"The eldest senior brother is your heir. If you fear danger for him, fine," Wei Yuefu said in a heavy voice.
"Then what about the little junior brother? He's the one who stirred this up."
"Why should I be the one to take the blade for him?"
Being sure of victory, or at least having a good chance of it, did not mean no one would get hurt. If the internal organs were truly damaged, or the sinews of the hands and feet, then ending one's martial path—or even ending up a cripple—was not impossible.
So in essence this was a game of Tian Ji's horse race, and Ding Shoucheng had been sent out as the inferior horse to face the Yuanwei Martial Arts Hall's Iron Thread Hand, a superior horse.
Meng Wei sensed the change in Wei Yuefu, so he said with earnest patience, "Qianjun is no creature of the pond. You ought to help him."
"With his aptitude, ten years at most and he'll be able to stand as a Grandmaster."
"I know you're resentful that I favor him."
"But think about it—with his temperament, once he's made his name in the future, he won't forget a kindness."
"I'm doing this for the good of our martial arts hall, too."
Wei Yuefu stuffed another mouthful of food in, then said calmly, "Either I get everything they get, and you make up for everything I've been shorted before."
"Or I complete my training and leave."
Completing one's training meant a direct personal disciple had finished learning his craft. The master was then obliged to prepare a parting gift to settle him; to withhold it meant a falling-out, though a fig leaf would still remain. The former came with a banquet; the latter, merely a word let slip.
The moment the words left his mouth, Meng Wei's tone turned ugly. "Shoucheng, are you really going to make a scene over such a trifling thing?"
"If it's a trifling thing, then why not just give it?" Wei Yuefu said, only after shoving a large mouthful of food into his mouth.
For the man to say that, his left brain was fighting his right.
"You—" Meng Wei was so provoked that he nearly blurted out the words, Do you even deserve it?
Deep down, he had never believed Ding Shoucheng deserved to have these things.
Meng Zhijie was his son, and Shen Qianjun's aptitude was the finest he had seen in his life. The first represented legacy, the second represented the future; that was why he was so generous. But Ding Shoucheng was, at bottom, someone he had picked out to be the ox in the field. Giving him a meal was already generous enough. How could he possibly hand him a share of the benefits?
"I only want what I'm owed. Since you're unwilling, then let's part ways," Wei Yuefu said, swallowing his food. "I'll pack up and be gone right away."
"If you want to leave, fine," Meng Wei said with a cold laugh. "But completing your training is out of the question. You can only be expelled from the hall."
"The martial arts on you belong to the hall. You'll have to give them back before you go."
Expulsion meant tearing off every last shred of pretense.
"I say... you've gone senile, haven't you," Wei Yuefu said, a mocking look surfacing on his face. "I paid money to learn. At most you can strike my name from the rolls."
"You've no right to destroy my martial arts."
As a direct personal disciple, according to the trade's rules, the master had to pay a monthly stipend and cover all expenses of food, clothing, lodging and travel, and a direct disciple's treatment was supposed to rise with the years he had served. Ding Shoucheng qualified for this too; by rights he should be getting at least ten taels a month by now.
But Meng Wei did not give it, the reason being, of course, that it had gone toward living expenses and tuition—fees that only paying outer disciples were supposed to hand over. Meng Wei did this to keep a firmer grip on Ding Shoucheng; after all, one copper coin can bring a hero low. Honestly, it was only because Ding Shoucheng was honest and dull that the many people angling to poach him had gotten nowhere.
Nor was Wei Yuefu afraid to come to blows with Meng Wei. Don't glamorize the martial artists of a low martial world. Even a so-called Grandmaster might not have time to react if some thug clubbed him on the back of the head from behind—he might even be beaten dead with that one blow. Otherwise, why insist on sending Ding Shoucheng out to take the blade in a match? That was exactly the reason. So in truth the gap between Meng Wei and Wei Yuefu was not large; even if the man killed Wei Yuefu or destroyed his martial arts, the price Meng Wei paid would be no smaller than Wei Yuefu's.
"So let's part on good terms," Wei Yuefu said at once. "So that neither of us ends up looking bad—and the Yuanwei Martial Arts Hall won't let this go so easily either."
"Hmph." Still unwilling in his heart, Meng Wei gave a cold snort and swept out, flicking his sleeve.
Seeing this, Wei Yuefu finished his food in a few bites and went back to the room where Ding Shoucheng had lived, sending little brother up into the sky to keep watch.
"Tsk. Truly shabby," Wei Yuefu could not help saying.
Apart from a table and a few chairs and stools, Ding Shoucheng's room held only a wardrobe and a hard plank bed. Over the years Ding Shoucheng had saved two sets of clothes and twenty taels of silver—absurdly little for a direct personal disciple of a martial arts hall. Anyone with the least knack for lining his pockets would have more than this.
But Wei Yuefu planned to take it along anyway. In a feudal dynasty with such low productivity—and especially since one of the two sets of clothes was a padded cotton jacket—it would still serve as startup capital if his later plans failed.
He had just finished packing when little brother swooped down, anxiously gesturing at Wei Yuefu and chirping ying-ying-ying at him.
"I know. Little brother, get up in the sky and guide me," Wei Yuefu said; he understood perfectly well that little brother meant Meng Wei was coming with men.
He had long guessed the man would not let it go. Leaving in a huff like that, he was certainly off to fetch people. After all, one man truly could not destroy Wei Yuefu's martial arts, but a whole crowd... that was truly two fists against four hands.
Yet since Wei Yuefu knew it, he had surely prepared for it—otherwise why have little brother keep watch? He and little brother understood each other without words; so long as little brother watched from the sky, their every move was in his grasp. It was much like playing with a map hack, except he could not see through walls.
Numbers did not matter; he would simply go around them.
Little brother shot up into the sky at once, and Wei Yuefu climbed out of Ding Shoucheng's room through the window. Then, following the movements of Meng Wei and his men, he took a long way around and slipped out of the martial arts hall as lightly as could be. Never mind a fight—they never even laid eyes on each other. As for the gates being watched... it wasn't as though he couldn't climb a wall.
If a man had an information advantage laid out before him and still couldn't use it, Wei Yuefu might as well have slit his own throat cleanly and been done with it.
Wei Yuefu glanced at the sky and muttered, "Before it gets dark, word of the expulsion won't spread so easily."
"The information gap is still there—just enough for me to work with."
Since he dared to do it, he had naturally already worked out what to do next. As for the talk that would follow? Wei Yuefu had his own way of handling that too.
The time he had spent in the woodshed and the kitchen had not been wasted in the slightest; it had all gone into thinking through his plans. Especially while talking with Meng Wei, he had kept revising his plans and contingencies according to the man's attitude.
Most of the time, plans cannot keep up with changes. In Wei Yuefu's original plan, for instance, he had never expected Meng Wei to tear off all pretense. After all, the man had raised him since childhood; he had assumed some consideration would remain. But he had never imagined the other had no intention of leaving him a way to live at all. Strike him from the rolls, destroy his martial arts—and next would come not driving him from the hall, but killing him.
Chapter 4