A Grandmaster in the Making

Life at the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion remained as dull and comfortable as ever.

Chen Fan tossed the last scrap of dried fish to the orange cat at his feet, which had grown as round as a ball.

The cat purred contentedly and rubbed its furry head against his calf.

In an open space not far away, Zhang Shan was practicing his punches.

He was bare-chested, and sweat had soaked his trousers, which clung to his lean but increasingly defined muscles.

Whoosh!

He threw a punch, the rush of air clearly audible as it slammed into the stone weight in the courtyard.

"Thud!"

The hundred-jin stone weight gave a muffled thump and began to sway violently.

Chen Fan lifted his eyelids and glanced over.

In just over half a month, the boy had already gained some mastery of the rudimentary Stone-Shattering Fist.

Back then, Chen Fan himself had been unable to hold a horse stance for even fifteen breaths.

The difference between people really was enormous.

He looked away and closed his eyes again to rest.

No matter how good his talent is, can he eat it? Can it be as comfortable as having three wives and four concubines?

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard.

They were not the fawning little steps of Daoist Xuanli, but steady and forceful, with a bearing that commanded respect without anger.

Chen Fan frowned. His rare moment of peace had been disturbed again.

The courtyard gate was pushed open.

An old Daoist entered, dressed in a blue-green robe, with a lean face and hair and beard as white as snow.

Xuanli followed behind him, sweat pouring down his face. When Xuanli saw Chen Fan in the courtyard, he forced a smile uglier than a grimace and started to say something, but the old Daoist stopped him with a gesture.

The old Daoist did not look at Chen Fan. His attention was fixed entirely on Zhang Shan, who was practicing his punches.

Zhang Shan stopped as well. Seeing the visitor, he seemed at a loss.

"Continue," the old Daoist said succinctly.

Zhang Shan instinctively looked at Chen Fan.

Chen Fan waved a hand, signaling him to do as he pleased.

Zhang Shan took a deep breath, assumed his stance again, and performed the entire Stone-Shattering Fist routine from beginning to end.

His fists whistled through the air, every blow fierce as a tiger.

Compared to half a month ago, it was the difference between heaven and earth.

The old Daoist nodded repeatedly as he watched. He walked up to Zhang Shan and lightly placed two fingers on the meridians in his arm.

A moment later, unmistakable excitement appeared on his previously calm face.

"Good! Excellent Root Bone! Excellent comprehension!"

He turned to Xuanli, who stood nearby.

"Whose disciple is this boy?"

Daoist Xuanli hastily bowed. "Temple master, he... he has no master yet. He's... a menial servant in Young Master Zhao's courtyard."

Temple master?

Chen Fan finally opened his eyes.

This was Daoist Xuanyangzi, the true master of the Azure Yang Temple.

He was a martial arts expert in Qinghe County who could cleave through three feet of bluestone with a single sword strike.

Xuanyangzi paid no heed to Xuanli's answer. He simply stared at Zhang Shan as though he had discovered a piece of peerless uncut jade.

"Would you be willing to take me as your master?"

Everyone in the courtyard was shocked.

Daoist Xuanli's mouth fell open wide enough to fit an egg.

The temple master wants to take a disciple himself?

Xuanyangzi had not taken a personal disciple in ten years!

Zhang Shan was dumbfounded too. He stared blankly at Xuanyangzi, then looked at Chen Fan, who lay on the reclining chair nearby as though it had nothing to do with him. For a moment, he did not know how to react.

Becoming the temple master's disciple would send him soaring to the heavens in a single bound!

It was an honor none of the Azure Yang Temple's outer disciples would have dared dream of!

Xuanli stood to the side, anxiously rubbing his hands and repeatedly signaling Zhang Shan to agree at once.

Zhang Shan finally came to his senses.

He did not go to Xuanyangzi.

Instead, he dropped to his knees before Chen Fan with a thud.

He knocked his head heavily against the ground.

"Young Master, you saved my life and gave me a place to stay."

"My life belongs to you, Young Master."

"If you don't give the word, I'm not going anywhere!"

His words rang with conviction.

Xuanli's face went pale in an instant.

It's over! This fool!

Xuanyangzi was taken aback as well. Only then did he take a proper look at the young man who had been lying in the chair since he entered, too lazy even to move.

A lazy, dissolute young master, gold and jade on the outside, rotten stuffing within.

That was his first impression of Zhao Long.

Yet now, this good-for-nothing, whom he had considered worthless, held the future of a martial arts prodigy in his hands.

Xuanyangzi frowned.

"Young Master Zhao," he said, trying to keep his tone calm, "this boy is a martial arts prodigy seen only once in a hundred years. Given time, he may well glimpse the Grandmaster realm. Keeping him at your side as a menial servant would be a wanton waste of a heaven-sent gift."

Grandmaster?

Chen Fan yawned.

Sounds impressive.

But what the hell does that have to do with me?

He looked at Zhang Shan, kneeling on the ground with a look of determination, then at the grave-faced Xuanyangzi.

What a nuisance.

Isn't this just about taking a disciple? Why make it look like a parting between life and death?

"Do you want to take him as your master?" Chen Fan asked Zhang Shan.

Zhang Shan froze, then nodded emphatically, only to shake his head at once. "I'll do as you say, Young Master!"

"He wants to take you as his disciple?" Chen Fan turned to Xuanyangzi.

Xuanyangzi nodded, his face solemn.

"All right, then."

Chen Fan waved impatiently.

"One wants to teach, the other wants to learn. Go on, then."

"What's the big deal? Stop kneeling there and getting in the way. You're disturbing my sleep."

He turned over and settled into a more comfortable position, as though he had just shooed away a buzzing fly.

The entire courtyard fell deathly silent once more.

Xuanyangzi stared at Chen Fan's back, all the lofty arguments he had prepared stuck in his throat.

He had thought this dissolute young master would seize the chance to make demands and put every obstacle in his way.

Yet the young man had given away a future Grandmaster just like that, without a second thought.

He had given him away so casually, as though it were only natural.

It was as if Zhang Shan were not a living, breathing person, but a toy he had grown tired of.

Zhang Shan froze too. He raised his head and looked at the back of the man too lazy even to turn around, and his eyes reddened at once.

Young Master... he's doing this for my sake!

Young Master is afraid of holding back my future!

At that moment, Chen Fan's image in his heart rose without limit.

"Thank you for giving me this chance, Young Master!"

Zhang Shan knocked his head loudly against the ground three times before Chen Fan's back, leaving bloody marks on his forehead.

Only then did he stand, walk over to Xuanyangzi, and formally perform the full ceremony to become his disciple.

Xuanyangzi looked at his new disciple, then glanced back at the young man, who was already snoring softly. His heart was filled with conflicting feelings.

He suddenly felt that he could not understand Qinghe County's foremost dissolute young master.

Zhang Shan left.

He followed Xuanyangzi and moved to the quiet room on the back mountain where the temple master cultivated in seclusion.

The Listening to Bamboo Pavilion returned to its former peace and quiet-indeed, it was even quieter than before.

Chen Fan was delighted to have the place to himself.

With Zhang Shan no longer grunting and shouting through his fist practice in the courtyard, even his afternoon naps were more restful.

One afternoon, just after Chen Fan woke up, an unfamiliar young Daoist came rushing in, flustered.

"Young Master Zhao! Young Master Zhao! A letter has arrived from the residence!"

He presented a letter sealed with wax in both hands.

Chen Fan took it and opened it.

It was indeed the handwriting of his father, Zhao De.

The letter was earnest, full of a father's love and concern.

First, it said that the county commandant had led troops to wipe out the bandits on Black Wind Mountain, so he no longer needed to live in fear.

Then it changed tack, saying that his mother had fallen ill from missing him and was bedridden. She spoke of him day and night and hoped he would come home as soon as possible to comfort his loving mother's heart.

Mother is ill?

The image of a graceful, richly dressed woman who doted on him in every way surfaced from Zhao Long's memories.

I might as well go back.

Life on the mountain was peaceful, but he was tired of eating wild game all the time.

It was time to go back and taste the Drunken Immortal Tower's roast chicken, along with Liu Ruyan's and Su Qingyu's warm bodies.

As for this mother he had acquired, he would simply go back and see her.

He casually crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the stone table.

"I know."

He stood and stretched, his bones cracking and popping.

He spoke to the Daoist still waiting in the courtyard.

"Have a horse prepared."

"I'm going down the mountain."