Zhao Xuanqi got an earful from Zhao Qin for an entire evening because he had been spending money recklessly.
Zhao Qin even wanted to confiscate his money, but Zhao Xuanqi flatly refused.
'Are you kidding me? How could I let Zhao Qin manage my money? How would I get by then?'
"Qi, now that we've settled down, I want to ask you something. Do you still remember why Father and Mother died?"
Zhao Qin asked Zhao Xuanqi after they finished dessert.
Zhao Xuanqi nodded.
From his memories, Zhao Qi's father, Zhao Rong'en, and mother, Zhou Minqing, had been scholars in Su Sea on the surface, but secretly, they were members of the Divine Land's National Salvation Association.
The couple had published articles in the newspaper, openly promoting their national salvation ideology. A year ago, during a campaign by the major Warlords to encircle and suppress the National Salvation Association, they were added to a purge list, which led to the destruction of their family. After that operation, the National Salvation Association was designated a dangerous organization by the Warlords. It had now gone completely underground, hunted like rats.
But the seeds had been sown. Even under a torrential downpour, embers still smoldered in the darkness.
"I know what the Xiaolin Martial Arts Hall represents. Once you join, some things become unavoidable. I don't want you to follow Father and Mother's path; it's too dangerous. I just hope you can survive and live a good life in these chaotic times. But setting all else aside, at the very least, promise me this: no matter what position you hold or what you achieve in the future, you will not bring shame to Father and Mother in their graves. We do not do things that are cruel and unjust, we do not bully others, and we do not live lives of decadent luxury. Can you promise me that?"
Zhao Qin spoke with a solemn expression. As the old saying goes, an elder brother is like a father, and an elder sister is like a mother. With both their parents gone, Zhao Qin was deeply worried that Zhao Qi would go astray, especially since his recent actions had become increasingly difficult for her to understand.
"I have my principles."
Zhao Xuanqi said with a nod.
Although Zhao Xuanqi's reply was somewhat ambiguous, Zhao Qin felt it was enough. A smile returned to her face as she lowered her head and took a bite of an exquisitely shaped osmanthus cake. A refreshing sweetness and a faint floral scent spread through her mouth. She muttered in a voice so low it was almost inaudible, "When will all four hundred million of our compatriots across the Divine Land be able to taste something like this so easily? When will this land no longer be filled with cold indifference? When will there be no more shattered families, no more displaced people, no more Deng Zhuos, Li Zhuos, or Zhao Zhuos..."
Her voice was soft, but Zhao Xuanqi heard her, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
He deeply admired the pioneers who could reshape the world and turn the tide against all odds. But admiration was one thing; he did not want Zhao Qin to walk that path. With the memories of his past life, he knew all too well just how dangerous it was.
It was a path fraught with peril, with only a slim chance of survival.
The slightest misstep would lead to a point of no return. By comparison, the fate of Zhao Qi's parents could almost be considered merciful.
He only wanted Zhao Qin to live a peaceful and happy life.
'It seems I'll have to pay more attention to this from now on.'
...
...
Early the next morning, Zhao Xuanqi put on a gray Martial Arts Uniform and left the house. Perhaps influenced by his conversation with Zhao Qin, it was the first time since arriving in this world that he took a careful look at the city and the land around him.
The streets were relatively wide, paved with packed earth. In some places, years of neglect had left them riddled with potholes, which would turn the roads into a muddy mess whenever it rained.
As a coastal city, Celestial Sea Prefecture had fairly developed commerce and trade with frequent foreign contact. It was among the first coastal cities to open for trade after the Qian Dynasty's period of isolation. The streets were lined with all sorts of shops, with long banners bearing their names and slogans hanging out front, swaying in the autumn breeze.
Some buildings were typical of the ancient Divine Land, while others had a distinctly Western style.
On the streets, peddlers pushed their carts through the lanes and alleys; roadside stall owners energetically hawked their wares; a public scribe, having set up his stall early, dozed in his chair while waiting for his first customer; newsboys waved their papers and shouted headlines as they hurried past...
The modes of transport were just as varied. Most people traveled on foot, while rickshaw pullers waited by the roadside for fares. Seeing someone on a bicycle was a rare sight, marking them as a person of importance. And as for the few driving old-fashioned automobiles—even if the street was congested, pedestrians and vendors alike would clear a path in an instant, not daring to delay them for a second.
The attire of the pedestrians was also a diverse mix. Some wore traditional jackets and long skirts, others wore a blend of Eastern and Western styles similar to the Sun Yat-sen suits from his past life, and still others wore cheongsams or Western-style suits.
Zhao Xuanqi even saw Caucasians on the street, dressed in sharp suits and leather shoes. Among the yellow-skinned people of the Divine Land, they stood out like cranes in a flock of chickens. This distinction came not just from their skin color, but from their physical build and bearing.
Most common folk of the Divine Land were thin and frail, with sallow complexions and dressed in simple, dirty clothes. They carried themselves with a timid, subservient air. The foreigners, in contrast, were tall and well-dressed, moving with an ineffable confidence—an assurance born from their own strength and that of their civilization.
A hundred years ago, during the Qian Dynasty, the Six Nations had joined forces. Using advanced technology and overwhelming military might, they forced open the gates of the isolated Divine Land, shattering a thousand years of its pride.
From that point on, the entire Divine Land was thrown into turmoil, heralding an era the likes of which had not been seen in a millennium.
Western customs, ideas, and habits poured in, clashing and fusing with the native culture. As a coastal region, the influence of these new Western winds could be felt most profoundly in Yuehai Province.
Anything "Western" was considered good; anything "Western" was considered superior.
The backward and the advanced, the ancient and the modern, the powerful and the weak.
The new and the old fused and collided, forging a unique and turbulent era.
Standing on the side of the road and observing the street scene, Zhao Xuanqi felt a strange emotion stir within him. He wasn't sure if it was because of Zhao Qin's influence or Zhao Qi's memories acting up.
'Was it sorrow? Pity? Resentment? Or indignation?'
'If it's within my power, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do something.'
Zhao Xuanqi shook his head at the thought and continued on his way to the Xiaolin Martial Arts Hall.
Upon entering the Martial Arts Hall, he found that the fourteen Named Disciples had all arrived. When the hour came, an Outer Sect senior brother led them into the ancestral hall in the rear courtyard. Weng Xiaolin himself conducted the initiation ceremony, explaining the School's lineage and origins before reciting its rules. There was nothing particularly novel about them—just the usual tenets of respecting one's master, uniting with fellow disciples, being loyal and righteous, upholding justice, and not teaching the Martial Dao to outsiders without permission.
After the simple initiation ceremony, Zhou Ze, who was now an Inner Sect Disciple, was led away by Weng Xiaolin. Meanwhile, Zhao Xuanqi and the other thirteen new disciples were led back to the Martial Arts Hall's central courtyard by the White-robed True Inheritance disciple.
More than twenty Outer Disciples were already training in the central courtyard. Unlike the regimented training of the Named Disciples, they were all engaged in their own individual practices.
Some were using training equipment, some were practicing the Nine Tiger Forms, and others were sparring. They all glanced over at the group of newcomers who had just joined the Outer Sect.
"My name is Liu Changfeng. You can call me Senior Brother Liu. Now that you've entered the Outer Sect, the Martial Arts Hall has arranged a one-month special training program for you, and I will be your instructor. Remember this: this month is crucial for all of you. I despise slackers and anyone who tries to cut corners, so you'd better give me one hundred and twenty percent. I am not as gentle as the senior brother who taught you before."
The towering, giant-like frame of the White-robed True Inheritance, Liu Changfeng, exerted immense pressure on the young boys and girls. As his gaze swept over them, not a single one dared to meet his eyes.
For some reason, though his head was bowed, Zhao Xuanqi felt the man's gaze linger on him for an extra moment.
With that, the lesson officially began.
First was a lesson on Stance. The group practiced the Nine Tiger Forms under Liu Changfeng's personal supervision. He corrected any and all mistakes. If a disciple made the same error three times in a row, a hand as large as a cattail fan would immediately come slapping down, landing with a sound like an exploding firecracker.
His application of Force was skillful—it injured only skin and muscle, not internal organs. But the searing pain felt as if a chunk of flesh had been torn away, striking terror into their hearts and making sure no one wanted to experience it a second time.
After the Stance lesson came physical conditioning: running laps, lifting stone locks and stone hammers, navigating plum blossom poles, and striking sandbag arrays. By the end of the regimen, every disciple was panting and utterly exhausted, Zhao Xuanqi included. There was no helping it; Physical Ability was a genuine measure that couldn't be faked.
Moreover, even though they were exhausted, none of them dared to slack off in the slightest. The moment anyone tried, that fan-sized palm would descend from on high, leaving them in unspeakable misery.
By the time the two training sessions were over, it was already noon. No one left; they all remained at the Martial Arts Hall, which provided lunch. There were heaping platters of pork, white rice, and vegetables—as much as they could eat.
But under the watchful eyes of the others, Zhao Xuanqi had to restrain his appetite, "only" eating two pounds of pork and three pounds of rice.
After the meal, there was a pot of a thick, black, viscous liquid that gave off a pungent odor.
It was a medicinal decoction brewed from restorative herbs. According to Liu Changfeng, it was a fairly common nourishing tonic made from ordinary ingredients. Even so, these common Medicinal Materials were not cheap, and they were difficult to acquire without the right connections.
The nutrients in a single bowl of this tonic were equivalent to what Zhao Xuanqi could absorb from a massive meal eaten without restraint. Furthermore, it contained fewer impurities, making it easier for the body to metabolize and absorb, and it wouldn't significantly impact his regular daily appetite.
'This is what I truly need.'
Unfortunately, the amount brewed by the Martial Arts Hall was strictly controlled; it was one bowl per person, no more.
During the midday break, Zhao Xuanqi completely absorbed the nutrients from the ample food and the medicinal tonic. His body, exhausted from the physical conditioning, made a full recovery. The steady stream of nourishment rapidly repaired the damage from his training, making his physique that much stronger.
In his past life, thanks to his unique digestive abilities, Zhao Xuanqi could endure more than ten hours of high-intensity training per day.
When the midday break ended, the lessons resumed. The afternoon session was a lecture on the combat applications of the Nine Tiger Forms, covering combos, variations, practical sparring, and partner drills.
Outer Disciples were officially considered part of the Xiaolin Martial Arts Hall. When out in the world, they represented the Hall's reputation. Naturally, the school did not want them to be weak and ineffectual, capable only of flashy, impractical moves.
That was the purpose of this month-long special training: on one hand, to further improve the disciples' skills, and on the other, to more closely observe their aptitude and performance.
And among these fourteen new disciples, Zhao Xuanqi was the one Liu Changfeng was observing most closely.