Chapter 143
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The sky was a deep azure, and in the east, a sliver of golden light gradually emerged, piercing through the gaps between clouds. The golden morning rays swept swiftly across mountain ridges and forested wilds, wrapping the small village in their embrace.
The patter of rain had ceased. Collected droplets fell from the eaves with soft plops, landing on the ground below.
A warm light squeezed through the slightly opened window lattice, spilling across a bed.
Hoo… hoo…
A young boy lay drooling at the corners of his mouth, snorting now and then. He kicked aside the blanket and turned over, still muttering dream-talk in his sleep.
“Hehe… I, the great hero, uphold justice and protect the weak… Quickly, release that maiden!” “Hey! Watch as I decide the fate of heaven and earth with one sword…”
“Don’t run! I won’t kill you—”
“Won’t kill who?!”
At that moment, the door burst open with a bang. A woman stormed in holding a rolling pin, startling the boy awake. He sat up with a jolt, only to be struck squarely on the forehead. Clutching his head, he tumbled off the bed in a flurry of limbs.
Glancing at the sky outside, the boy lowered his head and muttered softly:
“Auntie… maybe next time don’t use the rolling pin?”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
The boy nodded. “It hurts!”
“If you know it hurts, then get up already. Go wash your face and open the door to do business.” The woman raised the rolling pin again as if to strike, but in the end only gave him a light poke in the back.
“Or else we’ll be left drinking northwest wind!”
Knowing full well that his aunt was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, the boy quickly slipped on his shoes. Standing at the door, he tipped his chin proudly.
“Auntie, don’t worry. One day I’ll take a master as my teacher—”
As he spoke, he made a few exaggerated hand gestures. “I’ll learn martial arts, walk the path of chivalry, and take care of you in your old age!”
From inside, the rolling pin came flying out and thumped onto the ground beside his feet. The boy jumped away, scampering down the stairs. As he ran to open the front door, he called back over his shoulder to the woman leaning by the railing:
“I, Li Sui’an, always keep my word!”
Creaaak—
The inn’s main doors opened wide. Bathed in the morning sun, the boy stretched lazily and took a deep breath. But just as he stepped over the threshold, his foot struck something with a loud thunk. He stumbled forward a few steps and nearly fell down the stone steps.
“Whose bookshelf is this?! Leaving it here like that—what if someone breaks their neck?!”
Li Sui’an hopped in place, clutching his foot, face contorted with pain. But soon, his expression froze. Beneath the eaves on the other side of the courtyard, a young scholar in a green robe lay asleep with his head resting on a pile of firewood. Beside him lay a donkey, seemingly old, its mottled coat patchy with tufts of mixed hair.
“Hey, hey! You, scholar—why are you sleeping here? Get up! My inn’s open now. If you’re staying here, then… then…”
The boy’s gaze was drawn to a nearby bookshelf, but instead of books, it held seven long swords, casually laid down in a slanting heap. His eyes were transfixed. He stepped closer and reached out to touch them—when a voice spoke from the side.
“Your inn’s finally opened, has it?”
Turning his head, Li Sui’an saw the green-robed scholar had sat up at some point. He was smiling as he looked at the boy. Startled, Li Sui’an quickly pulled back his hand, stood up straight, and took a step aside, still sneaking glances at those weapons from time to time.
“O-Open, yes! Sir, are you planning to stay at the inn?”
Brushing dust from his robe, the man rose to his feet with a smile.
“Not sure yet. But I’ll definitely need a meal. Little brother, help me lead that old donkey to your backyard and feed it some dry fodder.”
“Oh! Alright, sir. Please, this way!”
Before the boy could move, the old donkey got up on its own, lazily swishing its bald tail as it ambled toward the side gate leading to the backyard. Li Sui’an found this rather curious.
This old donkey understands human speech? It’s that intelligent?
He turned his head and looked again at the back of the scholar stepping into the inn. Stroking his sharp little chin in a mature manner, he muttered to himself:
“This gentleman even carries swords—he must be a great hero of the martial world! If I take him as my master, wouldn’t I be able to learn martial arts and roam the jianghu?!”
After stuffing some bundles of dry grass into the feeding trough, the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. With a straw stalk in his mouth, he patted the donkey’s head.
“Be good, eat on your own!”
He crept stealthily along the wall toward the passage that led to the kitchen. Peeking around the corner and seeing no sign of his aunt, he inched closer, ears pricked to listen in.
His aunt’s voice came drifting out:
“Honored guest, our little inn is rather modest and doesn’t offer many dishes. But the pork is all from our own pigs, and the fish is caught fresh from the nearby rivers. I can guarantee the ingredients are fresh.”
The furnishings inside were sparse—only a few worn tables and chairs. The woman, wringing a corner of her apron, smiled apologetically at the scholar in front of her. But before she could finish her words, the man across from her, Lu Liangsheng, cupped his hands politely.
“I’m just a humble scholar from the countryside. A bit of plain tea and simple fare will do just fine. No need to fuss—just have the inner manager prepare a few of her best home dishes.”
“Well then, that’s good. Please, take a seat.”
The woman beamed with delight. Having a customer the moment the doors opened made for a cheerful morning. She quickly walked into the kitchen, only to spot Li Sui’an peeking around. She gave him a quick tap on the head with her hand.
“Go heat some warm water and take it to that guest.”
The sun rose above the clouds, and morning light filtered into every corner of the inn. Smoke curled gently from the kitchen stove. The chopping board rang with the rhythmic thump-thump of a knife slicing vegetables. The woman occasionally set down the blade, turned to feed firewood into the stove, wiped the sweat from her cheek, then picked up the spatula to stir-fry in the wok, releasing waves of rich aroma.
Squatting by a small stove, Li Sui’an fanned the flames vigorously with a palm-leaf fan. When steam finally spouted from the mouth of the kettle, he excitedly took hold of it, filled a bowl to the brim, and carried it between both hands—carefully, as though performing a formal ceremony—and brought it to the main hall.
He placed it before the scholar with the reverence of someone offering tea to a future master.
“Sir, please drink some water.”
Li Sui’an spoke softly. First, because he hoped to become a disciple, but had never done such a thing before and wasn’t sure if this scholar truly knew martial arts; and second, because he was afraid his aunt in the kitchen might overhear.
Seeing the scholar smile politely and lift the bowl to his lips, the boy glanced at his hands to check for calluses. Unable to hold back, he asked in a small voice:
“Sir, do you know martial arts?”
“Haha… just a little.”
Lu Liangsheng indeed only knew the Qianyang Palm that had been passed to him by Sun Yingxian. As for the rest, they leaned more toward the realm of techniques and incantations than martial skill. Seeing the boy’s face light up with excitement, it reminded him of when he himself had longed for a single writing brush in his youth.
“You… really do? You really know martial arts?”
Hearing this reply, Li Sui’an rubbed his hands together, momentarily forgetting how to say what he wanted.
The scholar suddenly spoke, smiling as he said:
“You’ve got business—go welcome the guest.”
“Huh?”
The boy blinked, then looked outside. On the village path, a few villagers were indeed stepping out of their homes, carrying farming tools. But there were no signs of any guests. He thought the scholar was just trying to get rid of him.
The very next moment, hoofbeats echoed from afar.
In the morning light, a fast horse galloped down the village’s muddy road, startling farmers into hurriedly dodging aside, their curses ringing out in its wake. The rider ignored them entirely, reining in at the inn’s entrance before dismounting and striding inside.
“Sir, are you looking to stay the night or have a meal?”
Li Sui’an rushed forward to greet the man. He appeared to be in his thirties, hair neatly bound in a topknot, a neat mustache on his upper lip and a short goatee at his chin. He wore a black robe and bore a long sword on his back—his attire clearly that of someone from the martial world. From the moment he stepped in, his gaze had been locked on the scholar sitting inside.
“Sir?”
Li Sui’an called out again. The man spared him a glance, then walked straight over to a nearby table.
“Just bring something simple. If you have wine, even better. I’d like to share a drink with that gentleman over there.”
Over at his table, as the warm water passed over his lips, Lu Liangsheng opened his eyes and stared at the ripples forming in the bowl.
Sigh… someone from the Fire Worship Sect.
