li Zhongru could only return helplessly. He then said to Steward Chen, "Brother Chen, even if the apprentice quotas are full, aren't there still menial positions? I heard that if martial arts school menials perform well, they can become apprentices after one or two years."

Watching this man's utterly carefree appearance, Steward Chen only waved his folding fan and stroked his drooping mustache. "Brother Li! Anyone with eyes can see that there is quite a serious conflict within the Qu Household."

"Even if there are still a few menial quotas in the school, I would not dare risk offending people again."

Though he did covet those several hundred silver dollars, if the household affairs of a great family had not been resolved, he would have to be stuffed senselessly full to go and do such a thankless task for an overage apprentice.

The gains did not make up for the losses.

"Is that really so?"

Li Zhongru frowned slightly after hearing this.

They were all members of the same great family. Would they really make such a fuss over a single martial arts school apprentice quota?

Having studied in the Western Ocean since childhood, he found it difficult to understand.

"...What else could it be?"

Steward Chen's drooping mustache quivered as he smiled bitterly.

He truly did not know whether this rich young master's confusion was an act or genuine.

After Jiang Jingnian stepped into the realm of martial artists, he pulled his rickshaw with even greater vigor and ran even faster. At the same time, he could train the circulation of his blood and vitality.

The training of the Blood Core.

Was to use and practice it diligently, making the quality of one's blood and vitality tougher and denser.

He applied the Blood Core's power to his legs intermittently, using it for a while and stopping for a while. Through this repeated training, he not only ran faster while pulling the rickshaw and dispelled fatigue, but also purified the quality of his blood and vitality.

In merely one day.

The Blood Core in his Cinnabar Field had grown slightly stronger.

"I study and train so diligently, and my progress is not bad. Perhaps I count as a martial arts prodigy found once in ten thousand."

"As long as I enter the martial arts school, I can obtain a legal identity as a martial artist. Then I can quietly build my strength and soar into the sky in this chaotic age."

After becoming a martial artist, Jiang Jingnian remained full of hope for the future.

The reason he had shamelessly begged Fifth Uncle to help secure a martial arts school quota was because the foreign settlement had a Martial Restriction Order.

It was like a work permit.

All martial artists in the foreign settlement had to be registered. This granted them certain privileges and resources, while also making them easier to manage.

Martial artists fighting on stages or challenging schools did indeed result in casualties. Neither the foreign Patrol Bureau nor the Chen State military police in Peace City would interfere with that.

If one or two people died occasionally, so long as matters did not escalate into heavy civilian casualties, it remained within an acceptable range.

After all, martial artists themselves belonged to a privileged class.

But there was a prerequisite.

That martial artist had to be legally registered.

Since ancient times, knights-errant had used martial prowess to violate prohibitions.

Without management, registration, rules, and regulations to intimidate and restrain them, the foreign patrol force would likely have to fight public-order battles in the alleys every day. Wealthy people would be robbed, murdered, and kidnapped daily, while ordinary citizens would be casually slaughtered.

If that happened, Peace City would not even be able to maintain its surface-level order.

Apart from legal martial artists.

The illegal ones either fled elsewhere or entered the Stockade and became Black Warriors.

As usual, Jiang Jingnian pulled his rickshaw until dusk. Then, carrying today's earnings of 1.9 silver dollars, he went to a shop and repaid some money.

With his pockets empty again, he found another familiar restaurant, haggled with the proprietor for a while, and amid playing dumb and feigning ignorance, borrowed another six silver dollars.

Ordinary people, especially laborers at the bottom of society, would never borrow money unless driven to the end of the road.

Yet that created a counterintuitive misunderstanding.

Because once they truly reached the end of the road, no one would dare lend them money anymore. Such borrowers were plainly at the end of their tether and certainly could not repay it.

Jiang Jingnian seemed to borrow money easily because he was strong and sturdy, had a stable income, borrowed small sums, and repaid money often. He borrowed quickly and repaid quickly, making him the sort of person with "excellent credit."

Though most of the money he repaid came from robbing Peter to pay Paul, borrowing new debts to repay old ones—essentially using loans to support loans.

But this world had neither big data nor a credit-reporting system. Investigating things slowly by primitive methods, so long as nothing immediately blew up, it would take more than a few months to uncover the truth.

He relied on nothing more than a time gap and an information gap.

Delighted, Jiang Jingnian took the money to a nearby market. For 1.2 silver dollars, he bought three jin of fine braised beef and several sesame-sauce flatbreads, wrapped them up, and carried them into the neighboring alley to eat.

One did not flaunt one's wealth.

For a rickshaw puller to occasionally eat an extra meal of meat was perfectly normal. But if he ate meat and fish lavishly every day, and in such large portions, being seen would inevitably invite unnecessary trouble.

Therefore, whenever he bought meat, he would not visit the same shop a second time within the same week.

He also ate in unfixed little alleys. He avoided crowded alleys and chose only quiet corners with few people.

After devouring his dinner like a whirlwind sweeping away clouds, he prepared to finish work and return home. He did not plan to pull the rickshaw that night.

He wanted to properly practice the boxing forms of the Taiji Vajra Art.

The current Jiang Jingnian lacked both a training ground and people to spar with. Once home, he could only curl up in his tiny room to practice boxing, with nothing to use as a reference.

And his only avenue rested entirely on Fifth Uncle.

As for revealing his current martial artist identity to Fifth Uncle.

He had naturally considered it.

Yet after thinking of Fifth Uncle's circumstances and certain uncertain risks, he ultimately weighed the pros and cons and held himself back.

Once he joined the martial arts school in the future, he would have a proper explanation anyway.

Jiang Jingnian dragged his rickshaw back to the courtyard residence at 129 West River Road.

The moment he stepped through the main gate.

He heard people arguing in the inner rooms.