“If the martial path is like this, then the immortal cultivation techniques are likely the same principle…”
Wei Tu realized this.
Following this, Wei Tu warned himself that martial arts practice was far from the end. It was fine to use martial arts to attain fame and improve one’s status, but he must remember to avoid conflict and strife, and prioritize preserving his life.
He had a bright future ahead; there was no need to fight to the death with anyone over trivial matters.
“However…”
“Even if the sword remains sheathed, one must still possess it. The art of killing is a means of self-protection and must also be learned.”
……
Time flew by.
In the blink of an eye, the first day of the twenty-fourth year of Qing’an arrived.
This day was the New Year’s festival.
Early in the morning.
After washing up in his room and putting on his winter clothes, Wei Tu carried the holiday gifts he had bought in town a few days prior and, guided by a maid, entered the inner residence.
He rounded the corridor.
He arrived at Master Wu-ju’s living quarters.
In the courtyard stood a middle-aged Confucian scholar wearing a *lan-shan* robe, who bore a seventy-percent resemblance to Master Wu-ju.
However, despite the similar features, the middle-aged scholar’s temperament was quite different from Master Wu-ju’s; he was thin and gaunt, appearing very refined.
“Brother Yan-gong.” Wei Tu stepped forward and bowed to the middle-aged scholar.
The man before him was none other than Master Wu-ju’s only son, Shan Yan-gong, who had long resided in the prefectural city.
Shan Yan-gong had been born with a weak constitution, so he did not follow his father’s path of martial arts, but instead pursued the imperial examinations. Over a decade ago, he had passed the provincial exams and become a second-rank *lingsheng* (scholar) of Qingfeng Prefecture.
A month ago, Shan Yan-gong had returned to the Shan residence along with his mother, Mistress Shan Min.
“Brother Wei.”
Hearing this, Shan Yan-gong turned his head. Seeing it was Wei Tu, he smiled, adjusted his sleeves, and bowed in return.
A short while later.
The door opened.
Wei Tu followed behind Shan Yan-gong into the living room, where they knelt together to pay their respects to Master Wu-ju and Mistress Shan Min.
“This child, bringing gifts again. You’re always so formal,” Mistress Shan Min said with a laugh as she saw Wei Tu still holding the holiday gifts while paying his respects.
“This is your New Year’s money.”
After a moment’s thought, the gray-haired Mistress Shan Min rubbed her waist as she stood up, walked into the inner chamber, took out a stack of red envelopes, and tucked one into Wei Tu’s hand.
“Many thanks, Mistress.”
Wei Tu did not hesitate; he accepted the red envelope from Mistress Shan Min and thanked her.
Although he was already married and an adult, no longer among the children who received New Year’s money, one does not refuse a gift from an elder, and it wasn’t a large sum, so he accepted it.
This was all a gesture of kindness from Mistress Shan Min.
After paying their respects, Wei Tu and Shan Yan-gong stood on either side of Master Wu-ju and his wife, waiting for the other family members to arrive.
“Why haven’t we seen the youngest daughter yet?” After waiting for a short while and seeing the courtyard still empty, Master Wu-ju frowned, dissatisfied.
“Perhaps she was tired yesterday and slept in this morning,” Mistress Shan Min said, her expression also displeased, though she offered a word of excuse.
Seeing this, Wei Tu also frowned inwardly, feeling dissatisfied with the discourteous Miss Shan Fang. However, because he was an outsider, he suppressed these feelings and did not show them.
Rising early on New Year’s to pay respects to one’s elders was a matter of etiquette.
This world was not the modern era; it was an ancient society that placed extreme importance on propriety.
Especially in wealthy households, every word and action had to strictly adhere to ritual and law; one could not overstep.
Shan Fang’s lack of courtesy could be seen as a minor or major issue. If she were dealing with a pedantic old scholar, she would at the very least be accused of unfilial behavior.
They waited a while longer.
From outside the door walked a beautiful woman in red, followed half a step behind by a burly man in brocade.
The man in brocade held the left hand of a boy of about seven or eight, who wore his hair in a topknot.
Seeing the boy, Mistress Shan Min’s expression softened slightly. She patted the boy’s head and gave him one of the red envelopes she had taken out earlier.
“Why are you up so late today?” Master Wu-ju suddenly slapped the tea table beside him and shouted angrily.
Everyone in the living room seemed accustomed to this scene, including Wei Tu, who showed no surprise.
Master Wu-ju was polite to everyone, even his long-term laborers; he was generous and unpretentious, never haggling over trifles.
But toward Shan Fang alone…
Since Shan Fang returned to the Shan residence, Wei Tu had seen Master Wu-ju lose his temper six or seven times in this past month.
“Yi-wu was making a fuss last night, saying he wanted to ride a horse… I coaxed him for a long time, telling him those horses were your treasures and couldn’t be touched…” Shan Fang said, sounding aggrieved.
Hearing this, Master Wu-ju looked impatient. Knowing his youngest daughter’s character, he knew she was plotting after his property again.
However, he found it difficult to reprimand her on this matter, wanting to save face for her.
“Father, you don’t ride those horses in the stable often, and your health hasn’t been good lately. Why not give one to Yi-wu?”
“Yi-wu has been pestering me for a long time.”
Seeing Master Wu-ju’s resolve weaken, Shan Fang took half a step forward, lowered her head, put on a soft expression, and spoke in a hurried tone.
As she spoke, she saw Master Wu-ju press his lips together, his left hand gripping the armrest of his chair, his body tensed. She knew she had him, so she stepped forward again, pressed against his left arm, and repeated what she had just said.
This time, there was even more pleading in her tone.
“Yi-wu is still young, he can’t ride a horse… that old horse in the stable… take it with you when you leave.”
Master Wu-ju closed his eyes for a moment, as if pondering. After a few breaths, he spoke intermittently.
When he finished, he let go of the armrest, his body collapsing into the chair as if all the air had been let out of him.
A good horse is like a second life to a martial artist.
Master Wu-ju had groomed every horse in the stable until their coats were sleek and their spirits high.
But faced with his daughter and grandson Yi-wu…
Master Wu-ju still could not bring himself to refuse.
“Yi-wu, did you hear that?”
“Your grandfather agreed to give you a horse. You’ll have a horse to ride when we get home.”
Shan Fang did not thank Master Wu-ju for his generosity; instead, she held Shan Yi-wu and stood before Master Wu-ju, saying these words.
“Little sister, this is going too far.” Shan Yan-gong, standing behind Mistress Shan Min, looked grim and spoke up in rebuke.
“Big brother, the family hasn’t even been divided yet, and you’re already begrudging me, your sister, for asking Father for a horse? Yi-wu is the one riding it, not me…”
Shan Fang curled her lip.
“Besides.”
“You’re a scholar, you don’t play with blades or staves, can’t you let your nephew have it?”
She added another remark.
“Oh, right, Father.”
“Yi-wu is almost at the age to practice stance training. I want his father to learn our family’s fist techniques as well…”
“With his father teaching him personally, Yi-wu will surely be able to pass the martial examinations and attain fame when he grows up.”
Shan Fang first glanced at Wei Tu, then shifted her gaze to Master Wu-ju, smiling as she spoke.
“Of course.”
“If Brother Wei agrees to teach Yi-wu martial arts in the future, it doesn’t matter if he learns the family techniques or not… it’s all for Yi-wu’s sake…”
Shan Fang smiled.
“This…” Hearing this, Master Wu-ju immediately fell silent. He coughed lightly, waiting for Wei Tu’s response.