Liang Qu wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
He hadn’t realized until now that the skin between his thumb and forefinger had split open, the flesh peeling back, leaving his hands covered in crimson.
Perhaps it had happened when he struck the bricks earlier.
The blood remained smeared across his face, leaving a streak from where he’d tried to clean it.
Despite the mess, he didn’t care.
His eyes were filled with disbelief.
So many people had jumped down from the roof, with Hu Qi and Xiang Changsong hot on their heels.
There was no need to ask who the leading elder was.
Yang Dongxiong! The true master of the Yang Clan Martial Hall, rumored to be the most formidable great Martial Master in Peaceful Sun Town!
Liang Qu had no idea what the third son, Zhao Xueyuan, might have thought before this sudden turn of events, but had he known, he would certainly have agreed.
In storybooks, the emperor is always wise and martial, and the people only suffer when evil ministers hold sway, deceiving and misleading them.
But storybooks are just that—a narrative about what people long for but cannot have.
Reality does not have that many detectives, nor do people’s parents have the time and energy to sort out the truth plainly and clearly for everyone.
How many people dare to report their grievances to the authorities?
In schools, how many bullied students dare to speak to their teachers?
People in power don’t have the energy to separate truth from falsehood among those under them; they just think it’s easier to punish everyone and send them on their way to solve the problem neatly.
People of low status, used to hardship, find it hard to hold any illusions about those in power.
If you can’t get rid of someone entirely from your life, the one left battered and bruised will only be yourself.
Liang Qu had thought he would be seen as a troublemaker and thrown out of the Martial Hall by the Martial Master, but he never expected this developing turn of fate!
Yang Dongxiong bent slightly, his face beaming, “What’s the matter; don’t you wish to?”
Hearing these words, Li Libo and Chen Jiechang grew anxious.
If they could speak mind-to-mind, they would definitely scream inside Liang Qu’s head to agree immediately.
The other martial apprentices stood silently by.
Liang Qu imagined them watching him from behind, their eyes full of envy, jealousy, and hostility.
A disciple, a true personal disciple, wasn’t something you could become just by paying to be a regular apprentice at the Martial Hall!
In a daze, Liang Qu came back to himself and immediately knelt down, kowtowing three times with loud thuds.
“Disciple Liang Qu greets Master!”
Beneath a man’s knees lies gold, but to bow to a teacher, there is no shame!
As the saying goes, teaching a disciple may starve the master, but to learn a craft, one must support the master in old age—this principle holds everywhere.
Yang Dongxiong’s actions reassured Liang Qu that his decision was not wrong.
“Good, good, good!” Yang Dongxiong was overjoyed, and bent down to help Liang Qu up. “Get up, you’re hurt. You can offer the tea of respect later. But since you’ve knelt, our bond as master and disciple is now fixed. You shall be my ninth disciple!”
Looking past Yang Dongxiong, Liang Qu saw the seven standing behind him—six men and one woman.
Though one was absent, among them were Senior Brother Xiang and Senior Brother Hu.
Senior Brother Xiang winked at him, while Senior Brother Hu stealthily gave a thumbs-up.
“Congratulations, Junior Brother Liang!”
“Junior Brother Liang truly is outstanding.”
“Oh no! With Junior Brother Liang here, my title as the most handsome might be lost!” A tall youth feigned shock.
“Nonsense, even if Junior Brother Liang weren’t here, the title already belongs to me!” another chimed in.
“You two should go look in a mirror if you still have any respect left for yourselves,” the lone female disciple scoffed.
Xiang Changsong felt his pockets regretfully. “Sadly, I don’t have any suitable welcoming gift on me right now. I’ll make up for it next time we meet.”
“How annoying, Senior Brother Xiang, you had to mention gifts! I absolutely hate choosing gifts!”
The scene was lively and full of joy, and Liang Qu couldn’t help but smile.
It felt so good.
Clearly, his choice wasn’t wrong.
Yang Dongxiong stroked his beard, finding Liang Qu more likable the more he looked at him.
He wasn’t someone who accepted students casually, nor was it some kind of compensation-driven gesture.
Rather, it came purely from an admiration for talent.
Earlier on the roof, Yang Dongxiong had listened to apprentices drafted into the commotion relate the background of the events.
Even with some details missing, at his age, he could see the entire sequence at a glance.
Xiang Changsong further revealed how Liang Qu had used all his savings to rescue Chen Qingjiang because of a time when Chen Qingjiang had given him a single pancake.
It wasn’t that news of this act had spread from Righteous Prosperity City to Peaceful Sun Town; rather, it was mentioned by Li Libo and Chen Jiechang.
After Hu Qi took leave, the only acquaintance they had in the Martial Hall was Xiang Changsong.
Occasional chats naturally brought up the matter.
One rumor heard, another event witnessed; the combination was enough to testify to Liang Qu’s good character.
Moreover, having only been in the hall for a month and already capable of taking on seven opponents alone, his talent wasn’t in question.
His vitality was probably as thick as a pinkie finger, which explained his robust physique.
With talent, character, and being a student of the hall, the only downside was his unrefined fighting skills; fighting head-on, taking on all seven in a hard struggle when he could have minimized the cost.
But this was a minor issue.
Many in the hall learned only refining methods without practicing fighting techniques.
After all, everyone was looking for a livelihood through the way of martial strength, which was understandable and could easily be addressed later.
Yang Dongxiong encouraged him, “Courage is commendable, yet rough fighting skills need work. Refining methods are crucial, but never forget to learn the ways of combat. A martial artist’s path lies in seizing life through strength.”
Liang Qu quickly bowed, “Disciple will remember.”
He knew Master Yang was right; he only had refining methods, no practiced fighting style, and relied on sheer grit and courage in conflicts.
Nonetheless, it was out of necessity.
Fighting skills aren’t just about posing stances or memorizing routines; just look at the seven who had fallen to understand this.
Even after a month, those seven continued to brandish sticks without much progress—becoming truly skilled requires long-term sparring to develop muscle memory.
His outstanding performance wasn’t something he completely understood but rather depended on his physical condition and the fierce poise cultivated during life-and-death struggles with the Crab Monster.
Yang Dongxiong nodded, then turned to his disciples, “Changsong, Hu Qi, since you two are already acquainted with your Ninth Junior Brother, go help him wash his face and change clothes. And for the other two, don’t forget there should be an empty room in the back yard; tidy it up for them to stay tonight.”
Liang Qu’s face was smeared with blood, some his own and some others'.
It was unbecoming.
His body was aching all over, having taken many hits.
He needed some thorough cleaning.
“Yes!”
Xiang Changsong and Hu Qi carried Li Libo and Chen Jiechang to their feet.
Liang Qu walked alone, relatively unharmed.
Li Libo and Chen Jiechang suffered the worst injuries, finding walking difficult.
Together they made their way across the corridor that led to the back yard.
Tall walls on either side blocked moonlight and lamps, making the narrow passageway a pitch black.
While the Martial Training Grounds remained bright with light and bustling figures.
People naturally parted, making way as if the Peach Mountain had been cleaved open by Erlang Shen’s axe.
The eyes of several apprentices followed Liang Qu’s movements; where once there was ridicule and derision, they now felt respect, envy, and indignation.
In the flower beds, crickets resumed their song.
As they passed, one side was bright, the other in shadow.
Liang Qu vanished into the darkness, but everyone knew he was headed toward a path more brilliant than the rest on the Martial Training Grounds.
Yang Dongxiong watched his new disciple leave.
Then he turned to the others at the training grounds, his face growing stern. “Now that this is settled, let’s not waste time. Line up and show me what you’ve learned today.”
Most present were seasoned learners who knew what to do, and newcomers followed their lead.
A line quickly formed in front of Yang Dongxiong, with apprentices stepping up one by one to demonstrate the day's lessons, hoping to receive guidance.
Meanwhile, the injured Lu Tingcai and his companions lay on the ground bleeding, ignored by all.
(This concludes the chapter)