Chapter 23: Chapter 23

On the training grounds.

Thirty-odd outer-court disciples lined up in formation, then took turns demonstrating the Dark Eagle Stance before Mei Shuangfeng.

“Your center of gravity is floating — again!”

“Your base is unstable — your stance is like tattered cotton in the wind. More practice!”

“Your eagle claws have no bone to them — limp and powerless. Go — hold the stone locks overhead for two hours!”

“…”

Mei Shuangfeng paced through the remnants of snow, hands clasped behind her back, inspecting each disciple in turn.

Her face was still as deep water, her rebukes cutting and merciless, scolding disciple after disciple until they were red-faced and cowed into silence.

Until she reached Shen Xiuhan.

She watched his full sequence — rises and falls measured and controlled, his base steady as the Dali Mountains, his fingers already hinting at the budding form of an eagle striking a hare.

Mei Shuangfeng’s expression finally softened, just a fraction. She gave a nod so slight it was almost imperceptible.

She offered no verbal praise, merely pausing a moment before moving on to the next disciple — but this treatment had already been noted by the observant eyes in the yard.

The instant the assessment ended, the crowd dispersed as if granted a reprieve from execution, scattering to rub their aching legs and catch their breath.

Just then, a faint drift of cosmetic fragrance floated to Shen Xiuhan’s side.

“Junior Brother Shen.”

The speaker wore a tailored crimson martial outfit that traced the slender curve of her waist. Her features were fair, and she cupped her fists in greeting:

“My name is Luo Qiaoqian.”

In his days since joining the hall, Shen Xiuhan had interacted with few fellow disciples besides Xiao Wen.

But he’d gathered no small amount of intelligence on the outer-court disciples’ backgrounds.

This Luo Qiaoqian, for instance, was a branch-family member of the inner city’s Luo clan.

The Luo clan, together with the Bai, Ji, Han, and Wang families, were known as the Five Great Families of Changyun County — lineages of considerable depth and influence.

Shen Xiuhan vaulted neatly off the wooden post and returned her salute with measured composure — neither humble nor overbearing:

“Senior Sister Luo.”

“No need for formalities, Junior Brother. I simply saw something that piqued my interest and wanted a quick word.”

Luo Qiaoqian smiled brightly, her gaze sweeping over him:

“During the assessment just now, Master was quite pleased with you, Junior Brother Shen. At your rate of progress, knocking on Blood’s door and entering the inner court is surely only a matter of time.”

“Senior Sister gives me too much credit.”

Shen Xiuhan replied evenly:

“Every senior brother and sister here is ahead of me in cultivation. I’m simply the slow bird taking flight early — I don’t deserve such generous praise.”

“Oh, Junior Brother, you’re too modest…”

Luo Qiaoqian gave a light, charming laugh and took a graceful half-step closer:

“I see how hard Junior Brother trains, and it’s truly admirable. But the martial path has always followed the saying: ‘three parts training, seven parts medicine.’ If you simply grind away at your qi-blood without supplementation, I’m afraid you’ll damage your foundation…”

She paused, her beautiful eyes locking straight onto Shen Xiuhan’s, her breath fragrant as orchids:

“This evening, I’ve reserved a quiet private room at the Drunken Immortal Tower in the inner city, with a special qi-blood medicinal feast prepared. Would Junior Brother care to grace me with his presence?”

A faint flicker passed through Shen Xiuhan’s eyes.

This was… a recruitment pitch?

Or rather… an investment?

In the half-month since he’d entered the hall, he’d kept to himself socially, but he’d mapped out how the martial hall operated — seven or eight parts out of ten.

The inner court’s personal disciples, for instance, were all experts who had broken through into Manifest Strength.

Yet aside from Second Senior Brother Xu Chuan, who oversaw the outer court on the Master’s behalf, the rest were rarely seen at all.

A few inquiries revealed the answer: they’d all taken retainer positions with the inner city’s various powers.

As the old saying went: scholarship is cheap, but martial arts devour fortunes.

Once a martial artist entered Manifest Strength, every realm beyond it burned through real gold and silver!

The flesh and blood of treasure beasts to strengthen qi-blood, the costly medicinal decoctions to temper bone and sinew — which of these wasn’t a bottomless pit that swallowed gold?

An ordinary household of modest means simply could not sustain the expenses of a Manifest Strength martial artist.

And so, every hall-trained martial artist needed to find a patron — a source of income to fund their cultivation.

Serving as a retainer, estate guard, or martial instructor for Changyun County’s wealthy clans, escort agencies, and apothecaries was without doubt the steadiest and most lucrative path.

As for branch-family members like Luo Qiaoqian, the best they could hope for in the future was managing one of the clan’s shops. Real power and the family’s core affairs would never be within their reach.

Did the inner-city clans spend good money on tuition to stuff them into the martial halls just so they could temper their qi-blood and learn a few moves?

Hardly.

Their real task was to keep their eyes on the most promising seedlings in the martial halls and reel them in early — before they made their name — locking down the investment while the price was still low.

But from Shen Xiuhan’s perspective…

Luo Qiaoqian’s invitation was nothing more than an idle move on the board, placed without much thought.

A disciple who hadn’t even broken through to Blood Tempering and merely showed decent form in his stance work… what investment value did he have? Not a damn thing.

This was simply the standard patronage game that clan scions played!

Spend a little money planting goodwill in advance. If Shen Xiuhan one day stepped into Manifest Strength, she could leverage that “connection” to smoothly fold him into her service.

If he never advanced beyond this point, all she’d lose was the cost of a single dinner.

A tiny wager for a potential windfall — all upside, no risk.

So Shen Xiuhan didn’t hesitate long before politely declining, citing his “dull aptitude” and “need to focus on stance training.”

As he’d expected, Luo Qiaoqian’s warm smile didn’t stiffen by so much as a fraction — still as radiant as before.

She nodded understandingly and left him with: “Junior Brother’s devotion to the martial path is truly admirable. Senior Sister won’t press the matter — we have all the time in the world.” Then she turned and walked away.

After all, it was just casting a wide net.

If this piece wouldn’t bite, the next one would.

…

Heavy snowfalls came one after another, and seven days slipped by in a flash.

During this time, Changyun County was on edge, the whole city abuzz with talk of the feud between the Bai family and Tongbei Martial Hall.

Ever since the gambling dens were sealed, the bad blood between the two sides had deepened by the day.

Disciples from both sides had even brawled openly in the outer-city wards, leaving several seriously wounded.

The situation was spiraling out of control.

Yesterday, Tongbei Martial Hall’s hall master Yan Xiao had personally sent a visiting card and gone to the Bai estate, meeting behind closed doors with the Bai Patriarch — Bai Shan — who also served as the County Captain.

The meeting ended badly.

Rumor had it that when Yan Xiao stormed out of the Bai estate with a black look on his face, his foot came down hard at the threshold — and the entire slab of bluestone outside the door was ground into powder beneath his heel, fragments scattering in all directions.

Anyone with eyes could see that the two families had torn all pretense of civility to shreds.

The fighting from here on would only grow more ferocious.

But the storm raging outside hadn’t touched Shen Xiuhan in the slightest.

Mei Martial Hall.

A corner of the training grounds.

“Hoo…”

Shen Xiuhan drew his stance to a close and exhaled a breath of turbid air.

A full fifteen days of relentless practice, supplemented by three meals a day of solid nourishment, had filled out his once-thin frame considerably.

Compared to the frail wraith who had first walked into the martial hall, he looked like a different person entirely.

And today, Shen Xiuhan had finally performed the notoriously difficult Dark Eagle Stance from start to finish in one fluid sequence!

All twenty-eight foundational frames, linked seamlessly!

Though the form was still rudimentary — he hadn’t yet produced the surging rush of qi-blood.

But this rate of progress was already enough to make the inner-city disciples regard him in a completely new light.

Over the past few days, figures like Luo Qiaoqian had approached him on their own initiative — striking up conversations, even inviting him to small gatherings at restaurants.

Shen Xiuhan declined them all, politely and without exception.

The recruiters themselves took it in stride, but the ordinary disciples orbiting them were indignant on their behalf, cursing him under their breath for not knowing a good thing when he saw one.

Shen Xiuhan turned a deaf ear.

He wasn’t learning martial arts for other people’s approval.

His purpose had been simple from the very beginning.

So that his aging mother would no longer have to soak her hands in ice water in the dead of winter, washing and mending clothes for the wealthy.

So that his little sister could sleep through the night in peace, undisturbed, in this troubled world.

And for himself…

To defy the heavens and change his fate!

This — this was his martial path.

And now…

The moment had come.

Shen Xiuhan slowly closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness into the pale golden interface.

【Deducible martial art detected: “Dark Eagle Stance.” Initiate Deduction?】

“…Yes.”