Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Blind Old Third is dead!"
The clanging of a bronze gong, joined by loud shouts, shattered the quiet of Fort Li.
Not everyone had suffered from the wolf menace, but everyone loved a spectacle. In a village especially, even a neighborhood quarrel or brawl was enough to draw a crowd of onlookers.
By now, quite a few folk were already carrying hoes on their way to the fields. Hearing that Blind Old Third was dead, they came running in droves.
"Tsk, tsk, so this is Blind Old Third?"
"That's the beast, all right—I've seen it before!"
"And here I thought it was something special. Doesn't have three heads and six arms, does it? Look how scared you all were..."
"Fugui, what kind of horseshit are you spouting? If you're so capable, why didn't you catch Blind Old Third instead of waiting till it's dead to talk smack?"
"Wasn't I short on time..."
"My pig! Scared out of its wits and dead! Boo-hoo..."
Heidan's mother came running up. At the sight of Blind Old Third's carcass, the grief she had suppressed came surging back, and she collapsed to the ground, wailing bitterly.
Heidan's father, Li Baoquan, arrived as well. Once he learned what had happened, his face turned beet-red. Swinging his arm, he delivered a sharp slap across Heidan's face with a loud crack and cursed furiously, "You little bastard! Who gave you permission to act on your own..."
He seemed thoroughly enraged. Looking around at the surrounding villagers, he ground his teeth and said, "Brother Hu helped me so much when he was alive. If anything had happened to Yan'er, how... how could I ever face him?"
"Let it go, let it go. It's already in the past," the bystanders quickly urged.
Yet Li Baoquan was still fuming, raising a hand to beat Heidan again.
Li Yan raised an arm to block him, casting a cool glance. "I already took the payment. One chicken."
"A chicken?"
Li Baoquan froze, lowering his hand. Then, rubbing his hands together in embarrassment, he muttered, "Well... look at the mess I made of this."
One could hardly blame Heidan's father for putting on such a show.
Though bladesmen lived by the creed that their word was worth a thousand pieces of gold and a promise made was a promise kept, who among those who strapped their heads to their waistbands was an easy mark?
There were those who championed justice, but far more took coin to kill.
And their prices were never cheap.
Of course, Li Yan's father, Li Hu, had been a generous man. Whenever fellow villagers came to his door asking for help, he would usually pat his chest and agree, and so people had often cornered him with flattering words to take advantage of him.
But Li Yan's reputation was nowhere near as accommodating.
The reason was simple: a clash of mindsets.
He had originally been a modern man, and having died once already, he could not care less about clan rites, feudal hierarchies, or being constrained by other people's opinions. In all things, he cared only about keeping his conscience clear and his mind at peace.
When it was time to strike, he would never hold back his blade.
And as for the money he was owed, no one was cheating him out of a single damn copper.
Nobody was taking advantage of him.
To him, this was only natural; but in the eyes of others, he was a tough customer to deal with.
Who would have thought that this time, he had actually acted like a true hero?
"I said it all along—it had to be Yan'er to get it done!"
"Just like his father, he'll grow into a real hero!"
The onlookers raised their thumbs one after another, chattering over each other in praise.
Li Yan chuckled but said nothing.
"The clan patriarch is here!" someone shouted.
A few elderly men were walking up the village dirt road. Leading them was a lean old man with a goatee, wearing a pair of reading glasses.
Although Fort Li had its share of folks with outside surnames, the Lis were the only prominent clan. Thus, successive Li clan patriarchs had concurrently served as village head.
The current patriarch was named Li Huairen, the village's sole landlord. His family had passed down the tradition of scholarly farming for generations, and he had passed the county examination to become a xiucai. He set great store by reputation and keeping face, and his standing among the people was reasonably good.
He stepped forward, circled Blind Old Third's carcass a few times, and listened to everyone recount the story. Stroking his beard, he nodded. "Well done. The busy farming season is upon us. With this menace removed, our folk can tend their fields in peace. A good deed indeed.
"Merit must be rewarded. Zhou Juezi, your pig is dead. I'll take it upon myself to buy it and give it to Li Yan's family as a token of the village's appreciation."
Li Yan grinned. "That's wonderful. Much obliged, Patriarch."
Practicing martial arts burned through energy, turning a man into an eating machine. His stomach had been craving grease and meat these past few days, and a whole fat pig would keep him well-fed for quite a while.
Such was the benefit of having a fierce reputation.
The village head knew he was a tough customer, so when it came to forced corvée labor and grueling chores, none were ever dumped on Li Yan's household; nor was Li Yan ever cheated out of any benefits he was due.
Even happier was Zhou Juezi. He had raised this fat pig hoping to fetch a handsome price at the New Year; he could never have brought himself to eat it.
The patriarch's decision came as an unexpected windfall.
To avoid any complications, Zhou Juezi immediately wanted to pull Li Yan away to butcher the pig. For one, butchering it right away would keep the meat fresh; for another, it would seal the deal before anything could change.
"Look at how impatient you are!"
Li Yan teased him, but still called Heidan along to haul the pig.
After they left, Patriarch Li Huairen let out a small breath of relief.
An idle fellow in the crowd looked on with envy, sucking through his teeth with a grin. "Patriarch, young brother Yan did a great service by killing the wolf, so of course he ought to be rewarded. But tossing out Blind Old Third's carcass would just be a waste. Why not skin it and eat the meat? It'll satisfy our cravings and vent our hatred..."
"You shameless beggar!"
Before he could finish, someone cursed with a darkened face, "Blind Old Third has eaten who knows how many people, and you can stomach that? If you ask me, burn it and be done with it."
Hearing this, Heidan's mother burst into tears again, while the others sighed in sympathy.
Patriarch Li Huairen stroked his beard and said thoughtfully, "In the old days, wolves were common in Guanzhong as well. Back then, there were many veteran soldiers still around. Whenever they killed one, they would hang it from the crooked-neck tree at the village entrance as a deterrent, and things would stay quiet for a while.
"Zhuzi, take a few men and hang Blind Old Third up at the village entrance!"
"Yes, Patriarch!"
Several men stepped forward at once to drag the wolf carcass away.
"Don't! Whatever you do, don't!"
Just then, a timid female voice rose from the crowd.
Everyone looked over to see a middle-aged woman standing at the back of the throng. Her face was sallow, her hair disheveled, and she was coated in grime, reeking so foully that people backed away three paces.
It was none other than Widow Wang.
In truth, Widow Wang was a pitiable soul.
Her husband had possessed an outside surname, and having spent his youth stealing chickens, walking dogs, and doing nothing good, he had never been liked in the village. Even Widow Wang had been a bride purchased from human traffickers. Yet even after starting a family, the man never settled down. He often went into Chang'an City to carouse with his fair-weather friends, and whenever he came home drunk, he beat his wife.
Later, in a drunken brawl, he died around this time last year along the official highway outside Chang'an City, leaving behind only Widow Wang and a four-year-old girl.
Under normal circumstances, if Widow Wang were to remarry, the villagers would not have objected; they would even have welcomed it.
After all, life was hard for a widowed mother and child, and there were still several bachelors in the village with no prospects.
However, after her husband died, Widow Wang fell gravely ill. When she woke, she was in a perpetual daze. She never cleaned her home, letting it turn into a pigsty, while she herself reeked to high heaven.
Her poor daughter suffered alongside her, locked inside the house all day.
Better an ugly wife than a lazy wretch.
With that, the village bachelors lost all interest, and some even mocked her behind her back.
In the entire village, no one was willing to associate with Widow Wang.
Feeling everyone's gaze, Widow Wang shrank back, yet still said in a low voice, "Blind Old Third's body is unclean... It carries an ill omen. It must be burned, and someone must be hired to hold an exorcism ritual..."
"Silence!"
Before she could finish, Patriarch Li Huairen's expression shifted, and he berated her sternly, "Stop spreading demonic delusions to bewilder people! Burning incense in your own home all day is bad enough, but if you dare place your faith in some White Lotus Venerable Mother and drag this village down with you, don't blame this old man for showing no mercy!"
At these words, everyone's face darkened.
There was no shortage of shamans and spirit mediums among the folk, and incense burned brightly at city god temples and Daoist shrines across the land. On major festivals, the imperial court would even hold grand, lavish ceremonies, with Daoist masters of the Taixuan Orthodox Sect personally presiding over the sacrificial rites.
However, toward illicit cults and secret sects, the court showed no mercy whatsoever.
The most infamous was the Maitreya Sect, which possessed numerous branches.
The year before last, villagers in one community had secretly propagated their teachings. Once the court found out, soldiers were dispatched directly to slaughter them, burning the entire village to the ground.
Not one of the thousand-plus inhabitants survived, and to this day it remained a ghost village.
Widow Wang was usually filthy, talked of uncanny things, and burned incense at home every single day, looking every bit like those ignorant cultists. Even though no proof had been found, Li Huairen remained deeply wary of her.
For a moment, the gazes directed at her turned grim and cold.
Seeing this, Widow Wang dared not utter another word.
Patriarch Li Huairen snorted, ordered the men to drag Blind Old Third's carcass away, and hurriedly left with his entourage.
As clan patriarch and village head, his days were hardly leisurely. Once Lesser Fullness passed, Grain in Ear was right around the corner, and the summer harvest was imminent. Aside from a mountain of village and household affairs, he also had to deal with the grain inspection officials coming from Chang'an City.
The matter of Blind Old Third was merely a minor interlude to him.
With no more spectacle to watch, the crowd dispersed as well, heading off to work in the fields.
Only Widow Wang remained standing where she was, staring blankly after the wolf carcass being dragged away. A flicker of terror flashed in her eyes, and she broke into a brisk run toward home.
Back in her small courtyard, she slammed the wooden door shut with a loud clatter.
Inside the dark, murky room, her expression transformed completely, stripped of every trace of her earlier meekness. She lit three sticks of incense, held them against her forehead, and knelt on the floor, kowtowing repeatedly toward the central hall as she muttered:
"Third Aunt... disaster has come..."
...
Zhou Juezi worked deftly. In less than an hour, the big fat pig was cleanly butchered.
Li Yan forced several jin of pork on Heidan, then had him run errands to deliver portions to familiar neighbors in the village.
Only after finishing all this did Li Yan shoulder more than half a pig carcass and head home.
His home was on the eastern edge of Fort Li.
It was a typical Guanzhong farmhouse courtyard: spacious, with tamped-earth ground where no vegetables were planted, but instead arrayed with stone locks, stone balls, and other training gear.
Fort Li had originally been a military garrison, and a few families still preserved the old traditions of tilling the land and practicing martial arts. Li Yan's family was one of them.
The difference was that above the front gate of his home hung a wooden plaque bearing four bold, vigorous characters: "A Hundred Battles, Mighty and Martial."
Squatting by the threshold was an old man.
His hair was stark white and his back hunched, his face lined with orange-peel wrinkles. His clouded, lifeless eyes stared ahead as he held a long pipe, puffing clouds of smoke.
His right trouser leg hung completely empty.
This was none other than Li Yan's grandfather in this life, Li Gui.
At the sight of him, Li Yan grinned. "Grandpa, the patriarch rewarded us with a pig. For lunch, would you prefer minced pork noodles or oil-sprinkled noodles?"
Yet Li Gui did not even spare him a glance, drawing sullenly on his pipe puff after puff.
Li Yan chuckled and said no more, carrying the pork straight into the courtyard and setting it in the kitchen.
The two of them would not be able to finish half a pig anytime soon. Between curing what needed curing and rendering the lard, processing it would take a good while.
Li Yan was in no rush. After putting down the pork, he stepped out into the yard.
By now the sun had climbed higher. Stripping down to a sleeveless vest, he revealed a frame of sleek, knotted muscles. After doing some warm-up exercises and evening out his breath, he snapped his fists to his waist, standing as straight and taut as a javelin.
Then, he pushed one palm upward as if hoisting a bronze cauldron, before pressing it slowly back down.
From the Ten Great Coilings of Red Fist: Overlord Lifts the Cauldron.
Guanzhong Red Fist carried an ancient heritage with numerous branches; every village, town, and martial arts hall possessed its own lineages and trump cards.
What Li Yan practiced was his family's old Red Fist, passed down from a Li ancestor in the previous dynasty who had learned it in the army from a general, rich with subtle keys and marvelous techniques.
That general was a figure often mentioned in teahouse storytelling and popular tales, renowned as a match for ten thousand men; what he had passed down was naturally extraordinary.
His grandfather, Li Gui, had been a hardened soldier who fought through life-and-death battles, steeped in experience.
His father, Li Hu, had been a Guanzhong bladesman who made his living across the rivers and lakes, roaming north and south, incorporating many underhanded martial arts tricks that lent the style an even fiercer edge.
Regardless, the Ten Great Coilings of Red Fist remained the bedrock.
Red Fist held that "bracing and patching are the mother, hooking and hanging are the skill, transforming the body is the wonder, and tricky striking is the method." Its combat variations were endless, but without a solid foundation, it was all for naught.
The Ten Great Coilings were divided into soft and hard disciplines. Li Yan had never missed a single day of practice, come wind or rain, searing summer or freezing winter.
Yet his method of practice differed from that of ordinary people.
Every martial practitioner knew that "a pugilist's body is worth pure gold," requiring steady, gradual progress; rushing ahead would only leave one riddled with ailments.
Li Yan, however, seemed to have surpassed this limitation.
As he pressed one palm upward, his frame stretched to its absolute limit, looking as if he were truly lifting a massive bronze cauldron, pulled taut like a bowstring. Creaking groans even resonated from within his body.
At the same time, Li Yan calmed his mind and focused his spirit.
Within his dantian, a stone statue was slowly floating...
Chapter 3