Undercurrents Stirring

Zhang Shan stood rooted to the spot, dazed. The words "go brew me a pot of tea" buzzed in his ears, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

He watched Chen Fan turn and walk back toward the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion, tall and composed, as though everything that had just happened was no more than a casual flick of dust from his robes.

Around them, a deathly silence reigned.

Wang Chong was still kneeling on the ground, clutching his burning cheek, his face full of humiliation and venomous resentment.

The other outer disciples were all as silent as cicadas in winter, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Daoist Xuanli wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and glared fiercely at Wang Chong, looking as though he wanted to skin him alive and swallow him whole. Then he hurried after Chen Fan, a fawning smile spreading across his face once more.

"Young Master Zhao, Young Master Zhao, please calm down. I'll make sure this bastard is severely punished!"

Chen Fan did not look back. He merely waved a hand and walked through the courtyard gate.

Daoist Xuanli did not dare follow him any farther. He could only stop at the gate and turn to the disciples standing there like wooden chickens. "What are you staring at? Get back and copy the Scripture of Purity and Tranquility a hundred times! Wang Chong, get your ass to the Discipline Hall!"

The people on the training ground scattered like startled birds and beasts in an instant.

Only Zhang Shan remained standing there in a daze, until Chen Fan called out again impatiently from the courtyard.

"Where's the tea?"

Zhang Shan jolted awake as if from a dream and scrambled into the kitchen in a side room of the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion.

A quarter of an hour later, Zhang Shan carefully approached Chen Fan with a tray, his hands shaking like fallen leaves in the autumn wind.

Quite a bit of water had already spilled from the teacup.

"You... young master, your tea..."

Chen Fan leaned back in his bamboo chair without opening his eyes and merely grunted in acknowledgment.

Zhang Shan set the teacup on the stone table, then stood helplessly to one side with his head lowered, not even daring to glance at Chen Fan.

He was just an unfortunate soul whose family had suffered a disaster. With both parents dead and himself on the verge of starvation, he had sold himself to the temple as a menial servant. If not for Young Master Zhao today, Wang Chong would probably have beaten him to death.

But he could not understand why.

Why had Eldest Young Master Zhao, who was said to be even more arrogant and overbearing than Wang Chong, saved him?

The courtyard was quiet, save for the orange cat licking its paws in a corner by the wall.

"How old are you?"

Chen Fan's voice broke the silence.

Zhang Shan froze for a moment before realizing the question was meant for him. He hurriedly replied, "Y... young master, I'm fifteen."

"Your parents?"

"...They're both gone." Zhang Shan's voice grew quiet. "There was a famine the year before last. They... starved to death."

Chen Fan opened his eyes.

He looked at the youth before him, thin as a bean sprout, his Daoist robes washed pale and several bruises still marking his face.

Another poor wretch.

In this world, human lives were worth less than grass. Whether it was himself in his previous life, Zhao Long in this life, or Zhang Shan before him, they were all merely struggling in the torrent of the times.

The only difference was that some were aboard dragon boats, while others clung to broken planks.

"From now on, you'll stay here. Washing clothes, cooking, sweeping the courtyard-you know how to do all that, right?"

"Yes! Yes! I can do anything!" Zhang Shan was so excited he nearly fell to his knees.

Staying at the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion meant he would never again have to squeeze onto the communal sleeping platform with the others in the outer sect, never again have to fetch water and chop firewood before dawn, and, better still, never again have to watch the likes of Wang Chong for signs of displeasure.

This place was practically paradise.

"All right." Chen Fan picked up his teacup and blew on it. "As long as I'm Zhao Long, no one will dare lay a hand on you again."

He simply thought having someone to attend to him was more convenient than doing everything himself. Saving a life along the way cost him no more than a breath to blow away dust; it was merely a lift of his hand.

Why not?

Hearing this, Zhang Shan felt his eyes grow hot. He fell heavily to his knees and knocked his forehead against the ground before Chen Fan with an audible thud.

"Thank you for your great kindness, young master!"

Chen Fan paid him no mind and continued drinking his tea.

Over the next few days, Chen Fan's life grew even more comfortable.

Zhang Shan was quick and diligent. Though small and thin, he worked hard. He kept the entire Listening to Bamboo Pavilion in perfect order and saw to Chen Fan's meals and tea every day without a hitch.

Chen Fan remained as lazy as ever. Each day, he either fed the cat or read, and occasionally lay down in his bamboo chair and slept the whole afternoon away.

One day, he woke from his afternoon nap to find Zhang Shan standing in a corner of the courtyard, secretly practicing some moves from the pile of martial arts manuals he had discarded.

He was practicing the opening stance of the Stone-Shattering Fist: the horse stance.

But his posture was crooked and unsteady, leaving him looking comically ridiculous.

Chen Fan watched for a while and found it somewhat hard on the eyes.

"Lower your waist."

He spoke lazily.

Startled by the sudden voice, Zhang Shan stiffened and nearly fell over. He turned to see that Chen Fan was awake, and his face instantly flushed red.

"You... young master, I..."

"I said, lower your waist some more and spread your legs." Chen Fan shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again.

Zhang Shan froze.

He had thought the young master would punish him for secretly learning martial arts, but instead... the young master was actually giving him pointers?

He did not dare dwell on it and hurriedly adjusted his stance as Chen Fan had instructed.

Though they were only two brief instructions, Zhang Shan felt his lower body become much steadier at once, a surge of strength rising from the soles of his feet.

Wild with joy, he held Chen Fan's words as a guiding standard.

From then on, whenever Zhang Shan was not attending to Chen Fan, he spent every spare moment practicing tirelessly in the courtyard.

And Chen Fan would occasionally toss out a pointer or two while pretending to doze.

"Raise your hands."

"Sink your Qi into your Dantian. I didn't tell you to hold your breath."

"Your steps. Make them steadier."

He was merely bored, and watching those clumsy stances was truly uncomfortable.

But he had not noticed that Zhang Shan, a seemingly frail youth, possessed remarkably good Root Bone for martial arts.

Whatever Chen Fan said, he grasped it immediately and could apply it to other situations. In just over ten days, he had already learned to perform the rudimentary Stone-Shattering Fist with proper form. His fists whistled through the air, and he even had a bit of presence.

I couldn't master it, but you did... Chen Fan muttered inwardly.

One day, Zhang Shan punched a stone lock used to test strength in the courtyard.

Thud!

With a muffled impact, the stone lock, which weighed a full hundred jin, actually rocked back and forth three times.

Chen Fan was feeding the orange cat dried fish. Hearing the noise, he lifted an eyelid and glanced over.

Interesting.

That body was an excellent prospect for martial arts, stronger by an unknown number of times than Zhao Long's hollowed-out shell.

If he were given a superior cultivation method, perhaps he really could make something of himself on the martial path.

Chen Fan looked away and continued teasing the orange cat with the dried fish, his face betraying not the slightest ripple.

The next day, when Daoist Master Xuanli came, he brought the Azure Yang Temple's best breathing method.

"Take it and practice hard."

Chen Fan tossed the breathing method into Zhang Shan's arms, then turned and walked away.

Zhang Shan was left standing alone, staring blankly at the breathing method.

Unlike the leisure and comfort of the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion,

the atmosphere in the outer disciples' courtyard was oppressive.

The red mark from Daoist Xuanli's slap still lingered on Wang Chong's face. Ever since he had been made to kneel in public on the training ground that day, he had become the laughingstock of the entire outer sect.

The fellow disciples who used to follow him now went out of their way to avoid him.

His heart was full of venomous resentment, with nowhere to vent it.

The punishment in the Discipline Hall and his master's scolding distressed him less than the looks of contempt and ridicule from his fellow disciples.

This was all because of that good-for-nothing Zhao Long!

What gave a wastrel who relied on his father the right to make him lose face?!

Late at night, all was quiet.

Wang Chong slipped out of his room and made his way to a secluded corner on the mountain behind the temple.

He took a fire starter from his robes and waved it five times toward an old locust tree, three long and two short.

Before long, a dark figure darted out of the woods.

"Daoist Wang, what urgent business brings you here so late?" The newcomer's voice was hoarse, and he carried the smell of blood.

"Cut the nonsense!" Wang Chong lowered his voice, pulled a sheet of paper from his robes, and thrust it at him. "This is a map of the Azure Yang Temple, along with the times the patrol disciples change shifts."

The dark figure took the map, glanced at it by moonlight, and smiled.

"You've really spared no expense, Daoist Wang. Go on, what do you want us from Black Wind Mountain to do?"

"Zhao Long!" Wang Chong said through clenched teeth, enunciating each word. "The county magistrate's son is hiding in the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion!"

"I want him dead!"

"And I want him to die horribly!"

The dark figure put the map away. "A wastrel won't be difficult. But the Azure Yang Temple isn't a place to be trifled with, and Temple Master Xuanyangzi's Green Yang Swordsmanship is no joke."

"He's a good-for-nothing!" Wang Chong said urgently. "He only has one newly recruited little servant with him! As long as you avoid the patrols and sneak into the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion, killing him will be as easy as turning over your hand!"

"Once it's done, my uncle will find a way to help you delay the county yamen's suppression campaign by half a month!"

The dark figure fell silent for a moment.

"All right."

"I'll pass the message along. But how we go about it is up to our chief."

With that, the dark figure flickered and vanished into the night.

Wang Chong stood where he was, a savage smile appearing on his face.

Zhao Long, let's see how arrogant you can be this time!