At that moment within the Marshal's residence in the fortified city of Qingshan, Marshal Hong sat alone in the grand parlor on an enormous wooden chair. Reclining against the backrest, he gazed upward at the ornate ceiling. His dark, circular eyes flickered restlessly as one hand idly stroked his chin in deep thought.
"Over there," a voice announced from one corner of the hall—where one of the four massive columns stood, embraced by a stout, robust man clad entirely in a dark robe that seemed as solid as the pillar itself. "The guards report that Li Yan was called into the study by Ji Wenhe this morning. Presumably, he has now formally taken the oath as a disciple. I would expect that his training will begin next."
Without turning his gaze, Marshal Hong continued, "Last night, not allowing the boy to formally become a disciple immediately already surprised me. For someone whose health seems to be steadily declining, he manages to remain so unhurried and deliberate."
The dark-robed man shifted his weight and remarked, "Perhaps the senior disciple has discerned whether Li Yan is genuinely unable to suppress the poison within him—or if he's merely pretending?"
"Odds are it's the truth," Hong replied, his tone low and measured. "Based on the routine reports from our guards and considering that he's been sought after relentlessly over the past few years, it doesn't seem fabricated. Even so, if we were to confront him together, our combined martial prowess barely compares to his—even in his current state, he remains out of our league."
The stout man frowned and retorted, "Come now, elder brother, don't overstate it. Yes, his skills have reached a transcendent level, but on the one hand, his body must divert considerable internal energy to quell that poison; and on the other, both of us have lingered at the peak of our generation for over a decade. We are just a step away from that level, and together our strength might still be enough to subdue him."
Marshal Hong's eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling as he replied, "My dear disciple, resorting to force is our last option. What troubles me now is how to exploit this lad's situation. In his previous case, once that disciple entered the military counselor's residence, he was never seen again—only to vanish, and within barely a month, his life ended in misfortune. I wonder, is Li Yan simply unable to cultivate properly? Or is it, as he claims, that his technique can be practiced only by those with a unique constitution? If it's the latter, then all our tiring efforts might well end up being for nothing."
The dark-robed man shook his head, his brows drawn in concern. "But in the martial world, there isn't any technique that one simply cannot cultivate—even if it is a poisonous or evil art. It's not a matter of possibility so much as of suitability. I haven't heard of any internal method that imposes strict physical requirements. Take our sect's teachings, for instance—be they elementary or profound—any disciple can practice them. It's merely a question of how rapidly one progresses."
Marshal Hong's tone grew more reflective. "Exactly. That very point is why I refuse to abandon my hopes, even if it means considering the cultivation of the obscure arts. If Li Yan's excuse is merely a pretext to keep these methods from circulating, then he must possess something unique—especially when compared to that previous disciple. I tested the meridians of that lad on the training fields yesterday with my internal energy. They were astonishingly ordinary—no better than many young soldiers in the army—yet out of tens of thousands, he was chosen over several years. I simply cannot fathom it."
A deep silence fell over the hall before Marshal Hong finally turned to the dark-robed man and said, "Disciple, regardless of the criteria he uses for accepting disciples—or what he intends to teach—our aim is simple. We must get close to Li Yan and acquire whatever secrets he learns. With both our discerning eyes, we'll be able to spot a clue within his teachings and then plan our next move accordingly."
After a prolonged, hushed pause, the measured footsteps of the subordinate faded off into the distance, leaving Marshal Hong seated silently in his broad chair amid a still, almost deafening quiet.
Later that evening in Daqingshan, as dusk settled over the countryside, Changbo of the Li Family Village and his son Li Wei were returning from the fields just as they did every day. Although the locust plague had doomed much of that year's harvest, the villagers still managed to salvage some crops. To them, every grain was precious—a treasure nurtured with the same care a mother lavishes upon her child—and far beyond what the wealthy landowners could ever appreciate. Each household continued to labor in their modest plots to eke out what little produce remained.
Changbo, as always, arrived home relatively early—while the sky was still bright. Upon his return, his wife and four daughters had already prepared a simple dinner. They made every effort to finish eating before dark, to avoid the expense of lighting oil lamps for long periods. In these hard times every drop of lamp oil was conserved.
Since Li Yan had left yesterday, an oppressive silence had hung over their home. "Babe, do you think the village head will be back today?" Li Yan's mother asked her partner, her face etched with melancholy as she picked at her bowl of sweet potatoes—though she hadn't touched her utensils.
Her husband, Li Yan's father, sighed impatiently and banged his chopsticks lightly against his bowl, saying, "For heaven's sake, must you keep harping on? I've told you countless times—this sort of wait will be at least a couple of days, if all goes well. Just eat peacefully."
"You went to the fields today and only got back late—it's no wonder you're still asking," she murmured under her breath.
Li Wei exchanged a glance with his sister Li Xiaozhu. At first, they wanted to ask a few questions, but soon they fell silent, understanding that even their father wouldn't have any answers—and perhaps the endless chatter was just a way to feel a little less anxious.
Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps and a loud, familiar voice echoed from outside: "Changbo, I'm back! I'm back—haha!" The burst of energy from Li Guoxin's greeting jolted everyone awake. In an instant, furniture clattered, dishes rattled, and several family members rushed out of the house in excitement.
Inside, amid the overturned stools, scattered chopsticks, and half-eaten sweet potatoes still in bowls, Li Yan's mother scolded as she beheld the three nearly frantic figures. "You idiot! Weren't you supposed to be in no hurry? You're as if you've just gotten reborn!" With that, she hurriedly rose and dashed out the door.
Outside, Li Guoxin strode toward the Li family residence, flanked by a boisterous group of village children and several other villagers. Before he even reached the doorway, three figures burst out of the house—a moment's glance revealed that it was none other than Changbo with his two little ones, trailed closely by Li Yan's mother. Changbo quickly straightened up in deference as Li Wei and Li Xiaozhu joined him. Drawing a deep breath, Changbo smiled and said, "Guoxin, you're finally back! Come in, have some water, and tell us what's happened."
Li Guoxin looked at Changbo's carefully composed expression, though his own eyes were lined with anxiety. Unable to restrain a hearty laugh, he replied, "Haha, Changbo, I'll skip coming indoors for now. The carriage that just arrived is still tied up outside, and I haven't even visited Li Yu's or Li Shan's houses yet. I had to stop by here first to deliver some very good news before I go on to inform them."
Changbo nodded vigorously, "Very well, very well!" He and Li Wei, along with the others, gazed expectantly at him.
Meanwhile, Li Guoxin gently ruffled the heads of a few playful village children circling around him. "Alright, now scoot back home so the adults can come with you later to collect your belongings." The children chirped happily and dispersed—some scampered back to their houses while others joined a small group of villagers who had gathered near the village gate. These villagers, intrigued, huddled together, discussing the news that the village head had just brought back from the city.
After the children had drifted away, Li Guoxin turned his attention to the Li family, forcing a bright smile as he said matter-of-factly, "Changbo, I haven't even visited the other two households yet. I came here first because I have tremendous news to share with you."
"Oh, Uncle Guoxin, what's the good news?" piped up Li Wei from beside him, as the others leaned in with anticipation. Even the nearby villagers quieted their chatter and formed a small circle to listen.
Seeing the expectant faces, Li Guoxin cast aside any pretense and began, "Changbo, your ancestral grave's feng shui is nothing short of extraordinary. Li Yan this time has been conscripted into the city's elite Imperial Guard. But who would have thought…" He then proceeded to recount every detail of his trip to the city, even interweaving accounts of Master Ji's deeds and background so that none here would underestimate the stature of the man Li Yan had chosen as his master.
As he spoke, more villagers gathered around. At first, they were left dumbfounded—but then the room erupted into animated chatter as his report sank in. The Li family, standing spellbound, could hardly believe that Li Yan had been accepted as a disciple by a master whose renown eclipsed even Marshal Hong himself. Could Master Ji really be that formidable? Yet, faced with Li Guoxin's unwavering confidence, the villagers chose to believe him. In these mountain villages, where people have little exposure to the outside world, the village head is revered as the highest authority—even a minor official visiting the town is regarded with awe. Simple and unassuming, they trusted his every word.
Muttering under her breath, Li Yan's mother joined in, "Oh my, oh my… my goodness…" as if lost in a dream, while Changbo stood rooted, tears welling up in his eyes.
Back at the Counselor's residence, Li Yan's chamber had been closed since after noon's meal with a small black wooden plaque hanging on its door handle. After lunch, instead of choosing one of the other vacant rooms for his training, Li Yan preferred his own room. He hung up the plaque, closed the door, and pulled up a chair at his desk. Picking up the small carved wooden figure, he carefully reviewed in his mind the practice route of the "Qi Guidance Technique." He meticulously traced the paths of the meridians on the little figurine while mentally reciting the incantations of his internal method. He was determined not to repeat the fate of his senior disciple.
After about the duration it takes for one incense stick to burn, Li Yan put down the wooden figure, sat cross-legged on his wooden bed, and began practicing the technique in earnest following the recited formula. Yet, he had made up his mind that if anything felt off, he would halt immediately.
What Li Yan did not realize was that the training he began this very day would forever alter the course of his life—marking the first step along an endless journey of self-discovery and cultivation.