Innate Sacred Body

The longer Ye Qingyao fought, the more alarmed she became.

"How is this possible?" She was stunned.

Qin Zhong was a tough brute, born with immense strength and a solid foundation. Yet even he had spent a full two weeks learning Wing Chun's Eight Slashes. Only after she had scolded him countless times had he barely found the nerve to draw his blade.

But Li Xiang had practiced for a day and a half at most. Not even two days.

Never mind his natural aptitude. Just look at his insight and talent for martial arts.

Could his talent rival mine? Was he also an Innate-Born, born for this life?

Innate-Born—some people seemed to have crossed the Bridge of Helplessness without finishing their bowl of Meng Po's soup. They were born carrying some trace of their previous life, or something buried deep in their bones.

Such people stood out from childhood, with advantages in certain Professions that others could only envy.

She had once met someone with an Innate Chef Sacred Body. At three, they could distinguish a hundred spices. At five, they could take charge of a stove, cooking dishes that brought tears of happiness to those who ate them.

Then there were those with an Innate Fishing Sacred Body. They could toss a hookless bamboo pole into a river, and fish would still willingly bite.

As Ye Qingyao pondered this, her movements slowed for an instant and her thoughts drifted.

In a clash between experts, even a moment's distraction could be fatal.

The old Li Xiang might not have seized the opening.

But Li Xiang now had the Boxer's explosive Dragon Spine, the Painter's powers of observation, and the Swordsman's courage to wield a blade!

An opening!

A sharp light flashed in Li Xiang's eyes.

Without hesitation, the dragon of his spine snapped into motion. His left blade knocked aside Ye Qingyao's slightly sluggish attack, while his right blade traced a strange arc, as effortless and elusive as an antelope hanging its horns on a branch.

Swish!

Cold steel pressed against Ye Qingyao's slender neck.

The training room fell deathly silent.

Li Xiang's right hand stopped steadily in midair, the blade less than a millimeter from the artery in Ye Qingyao's neck. He could feel her pulse beneath her smooth skin through the steel.

Ye Qingyao froze.

She looked at Li Xiang, who stood so close. His eyes, usually warm with a hint of a smile, were now cold as ice, carrying a murderous intent that chilled her to the bone.

A heartbeat later, that chill vanished.

Li Xiang gave an involuntary start. He hurriedly withdrew his blade and stepped back, putting on a harmless smile.

"Senior Sister, losing focus is a cardinal sin for a martial artist." Li Xiang raised his brows with a grin that begged to be punched. "If we'd been fighting to the death, that slash would have cut your life short."

Ye Qingyao came back to herself, her ears faintly red.

Part of it was embarrassment at being dealt a finishing blow by a novice who had only just joined. Part of it was that, for an instant, she had truly felt the threat of death from Li Xiang—and he had shown killing intent.

"You've certainly grown bold. Now you even dare tease me."

Ye Qingyao touched her neck, as though she could still feel the lingering cold.

"Don't get too pleased with yourself. I went easy on you because I was afraid of hurting you. I didn't use Martial Force. If I had, you wouldn't have lived to see tomorrow's sun after my first strike." She was telling the truth.

"But... you pass."

Ye Qingyao put away her blades and waved him off. "That's enough for today. Now get lost."

"Got it. Thanks for the pointers, Senior Sister!"

Li Xiang knew better than to tug a tiger's whiskers. He cupped his fists in salute, turned, and quickly left the training room.

Dusk was already falling.

As Li Xiang stepped out of the rear courtyard, he saw Qin Zhong waiting beside the moon gate.

The big man had finished training long ago. He had changed out of his sweat-soaked practice clothes into a respectable dark-blue silk robe, with a brand-new pair of round-toed cloth shoes on his feet. He had even slicked his hair back with oil until it shone.

If not for his honest face and the bulging muscles his clothes could not hide, he might have passed for a wealthy young gentleman.

"Well, Senior Brother Qin, that's quite an outfit," Li Xiang teased.

"You've got a good eye." Qin Zhong chuckled, walked over, and slung an arm around Li Xiang's shoulders.

"Come on. I'm taking you somewhere good for a feast, and to broaden your horizons."

"Somewhere good?" Li Xiang paused.

"Don't ask. You'll know when we get there." Qin Zhong pushed Li Xiang toward the dormitory.

"Hurry up, wash, and get out of those practice clothes. Put on something presentable. At a place like that, they judge your clothes before they judge you. Dress too shabby, and the guards won't even let you through the door."

Li Xiang was puzzled, but with Qin Zhong acting so mysterious, he did not want to spoil his plans.

Back in his room, he quickly washed the sweat from his body.

He opened his rattan trunk and rummaged through it.

Most of his clothes were old and faded from washing. Only one outfit had been kept tucked away at the bottom.

It was a moon-white brocade robe. The workmanship was not top-tier, but somewhere like Blackwater Ancient Town, it still counted as a luxury.

Li Xiang dressed and stood before the mirror.

The man in the mirror was tall and straight-backed. After being tempered by Dragon-Tiger Soup, his once-thin frame now filled out the robe.

An air of scholarly refinement mingled with something bold about him. He looked like a polished gentleman returned from abroad, or a young schoolteacher with a head full of learning.

If he held a folding fan, he would look even more like a dashing scholar.

"Well, well, well."

Qin Zhong circled Li Xiang twice when he emerged, then could not help clicking his tongue. "Brother, I never knew. Once you clean yourself up, you're a pretty boy... no, the Star of Literature come down to earth."

"On you, those clothes serve the man, not the other way around."

Qin Zhong gave him a thumbs-up. "Looking like that, you could just stand there when we arrive and draw admirers like flowers draw bees and butterflies."

"Enough joking around." Li Xiang straightened a cuff. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Quit asking. You'll find out when we get there."

They left the martial arts school.

Qin Zhong stood by the road and waved.

"Rides!"

Before long, two gleaming Rickshaws stopped in front of them.

Both pullers were sturdy young men in their early twenties. One look at their legs told Li Xiang they had trained a little.

At the sight of Qin Zhong, both men immediately bowed, their faces full of respectful smiles.

"Need a ride, Seventh Master?"

"Mm." Qin Zhong nodded. "The Qin String House."

"Right away, Seventh Master. Sit tight!"

The two pullers beamed.

Li Xiang stared from the side, a little dumbfounded.

Seventh Master?

He glanced at Qin Zhong.

At the martial arts school, this big man was just an honest senior disciple who cooked and tended the fire for Hong Tianbao, and got chewed out mercilessly by Ye Qingyao.

Who would have thought he carried himself with such authority on the streets of Linjiang County once he stepped outside the school?

"Get in, brother."

Qin Zhong called to him, then hopped into one of the rickshaws.

Li Xiang climbed into the one behind without standing on ceremony.

The two rickshaws raced one after the other through Linjiang County's bustling streets.

Sitting in the rickshaw, Li Xiang looked at Qin Zhong's broad back ahead and could not resist asking the young man pulling him a question.

"Say, could I ask you something?"

"Ask away, sir. If I know the answer, I won't hold anything back." Seeing that Li Xiang was with Seventh Master Qin, the puller was exceedingly respectful.

"You called him Seventh Master just now?"

"Of course!"

As he ran, the puller said proudly, "Seventh Master Qin is the leader around here. Ever since he became Master Hong's disciple and found his way into the martial world, his fighting skills have been beyond question."

"A while back, an out-of-town gang tried to collect protection money from our rickshaw company. Seventh Master Qin took on more than a dozen men with axes, all by himself and barehanded, and knocked every one of them flat."

"Ever since then, all the rickshaw pullers around here have called him Seventh Master Qin."

"And..." The puller lowered his voice. "Seventh Master Qin has Grandmaster Hong backing him. Even the patrolmen show him some respect."

Li Xiang listened, thoughtful.

With someone in the family to back you up, there's no need to worry about getting things done.

That was the law of survival in these chaotic times.

Strength was power, and connections were status.

Qin Zhong seemed simple and honest, but he was shrewd beneath that rough exterior. With Hong Tianbao's influence behind him and genuine martial skills of his own, he had carved out a place for himself among Linjiang County's rickshaw companies in less than half a year.

"Then what kind of place is the Qin String House?" Li Xiang asked.

At the mention of those three words, the puller's steps seemed to grow lighter, and a knowing smile spread across his face.

"Sir, it's the biggest place to burn through money in Linjiang County. A place for gentlemen to open their eyes."

"Open their eyes?"

"You bet!"

The puller chuckled. "That place has everything, whether it's for the little eye or the big one."

"Chess, calligraphy, painting, music, singing, and dancing—they're skilled at it all. Every lady inside is a beauty with a lovely voice. And they don't just have beauties from our Great Xin Dynasty. I hear they even have foreign women."

"As long as you've got money, you're the emperor in there."

The corner of Li Xiang's mouth twitched.

He understood.

The little eye and the big one.

The Qin String House sounded elegant, but it was a brothel.

A high-end one at that, an all-in-one establishment for entertainment, dining, and lodging.

The people of this world really were full of surprises. So that was how they meant to broaden his horizons.

Li Xiang looked at Qin Zhong's back in the rickshaw ahead and muttered, "Who would've thought Qin Zhong, with that honest face of his, was into this sort of thing?"

Appearances really could be deceiving.

The Rickshaw passed through several main streets and turned into a brightly lit lane.

Before they arrived, the sounds of strings and flutes floated to them on the night breeze, mingled with the heavy scent of perfume and powder.

Ahead, a five-story building of carved wood rose against the night.

Red lanterns hung high, and colorful silk banners fluttered.

All manner of luxurious cars and sedan chairs crowded the entrance. The people coming and going were finely dressed dignitaries and officials.

Above the doors, three gilded characters gleamed in the lamplight.

[Qin String House]