"How do you know all this stuff?" Cao Yang asked.
Li Yan rolled her eyes. "Well duh—I worked at a nightclub. You hear a lot of underworld stories there."
…
By the time they reached Houjie, night had already fallen. Li Yan found a tiny budget motel and paid ten yuan for a room.
The room was tiny—just a bathroom and one small bed.
"I'm sleeping on the bed. You sleep on the floor," Li Yan declared, pointing at the broken mat in Cao Yang's hand.
"Why do you get the bed?" Cao Yang protested. "I want to sleep on the bed too."
"Because I paid for the room!" she said triumphantly.
Cao Yang went silent for two seconds.
"…Then I'll go get my own room."
"Wait." Li Yan grabbed him by the arm. She reached into his bag and quickly found the two hundred yuan she'd given him earlier—then stuffed it back into her own pocket.
"What the hell are you doing?" Cao Yang's face darkened. Who takes back money they already gave out?!
Li Yan spoke confidently: "I don't have a job anymore. That means no income. So I'll hold onto the money before you waste it!"
Then she generously handed him twenty yuan.
"Here. Use this for now. If you need more, just tell me."
Cao Yang inhaled slowly, resisting the urge to smack her. He collapsed onto the bed.
"Whatever. I'm sleeping here tonight."
"Fine, fine. Just—don't try anything funny," she warned, scooting a bit farther away.
They lay there chatting—first about childhood stories, then about their futures.
"You're so good at fighting," Li Yan said seriously. "You should become a bodyguard for rich people!"
Cao Yang shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"I don't like it."
"Bro, it pays! Don't tell me you don't like money?!"
Cao Yang considered it… and nodded. "I like money."
"Then why don't you go?!"
"I don't know any rich people. Do you? Introduce me?"
Li Yan went silent.
After a while, she asked, "Why are you so good at fighting? Did you practice some martial arts before?"
She remembered him being tough as a kid—chasing seven or eight other kids all by himself. But she never imagined he'd be this terrifying as an adult.
Cao Yang shook his head… then nodded.
"I never learned martial arts. But I did train in cultivation. Do you believe that?"
Li Yan froze—then burst into laughter.
"Oh, I believe it! My mom said when you were a kid, you got tricked into kneeling and calling some idiot your master. You did laundry and farm work for him too!"
"HAHAHAHA!" She laughed louder the more she thought about it.
Cao Yang's face turned black as soot.
That was a memory he wished could be erased.
Years ago, in the mountains behind his village, there stood a tiny, broken-down Taoist temple—so fragile a breeze could knock it over.
A crazy Taoist priest lived there. He was Cao Yang's childhood nightmare.
One day, Cao Yang and two friends went up the mountain to steal fruit. Passing by the temple, they noticed the crazy priest wasn't home.
So naturally, they wanted to break in and steal something to sell for ice pops.
There was nothing of value in the whole place—except two aluminum pots in the kitchen.
Just when they started taking them, the crazy Taoist returned. Cao Yang's two friends ran like their lives depended on it, leaving him in the kitchen to get caught.
He was terrified.
But surprisingly, the crazy Taoist didn't scold him. Instead, he smiled kindly and said:
"Little one, remarkable! A beam of divine light just shot out from your crown. Did you feel it?"
Cao Yang shook his head blankly.
"You are a once-in-a-million cultivation genius. Kneel and take me as your master—I shall guide you on the great Dao."
And Cao Yang believed him.
Influenced by TV dramas where powerful masters acted eccentric—Hong Qigong, Ouyang Feng—he was convinced this priest was a hidden expert.
So he kneeled and called him "Master."
The master then taught him a mystical cultivation manual—too outrageous to write down here, or people would think this novel suddenly turned into a xianxia story.
Every morning before dawn, Cao Yang climbed the mountain to meditate with his master.
After school, he chopped wood, farmed, fed chickens, and did chores for him.
His mom scolded him many times—"Why do chores for a crazy man when you don't even help your own family?!"
But no matter how much she yelled, he kept going up the mountain.
This lasted three years.
Until one day, the village chief saw them meditating and asked why Cao Yang wasn't studying.
Cao Yang proudly explained he was cultivating the Dao.
The chief burst out laughing.
He explained the "master" was actually the village idiot from the neighboring village.
His real name was Zhang Qiyang.
He used to be normal—one of the few high school students in that era, even a teacher. He married a pretty wife and lived well.
But his mother was poisoned—by his wife and father, who were having an affair.
His mother caught them, and to keep it secret, they killed her.
Such a scandal destroyed him. He went insane—ran around naked eating garbage.
The old Taoist of their village pitied him and brought him to the temple. After the old man passed away, Zhang stayed there alone.
Hearing the truth, Cao Yang nearly exploded.
He had called a lunatic "Master" for three years!
He immediately committed "betraying the master and destroying the sect"—wrecking the kitchen, chicken coop, and vegetable garden. If the village chief hadn't stopped him, he would've torn down the whole temple.
Everyone in Wangwang Village laughed at him for years.
Until a few years ago when the crazy Taoist walked down the mountain and got run over—cleanly split in half—that was when the story finally faded.
Cao Yang helped bury him—after three years together, he couldn't help feeling something.
He buried his master behind the temple.
Soon after, the temple collapsed into ruins.
Cao Yang stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Back then, he believed his master was a hidden immortal.
When the truth came out, he believed the man was a fraud.
But now… he wasn't sure.
He'd never lost a fight in his life. His speed, strength, reflexes were all far beyond normal people.
Was it just natural talent?
Or did those three years of "cultivation" actually do something?
He thought again.
Before he took that master… he never lost fights either.
Probably just born this way.
…
"Ahhh… ahhh…"
Late at night, the tiny motel filled with various "battle sounds."
At first it was only next door.
But soon it came from upstairs, downstairs, left, right—factory girls and boys all unleashing their nightly energy.
Cao Yang stared at the ceiling, suffering silently.
Li Yan stared too, also suffering.
Suddenly, Cao Yang turned toward her.
Li Yan also turned toward him.