Amidst the dense night, the crimson dragon stretched its body, coiling in midair with a low, rumbling growl. Crimson flames flowed across the sky, illuminating the darkness. In Guan Yi City, the trusted ministers of Chen's emperor stared into the night, their faces pale under the fiery glow.
They stood motionless, like lifeless puppets.
The crimson scales drifted down like autumn maple leaves beneath the sunset, streams of fire flowing across the heavens.
Yue Qianfeng patted Li Guanyi's head and laughed heartily. "See? This is called erasing all traces."
"It's Prime Minister Zhuge Ying's favorite tactic—kill the enemies, loot their gold, burn the corpses, leave no witnesses. He's best at piling the heads of barbarians into watchtowers. Too many martial artists out there with fake death pills and strange techniques. Even stabbing the heart might not kill them, but burning does the trick."
"Oh, right. These are for you."
Yue Qianfeng tossed a pouch to Li Guanyi.
Opening it, Li Guanyi saw golden and silver beads inside.
Yue Qianfeng grinned. "Night Riders don't usually carry money, but in special cases, you can dismantle their weapons. The hilts conceal about a tael of gold, and the silver decorations on the scabbards are solid silver."
"This is your share. Accomplices."
"But I didn't do anything," Li Guanyi said.
Yue Qianfeng grinned wider. "Doesn't matter. In my eyes, accomplices share the same risks. Since we faced the same danger, we split the spoils equally. Can't let me take all the gold while you take all the risk, can I? Hahaha."
"But this gold—it has red essence mixed in. It's worth even more. The silver is high purity too. Without the right status, it'll cause trouble if you try to spend it now. Today the Night Riders got wiped out. Best you bury it somewhere and dig it up in a few years."
"That wrist launcher only fires once. Toss that too, save yourself the trouble."
"All traces of energy here have been erased. I'll draw the rest of their pursuers elsewhere. You should go too."
With a wave of his hand, Yue Qianfeng turned and strode off into the darkness. Moments later, he was gone.
From roaring flames to utter silence.
Li Guanyi looked down at the pouch of gold. Five taels of gold, each fused into a bead by Yue Qianfeng's inner strength. Depending on the current rates, that was equivalent to sixty or seventy strings of coins—six years' wages for him without spending a single copper.
A sudden fortune—but no way to spend it!
He rolled the beads in the mud until they looked filthy, then tossed them down the dry well beside the mountain shrine. Hidden among broken stones, no one would notice. He recalled Yue Qianfeng's warning: the aura here was gone, safer to leave it than take it home.
Once the heat died down, he could dig it up again.
A better house. Meat three times a week instead of once.
The rain had stopped. A silver moon hung overhead, pale light blanketing the world. Wisps of cloud drifted lazily across the sky, the black clouds rolling like some slumbering beast. Li Guanyi lowered his gaze, moving carefully, barefoot, using branches to erase his tracks behind him as he walked. By the time he reached the main road, his heartbeat finally settled.
Through dark alleys, turning corners, dodging shadows, until at last he saw a faint yellow light ahead.
Home.
The rented courtyard still had its lamp burning. The wooden door was slightly ajar.
Tension drained from his body as Li Guanyi stepped inside.
He didn't disturb his aunt, though he made sure his footsteps were loud enough to let her know he'd returned. Then, in his small room, he found a blackened iron pot on the table, still warm with ginger tea, and a clean set of clothes folded neatly on his bed.
He smiled faintly.
Stripping off his rain-soaked, bloodied, mud-splattered clothes, he wiped down with water from the basin, dressed in the clean set, then gulped down the ginger tea in one go. The heat rolled through his body, making him shiver involuntarily.
The tight coil of tension finally broke.
Comfort.
He gathered up the ruined clothes, fed them to the flames in the stove, watching them burn to ash, bringing warmth. Good thing he wore his worst set today—didn't even hurt to burn it.
We're rich now!
Doesn't matter. Just a few coins' worth!
He'd spent most of his savings recently to curry favor with Yue Qianfeng, barely enough left to survive another half month. Burning these rags was a minor loss.
His hand rested on his chest, feeling the faint crimson glow of the bronze cauldron beneath his skin. It was beginning to gestate something—but he didn't trigger it yet.
Instead, he lay down and began reviewing everything that had happened.
The Eight Blades of Po Jun. The Battle Array Melody.
He'd personally killed two Night Riders.
The bronze cauldron...
All of it felt like a dream.
Clenching his fist, he closed his eyes again and began circulating his internal energy. The familiar warmth began to flow, calming his mind. After completing two cycles, he could already feel a faint sluggishness in the flow—progress would only slow further with extended effort.
Which meant that no matter how long he meditated, gains would diminish rapidly.
He opened his eyes, confirming it.
His roots were poor.
Yue Qianfeng was fierce but awkward with comfort, his encouragement about "keep trying, you might pass next time" sounded more like a teacher consoling a bad student. But after years of reading medical texts, Li Guanyi already knew the truth.
Born to poison, malnourished, and weak compared to others.
But he had... this.
His gaze fell on the bronze cauldron once more, palm brushing over it. Where once it had been cold, now there was... something.
The cauldron tilted.
Scarlet liquid, like molten jade, poured into his body.
BOOM!
Fire.
Agony.
Like plunging into magma, waves of searing pain. Yet Li Guanyi, accustomed to years of venom flaring within him, endured, gritting his teeth against the torment. Amidst the burning sensation, a crystalline red brilliance seemed to flood his vision.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
And saw it.
A crimson dragon.
Inside his shabby little hut, a red-scaled dragon hung suspended in the air. Its scales gleamed like jade, horns curling majestically, claws gripping nothing yet resting firmly in the void. Its tail stretched like a flowing river, trailing back into the bronze cauldron, drinking from the liquid jade pouring out.
Li Guanyi, in his simple brown clothes, sat cross-legged on the stone bed. His chest faintly smoldered, fabric curling to ash, while the crimson dragon hovered above him, its breath stirring the air with radiant red light.
"This... this is..."
"Yue Qianfeng's dragon..."
Understanding flickered in his mind. The requirement to activate the bronze cauldron—now clear.
The crimson dragon suddenly dipped its head, gazing at him, then without warning, surged forward and slammed into him.
Li Guanyi's vision exploded in red.
Like being struck and hurled into an endless sea of boiling molten rock.
In that instant, visions flooded his mind.
Battlefields. Endless war. Men risking their lives with each step, each swing of their blades. Somewhere, a dragon's roar, and a towering general clad in black armor riding a dragon-like steed, wielding a long-handled saber, swept through enemy ranks.
With every swing, heads flew into the sky.
The Eight Blades of Po Jun.
It was him. It was me.
Li Guanyi clung to that thread of awareness, refusing to lose himself, letting his consciousness flow along the roaring dragon's path, guiding his internal energy to move accordingly.
Before, it took him a whole incense stick's time to circulate three complete cycles of internal energy.
Now—like a meteor tearing across the sky—hundreds of cycles in a single breath.
The first layer of the Battle Array Melody: breakthrough!
Second layer: breakthrough!
Third, fourth, fifth...
The molten jade had an end, just as the battle illusion finally faded, and the crimson dragon gradually disappeared into the void.
When Li Guanyi opened his eyes, the dawn light crept in from the east. Internal energy surged through his body, powerful and steady.
The twelfth layer.
The Battle Array Melody perfected.
A superior martial art is said to take prodigies three years, ordinary talents eight years.
Li Guanyi.
One night.
Mastered!
(End of Chapter)