Chapter 22: Chapter 22
SWISH, SWISH, SWISH!
Shen Xiuhan stood atop the plum blossom posts.
He sank his waist and sat into his hips, ten fingers curled into claws, arms alternating between open and closed positions — now rising and falling, now seizing and grappling — his forms shifting with razor precision between each breath.
His footwork shifted in tandem: left foot stepping forward, right foot following half a step behind, his whole body weaving between the posts in fluid succession, like an eagle wheeling through the sky.
His thighs, waist, and abdomen burned with a deep, aching soreness. Beads of sweat seeped from his temples, dropping onto the snow beneath the posts, blooming into small dark stains.
Shen Xiuhan clenched his jaw and endured, keeping his qi contained, refusing to let a single movement lose its form.
By the end of the morning session, Shen Xiuhan drew his stance to a close and stood still, his chest rising and falling gently.
He could now perform the first five frames of the Dark Eagle Stance in one unbroken sequence!
This rate of progress drew a look of surprise even from Xu Chuan, who stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back.
Xu Chuan strolled forward, looking Shen Xiuhan up and down, clicking his tongue in wonder:
“Junior Brother Shen… your progress is truly unexpected. I figured it would take four or five months before you could sense your qi-blood, but at this rate… two or three months might be enough.”
“You flatter me, Senior Brother!”
Shen Xiuhan wiped the sweat from his face and smiled. “I started training late, so I’ve no choice but to be the slow bird that takes flight early. I just hope hard work can make up for what I lack.”
“Good, good…”
Xu Chuan clapped him on the shoulder, eyes full of approval:
“Keep it up. On the path of martial arts, nothing matters more than perseverance. If you can endure hardship and put in the work, there’s nothing you can’t achieve.”
Xu Chuan’s public praise drew several pointed looks from nearby.
Among the thirty-odd outer-court disciples of Mei Martial Hall, the social circles were drawn with stark clarity.
The inner-city youths mostly wore fine silk robes and quick-soled boots, clustering in groups of three and five, carrying themselves with casual self-importance.
The outer-city ones, like Xiao Wen, wore patched old jackets and could only huddle in corners, grinding away in silence, not daring to so much as raise their voices.
Seeing a tenant farmer from the outer city stealing the spotlight like this, several inner-city youths scowled, muttering their mockery under their breath:
“Who’s he trying to fool, acting like some training-obsessed lunatic? He’s making the rest of us look like slackers.”
“Outer-city types — they only know tuition is expensive, so they train like their lives depend on it. They don’t understand that martial arts require balance between work and rest. Pushing himself like that, he’ll wreck his body within days!”
“Give it a rest. Since when is training hard a crime?”
Shen Xiuhan didn’t hear any of this. Even if he had, he would have ignored it entirely.
He collected his two large white steamed buns and found a wall to squat against.
He’d barely taken two bites when a faded old cloth pouch was held out before him.
He looked up. It was Xiao Wen.
“Senior Brother Shen, my older brother asked me to bring this for you.” Xiao Wen smiled with his usual shy timidity. “He heard you shared your flatcakes with me, so he wanted me to bring you some of our family’s pickled mustard greens…”
Shen Xiuhan took it and hefted the weight. Inside the pouch sat four or five cut chunks of dark pickled mustard root.
“Thanks.”
Without ceremony, he reached behind and pulled out a meat-stuffed flatcake, pressing it into Xiao Wen’s arms:
“Try it.”
“Senior Brother, I can’t — I wasn’t trying to—” Xiao Wen’s young face flushed red as he frantically tried to refuse.
“Take it. Eat!”
Seeing Shen Xiuhan’s insistence, Xiao Wen didn’t dare refuse again and took a small bite.
The next moment, the boy’s eyes went wide as saucers. “It’s got meat in it!”
“Mm.”
“…Thank you, Senior Brother!”
Xiao Wen’s eyes reddened slightly. He abandoned all pretense of restraint and wolfed it down in great ravenous bites.
The boy’s greedy devouring reminded Shen Xiuhan of Shen Momo, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward, almost imperceptibly.
After finishing the midday meal, he walked to the water vat in the corner of the yard, scooped up a ladle of water and tilted his head back to drink, about to catch his breath before continuing training.
Just then, an outer-court disciple came bursting through the front gate, face flushed with excitement, and charged straight into the crowd.
Within minutes, the courtyard erupted. Gasps and chatter rose in wave after wave.
“Have you heard? The Bai family and Tongbei Martial Hall went at it!”
“What? Seriously?”
“Dead serious. The Bai family raided Tongbei Martial Hall’s gambling dens. Just now, Zhao Honggang and Feng Xiaobao led a pack of outer-court disciples straight to the county yamen to demand an explanation!”
“Hss… did they come to blows?”
“Real steel, real blood. Zhao Honggang and Feng Xiaobao double-teamed Bai Xiu’an, and the commotion got so big it brought out the Bai family’s eldest young master — Bai Jing himself.”
“Bai Jing! The top-ranked of the Four Prodigies of Changyun?!”
“That’s right. Bai Jing lives up to his reputation — one foot already in Hidden Strength. He stepped in bare-handed and single-handedly beat down both Zhao and Feng!”
“Serves them right! What a beating!”
Mei Martial Hall and Tongbei Martial Hall had long been at odds over competing for disciples.
Just days ago, Zhao Honggang had bullied the weaker — defeating Eldest Senior Sister Jiang Qinghong — and poached a number of their disciples.
Now, watching their bitter rival get a taste of humiliation, the disciples felt a fierce rush of vindication.
But amid the gloating, someone muttered:
“Has Tongbei Martial Hall lost their minds? Daring to provoke the Bai family?”
“I was wondering the same thing at first, until… Wang Xuanyang from Zhendong Martial Hall stepped in and stopped Bai Jing…”
“Wang Xuanyang? The one they say broke through to Hidden Strength in his twenties — the son of the Zhendong General?”
“The very same…”
“No wonder Tongbei Martial Hall dared to go head-to-head with the Bai family — Zhendong Martial Hall is backing them!”
“That explains everything.”
“…”
In his corner, Shen Xiuhan listened in silence, a strange glint passing through his eyes.
They’d taken the bait.
And they’d bitten harder — and deeper — than he’d ever expected.
Last night, Shen Xiuhan had only intended to sic the Bai family on Feng Xiaobao — stall for time before they came after him.
He’d never imagined…
That pulling one thread would unravel the whole tapestry, dragging every major power in Changyun County into a full-blown melee.
“Good. The more chaos, the better. The more chaos, the less anyone thinks about me.”
Shen Xiuhan rose, stepped back onto the wooden posts, and resumed practicing the Dark Eagle Stance.
If the sky caved in, the tall ones would hold it up.
He had only one thing to do.
Survive the next ten or so days.
…
For three days running, the wind and snow gradually died down.
Shen Xiuhan spent his days immersed in the martial hall, training relentlessly day and night alongside the phantom figure in his mind. His stance progress was astonishing — improving almost daily.
Training devoured enormous amounts of energy, but fortunately the family was no longer short on silver.
He ate meat every day. A couple of days ago, he’d even made a special trip to East Market to buy an old laying hen, bringing it home for Madam Zheng to raise — once it started producing eggs, the extra nourishment would help replenish his body’s reserves.
In just three days, the waxy sallowness of Shen Xiuhan’s face had visibly given way to a healthy flush, and his frame was growing sturdier by the day.
What set his mind at ease even more was that the two Golden Dragon Gang members tailing him had vanished since the day before last.
Word was that the feud between Tongbei Martial Hall and the Bai family had escalated further, spilling over to the West Market wharf.
Quite a few gangs smelled opportunity, eyeing the Golden Dragon Gang’s territory with open greed, jockeying for position both openly and behind the scenes.
One gang in particular — the Raging Waves — was led by a man called Zheng Dadao, a veteran discharged from the military, commanding over a dozen trained fighters. They’d been giving the Golden Dragon Gang a thorough beating.
The situation was too chaotic. Neither Tongbei Martial Hall nor the Golden Dragon Gang had the luxury of worrying about him anymore.
This brief window of calm allowed Shen Xiuhan to throw himself entirely into training.
In the blink of an eye, five more days flew by, and the outer court’s biweekly assessment had arrived.