"What do you mean by that?"
Li Yan rarely spoke of his father Li Hu's death—it wasn't exactly honorable.
Known as the Sick Tiger of Guanzhong, his father was also a notorious womanizer.
In this life, Li Yan's mother was an ordinary peasant woman. Under his grandfather's strict oversight, his father had lived a relatively stable life, practicing martial arts and leading a simple farmer's existence.
That changed the year after Li Yan was born.
A great drought hit Guanzhong, followed by locust plagues and rampant disease.
That same year, the Maitreya Sect stirred up chaos.
His mother fell ill and died, and with the family unable to make ends meet, his father picked up his blade, venturing into the martial world to earn a living, gradually building a reputation.
But once unleashed, he was like a tiger freed from its cage, untamed.
Not only did he kill without mercy, but he also racked up a string of romantic debts.
When Li Yan was young, he saw several beautiful women storm to their door, crying and fighting, furious. It left his grandfather so upset he couldn't eat for days.
The winter his father died, it was in a Chang'an brothel.
According to the constables and the brothel's manager, he succumbed to "wind on horseback"—a sudden stroke during exertion. The coroner and his grandfather confirmed it after examining the body.
From then on, his grandfather rarely mentioned his father and grew noticeably older.
In the past, Li Yan would've dismissed Sha Lifei's words as lies.
But after learning about the curse, he suspected there was more to the story.
Seeing the killing intent in Li Yan's eyes, his dragon-like gaze glinting coldly, Sha Lifei's heart skipped a beat. He forced a smile. "I heard… well, just heard, mind you… not long after it happened, that brothel had trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"People died. Several of the girls, gone!"
"What's that got to do with my father?"
"I'm a nosy guy, you know. Those girls who died? I happened to know they were all… close with your father."
"Go on."
"Nobody cares much when a few brothel girls die, but the authorities were awfully tense about it. Zhou Pan even got involved, took his disciples to Chang'an, poking around everywhere."
"You know what Zhou Pan's like—grabs any profit, dodges any trouble. For him to be that eager, something's fishy!"
"Plus, your father's death? He's the one who benefited most."
Sha Lifei watched Li Yan's expression as he spoke.
Suddenly, he felt a weight lift. Looking down, he realized Li Yan's short blade had silently retreated into his sleeve, unnoticed.
Sleeve Blade!
Sha Lifei remembered what it was.
When Li Hu was alive, there was a legend in the martial world. Not only was he skilled with the Guanzhong Fast Blade, but he'd also adapted the Monk's Robe Technique and Sleeve Hand to create the Sleeve Blade.
A blade hidden in the sleeve—on the surface, a friendly demeanor; beneath, a deadly strike.
It was with these two blades that Li Hu earned his fearsome reputation. And now, it seemed, he'd passed it to his son.
This kid was even more suited for the Sleeve Blade than his father.
Though Li Yan sheathed the blade, his eyes remained icy. "Uncle Sha, let's be straight. If there's really something to my father's death, I owe you one."
"But that's one thing. Why'd you set me up?"
"Speak clearly, or we're not done today."
Li Yan wasn't called the Troublesome Ghost in the village for nothing.
With two lifetimes of experience, he saw through much. Rules, etiquette, systems—he cared for none, too lazy for pretense.
What was Sha Lifei scheming?
Today, he'd pry it out, even if he had to knock out his teeth!
Looking into Li Yan's eyes, Sha Lifei felt his scalp tingle. He scratched his bald head awkwardly. "Don't get mad, little brother Yan. You know me—loyal to a fault…"
His boasting trailed off, and he sighed helplessly. "Alright, fine. A while back, I accidentally crossed one of Zhou Pan's disciples. But I had to come to Xianyang."
"Knowing your family's got beef with him, I thought I'd bring you along as backup…"
"I see."
Li Yan nodded, understanding dawning. "Uncle Sha, you could've just said so. Look at this mess—almost went south. No hard feelings."
Sha Lifei nodded quickly. "No, no, we're on the same side. Oh, and about Priest Wang's matter, we'll handle it tomorrow. Just keep a low profile when we enter the city."
"Naturally."
Li Yan smiled as if the near-knife incident never happened, strolling off leisurely.
Sha Lifei exhaled, back soaked with sweat, cursing inwardly: *Damn, this kid flips like a dog's face.*
Once this was over, he'd steer clear of him…
---
Near the shelters by the wheat fields, Li Yan found a quiet spot under a tree, hugged his blade, and prepared to sleep.
It was summer, and the nights weren't cold, so he hadn't brought bedding. He'd make do for one night, find Wang Daoxuan, and leave.
Sha Lifei's words weighed on him.
His father's death wasn't just bad luck from a curse—there was more to it.
Whether Zhou Pan was involved wasn't certain.
But some instinct told him it had to do with martial world sorcerers!
Whatever the future held, he needed to step into that world first.
Just then, footsteps approached.
Li Yan opened his eyes and saw Heidan.
The kid held a water skin, hesitant to come closer.
Li Yan grinned. "What's up? Got horns on my head?"
Heidan was the only one in the village close to him, a loyal sort. When he'd asked for help, Li Yan didn't hesitate.
Heidan scratched his head, chuckling sheepishly, and offered the water skin. "Brother Yan, have a drink. You were awesome today!"
"Not awesome. He underestimated me."
Li Yan's face grew serious as he recounted the fight.
Beating Meng Haicheng in one move looked simple, but it wasn't.
First, he knew Meng's Monkey Fist style. His youth made Meng careless, and provoking him created the perfect opening.
Meng was older, with more experience. If he'd fought cautiously, it would've taken more effort to bring him down.
Since they were close, Li Yan shared the insights freely, so Heidan could be prepared in the future.
Heidan's jaw dropped. "It's that complicated?"
Li Yan smiled. "The martial world's full of scheming hearts. Force is only for when masks come off. The hidden blades are deadlier. You need a few extra wits to survive."
He didn't say everything.
Defeating Meng Haicheng wasn't just to show off.
The moment Sha Lifei stirred trouble, Li Yan knew he was up to no good. Only by crushing his opponent could he force the old fox to spill the truth.
His感慨 were genuine.
Blade fights were straightforward; the mystic arts were trickier. Without understanding and guarding against them, you'd die without knowing how.
Heidan sat stunned, then spoke glumly. "No wonder my dad knows some moves but keeps me farming. The martial world's not for me."
His voice grew heated. "Brother Yan, I'm not content staying in the village. Teach me what to do."
Li Yan thought for a moment. "Learn a trade first. To make it out there, you need a way to eat. Otherwise, you're stuck swinging a blade like me."
"A trade…"
Heidan nodded earnestly. "Brother Yan, I'll listen. My uncle's a tanner in Chang'an. If I say I want to learn his craft, my dad won't stop me."
With a spark of hope in his eyes, he scampered off.
Li Yan chuckled, then hugged his blade and closed his eyes.
In his past life, learning to fix cars barely kept him fed.
In this one, he found the blade in his hand far more reliable…
---
Late at night, silence fell.
It was the waning crescent moon, the surroundings dim and lightless.
In the shelters by the wheat fields, snores mixed with cricket chirps.
The hired fighters, exhausted from days of travel, slept early to rest for work before dawn.
The Lu family mansion in the distance was equally quiet.
But key areas were patrolled by guards.
Zhao Jiu yawned, rubbing his face, bored.
As Li Yan guessed, they were disciples of the Zhao Family Fist.
Back in Jinzhou, they'd escorted shipments for a major merchant, a trade passed down for generations, risky but providing well.
But one job went bad—they lost the shipment, their sect lost key members, and their strength and business crumbled.
They would've scattered like monkeys when the tree falls, but someone connected them to work as guards for Master Lu in Guanzhong.
Compared to the old days of constant travel, this was steadier.
But so steady it was itchy—no thieves in sight.
Then, with a casual glance, Zhao Jiu's eyes widened.
He sensed, in the dim distance, a vague figure.
"Who's there?!"
Unfazed, he sneered and darted forward.
The guards had a system of signals to identify their own, even in the dark.
If it was a thief from the Rong family's Flying Bandits, they'd follow martial world etiquette—tossing a stone to test, exchanging words, rarely fighting to the death.
This figure didn't respond, likely an amateur thief.
Zhao Jiu didn't draw his blade but grabbed a rattan stick.
The stick was tough, painful but not lethal. If it was some desperate thief sneaking into homes, a beating would suffice—no need to kill.
But at the corner, he found nothing.
Was he seeing things?
Puzzled, he suddenly felt a chill down his spine.
Turning sharply, his face paled, hair standing on end.
There, faintly, was a hunched, diminutive figure, wrinkled like old leather—an old woman.
But her face was ashen, her feet off the ground, floating in the air…
"Ah—!"
A terrified scream shattered the silence of the Lu mansion…
---
Under the tree by the wheat fields, Li Yan's eyes snapped open.
He sniffed, looking puzzled into the distance.
He caught a strange, distinct scent.
Not the cold, bloody stench of ghost soldiers, nor the calming incense of the Earth Temple, but something warm and sweet, like tempting pastries.
Pastries?
Li Yan wasn't sure why that thought came to him.
But soon, he understood.
The stand-in idol in his dantian stirred eagerly, like a cat smelling fish…
**(End of Chapter)**