The sight of the cloud-wrought sigils stirred memories of a blood-soaked night a decade past, flooding Li Yongyi's mind like a storm breaking a dam. Ten years of hiding under false names, ten years of fleeting peace, shattered in an instant. The burly man's iron grip clamped his throat, his tiger-like eyes blazing with menace, sweeping the apothecary as the crowd cowered in silence, broken only by the stifled groans of the wounded guards.
In the heart of Guanwing City's eastern quarter, the Hall of Rejuvenation stood as the finest apothecary, its three hired guards—men who could heft millstones and cleave oaks with a single stroke—now lay broken, blood staining their tunics, unable to rise. Onlookers, hands pressed to mouths, gazed with pity at the boy hoisted by the neck.
The elderly shopkeeper, bent like a willow, scurried forward, his face wreathed in obsequious smiles. Slipping a bulging purse into the man's sleeve, he pleaded, "Pray, sir, might there be some misunderstanding? The Hall of Rejuvenation, a century-old name, has ever abided by the law. Harbor a fugitive? Never! And this lad is frail—spilling his blood would surely taint your honor."
The man sneered, "Sly-tongued old cur, dare you claim I wrong you?" With a flick of his wrist, he hurled Li Guanyi like a ragdoll. The boy crashed into a solid oak table, wood splintering with a thunderous crack, his back bruising purple. Yet within his chest, the Bronze Cauldron of the Ancients flared with crimson light, dulling the pain, sparing his vitals. Face hidden against the floor, Li's heart steadied—he was not their quarry.
The shopkeeper's pleas, invoking ties to city notables, fell on deaf ears. The man waved, and a pack of blade-wielding ruffians stormed the apothecary, upending cabinets, scattering herbs in a chaos of cloying scents and shattered shelves. The Hall of Rejuvenation lay in ruins, its healers pale and trembling, voiceless amidst the wreckage.
A young scholar entered, his boots pristine, his right sleeve adorned with intricate cloud-wrought sigils. "Nothing found?" he asked coolly. The burly man bowed, "We've searched thrice, my lord—nothing." The scholar stepped over strewn herbs, his boot grazing Li's bruised back, drawing a stifled grunt. Unfurling a scroll, he demanded, "Recognize this man?"
The portrait depicted a grizzled warrior, his curled beard framing a leonine face, eyes fierce as a storm-dragon's. The shopkeeper stammered, "No, my lord, never seen him!" The scholar's gaze flickered, a subtle spell confirming the truth. "The rogue is cunning," he said. "These herbs are requisitioned for the crown. Once the fugitive is caught, they shall be returned."
The shopkeeper's heart sank, knowing the crown's promises were as fleeting as mist. Rare ginseng and lingzhi vanished into the ruffians' sacks, pilfered under the guise of duty. The scholar strode out, the burly man nailing the scroll to the apothecary's signboard. "This man, a vile felon, seeks to breach the royal gaol. Report him, and claim five hundred taels of silver!"
The crowd gasped—sixty thousand coins, a fortune signaling a foe of monstrous peril. The band swept away like a gale, bound for another apothecary. The burly man, riding beside the scholar, laughed, "Brilliant, my lord! The rogue's wounds demand these herbs. Strip the city bare, and he's done for!" The scholar's voice was cold: "Yue Qianfeng, master of the Dragon-Tiger Aspect, ranks forty-second on the Aspect Ledger. Even wounded by the Grand General and Luzhou's Sword-Saint, he won't fall easily. The Thousand-Mile Hounds are en route—let him think himself safe."
The man grinned, catching the ploy. "A feint to flush him out!" The scholar smiled thinly. "And the magistrate's stores need replenishing. Why seek another pretext when this serves?" Gazing over the bustling streets, he added, "We shield the realm. Let these smallfolk take pride in their contribution."
Within the Hall of Rejuvenation, wails rose as healers salvaged what remained. Old Chen, the physician, helped Li Guanyi to his feet, sighing, "A heavy fall, but your vitals are spared—fortunate." He pressed a salve into the boy's hands. "These riders plunder under false banners, likely for their own cultivation. A pox on them."
Li murmured, "Mind your words, Chen." Taking extra tonics, he left, buying a roast fowl and a jug of wine before limping down a quiet lane. At a derelict shrine to the mountain god, he paused. The Bronze Cauldron in his chest grew warm, its crimson jade-essence swelling, banishing the curse's chill with vibrant life. Its glow sharpened his sight, revealing what mortal eyes could not.
Above the shrine, a Crimson Drake coiled, its scales shimmering like dawn clouds, vast and serene, gazing down at the boy. Li steadied himself, ignoring the beast, and entered the shrine. There, in a shadowed corner, sat a beggar—tall, ragged, his matted beard and upright spine betraying a presence like a tiger in repose. His face matched the scroll's, unmistakable.
*(End of Chapter)*