11: Chapter 11 Undercurrents

Zhang Shan stood in a daze, the words "Go make me a pot of tea" buzzing in his ears, making him dizzy.

He watched Chen Fan's back as he turned and walked into Tingzhu Pavilion—tall and composed, as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than casually brushing dust off his sleeve.

The surroundings were dead silent.

Wang Chong was still kneeling on the ground, clutching his burning face, his expression filled with humiliation and malice.

The other Outer Sect Disciples were as quiet as cicadas in winter, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Daoist Master Xuanli wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and glared fiercely at Wang Chong, his eyes looking as if he wanted to skin him alive. Then, he trotted after Chen Fan, a fawning smile once again plastered on his face.

"Young Master Zhao, Young Master Zhao, please calm your anger. I will definitely punish this scoundrel severely!"

Chen Fan didn't look back, only waved his hand as he walked through the courtyard gate.

Daoist Master Xuanli didn't dare follow further and could only stop at the entrance. He turned around and barked at the group of stunned Disciples, "What are you looking at! All of you, get back and copy the Scripture of Purity and Stillness a hundred times! Wang Chong, get yourself to the Discipline Hall!"

The people on the martial arts field instantly scattered like birds and beasts.

Only Zhang Shan remained standing there stupidly until Chen Fan called out impatiently from the courtyard again.

"Where's the tea?"

Zhang Shan jolted, finally snapping out of his daze, and rushed into the kitchen in the side room of Tingzhu Pavilion, practically scrambling on all fours.

...

A quarter-hour later, Zhang Shan carried a tray, his hands shaking like leaves in the autumn wind, as he cautiously walked up to Chen Fan.

A significant amount of water had already spilled out of the teacup.

"Young... Young Master, the tea..."

Chen Fan leaned back in the bamboo chair, eyes closed, and merely let out a grunt of acknowledgement.

Zhang Shan placed the teacup on the stone table and then stood to the side at a loss, his head bowed, not even daring to glance at Chen Fan.

He was just a poor soul who had sold himself to the temple as a servant because his home had been hit by disaster, his parents were dead, and he was on the verge of starvation. If it weren't for Young Master Zhao today, he probably would have been beaten to death by Wang Chong.

But he couldn't understand—why?

Why would this legendary Young Master Zhao, who was said to be even more arrogant and overbearing than Wang Chong, save him?

The courtyard was very quiet, with only the orange cat licking its paws in the corner.

"How old are you?"

Chen Fan's voice broke the silence.

Zhang Shan blanked for a moment before realizing the question was for him, and hurriedly replied, "To... to answer the Young Master, I am fifteen."

"And your parents?"

"...Both gone." Zhang Shan's voice lowered. "They... starved to death during the famine the year before last."

Chen Fan opened his eyes.

He looked at the boy before him, who was as thin as a bean sprout, wearing a faded Taoist robe and sporting several bruises on his face.

Another poor soul.

In this world, human life was cheaper than grass. His past self, Zhao Long in this life, and the Zhang Shan before him were all nothing more than people struggling in the torrent of the times.

It was just that some were on dragon boats, while others were on broken planks.

"From now on, you'll stay here. Laundry, cooking, sweeping the courtyard—you can do those things, right?"

"Yes! Yes! I can do anything!" Zhang Shan was so excited he almost knelt down.

Staying in Tingzhu Pavilion meant he no longer had to squeeze into the large shared bunks with the others in the outer sect, no longer had to fetch water and chop wood before dawn, and most importantly, no longer had to endure the looks from people like Wang Chong.

To him, this was simply heaven.

"Fine." Chen Fan picked up the teacup and blew on it. "As long as I am Zhao Long for a day, no one will dare touch you again."

He simply felt that having someone around to serve him was more convenient than doing everything himself. Saving a life in passing was, to him, an effortless task that required no more than a lifting of a finger.

Why not?

Hearing those words, Zhang Shan's eyes grew hot, and he knelt down heavily, giving Chen Fan a loud kowtow.

"Thank you for your great kindness, Young Master!"

Chen Fan ignored him and continued drinking his tea.

Over the next few days, Chen Fan's life became even more comfortable.

Zhang Shan was very diligent; though he was small and thin, he worked hard. The entire Tingzhu Pavilion was kept in perfect order, and Chen Fan's daily meals and tea were served impeccably.

Chen Fan remained his usual lazy self, spending his days either feeding the cat or reading, occasionally lying in the bamboo chair and sleeping through the entire afternoon.

One day, after waking from his nap, he found Zhang Shan standing in a corner of the courtyard, secretly mimicking something from the pile of martial arts manuals he had discarded.

He was learning the starting stance of the Stone-Crushing Fist, the horse stance.

However, his posture was crooked and his center of gravity was unstable, making him look both clumsy and comical.

Chen Fan watched for a while and found it to be an eyesore.

"Lower your waist."

He spoke lazily.

Zhang Shan was startled by the sudden voice, his body stiffening as he nearly fell over. When he turned and saw that Chen Fan was awake, his face instantly turned bright red.

"Young... Young Master, I..."

"I said, lower your waist a bit more, and spread your legs." Chen Fan shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again.

Zhang Shan was stunned.

He thought he would be punished for secretly learning martial arts, but he hadn't expected... the Young Master to actually be guiding him?

He didn't dare think too much and hurriedly adjusted his posture according to what Chen Fan said.

Though it was only two short sentences, Zhang Shan felt his lower body become much more stable, and a surge of strength rose from the soles of his feet.

He was overjoyed and began to treat Chen Fan's words as gospel.

From then on, besides serving Chen Fan, Zhang Shan would practice relentlessly in the courtyard whenever he had a spare moment.

And Chen Fan would occasionally toss out a pointer or two from his feigned sleep.

"Raise your hands higher."

"Sink your Qi into your Dantian; I'm not telling you to hold your breath."

"Make your steps steadier."

He was just bored, and watching that clumsy posture was truly uncomfortable.

But he didn't realize that this seemingly frail boy, Zhang Shan, had an extraordinarily good innate talent for the martial Dao.

No matter what Chen Fan said, he could grasp it immediately and apply it to other areas. In just over ten days, he was performing the basic Stone-Crushing Fist quite well, with his punches whistling through the air and even carrying a hint of Aura.

"I couldn't even learn it, but you've mastered it..." Chen Fan muttered to himself.

That day, Zhang Shan threw a punch at the Stone Lock in the courtyard used for testing strength.

"Bang!"

With a dull thud, the Stone Lock, which weighed at least a hundred jin, was actually shaken by his strike.

Chen Fan was feeding dried fish to the orange cat when he heard the noise and lifted an eyelid to take a look.

Interesting.

This body was a good sprout for martial arts—countless times better than the hollowed-out shell that was Zhao Long.

If given a superior Mind-Cultivation Technique, he might actually be able to make a name for himself on the path of the martial Dao.

Chen Fan withdrew his gaze and continued to tease the orange cat with the dried fish, his face showing no emotion.

The next day, when Daoist Master Xuanli came, he brought the best Breathing Technique from the Qingyang Taoist Temple.

"Take it and practice well."

Chen Fan tossed the Breathing Technique into Zhang Shan's arms and then turned to leave.

He left Zhang Shan standing there alone, staring blankly at the manual.

...

Unlike the leisure and comfort of Tingzhu Pavilion,

the atmosphere in the Outer Sect Disciples' courtyard was oppressive.

The red mark from Daoist Master Xuanli's slap still remained on Wang Chong's face. Ever since that day when he was forced to kneel in public on the martial arts field, he had become the laughingstock of the entire outer sect.

The fellow Disciples who used to follow him around now avoided him whenever they saw him.

His heart was full of malice, with nowhere to vent it.

The punishment in the Discipline Hall and his Master's scolding were nothing compared to the disdainful and mocking looks from his peers, which bothered him even more.

All of this was because of that trash named Zhao Long!

How could a playboy who relied on his father make him lose face like this!

In the dead of night,

Wang Chong quietly slipped out of his room and went to a remote corner of the temple's back mountain.

He pulled a fire starter from his robe and waved it five times toward an old locust tree in a pattern of three long and two short signals.

Before long, a dark figure darted out from the forest.

"Daoist Wang, it's so late. What's the urgent matter?" the newcomer asked in a raspy voice, carrying a scent of blood.

"Cut the nonsense!" Wang Chong lowered his voice, pulled a piece of paper from his robe, and shoved it over. "This is a map of the Qingyang Taoist Temple, along with the patrol times for the Disciples."

The shadow took the map, glanced at it by the moonlight, and smiled.

"Daoist Wang has truly paid a high price. Tell me, what do you want us from Black Wind Mountain to do?"

"Zhao Long!" Wang Chong gritted his teeth, speaking each word with venom. "The magistrate's son is hiding in Tingzhu Pavilion!"

"I want him dead!"

"And I want him to die a horrible death!"

The shadow tucked the map away. "A playboy is not difficult. But the Qingyang Taoist Temple is not a kind place after all; the Temple Master, Daoist Master Xuan Yangzi, and his Qingyang Sword Technique are nothing to sneeze at."

"He's just a piece of trash!" Wang Chong said urgently. "He only has a newly recruited little servant by his side! As long as you avoid the patrols and sneak into Tingzhu Pavilion, killing him will be as easy as turning over your hand!"

"Once it's done, my uncle will find a way to help you delay the County Office's clearing plan for half a month!"

The shadow was silent for a moment.

"Fine."

"I will deliver the message. But as for exactly how to proceed, that will be up to our Chief."

With that, the shadow flickered and disappeared into the night.

Wang Chong stood where he was, a sinister smile appearing on his face.

"Zhao Long, let's see how arrogant you can be this time!"

...