Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Childhood Friend

Evening.

Chen Cheng deliberately took a detour to a more distant village. He bought a large bowl of lamb stewed until it was fall-apart tender and ate it with two large buns, warming his entire body.

When he returned to Kuhuai Village, whether by coincidence or design, Scar Bear was blocking his path home with two of his cronies.

Chen Cheng’s expression didn’t change as he walked straight toward them.

This time, he didn’t deliberately avert his gaze or hunch his shoulders. He stopped in front of Scar Bear, his back naturally straight, gave a slight nod, and called out in a steady voice.

"Lord Scar."

"Back, are we?"

Scar Bear had a stalk of grass dangling from the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head, sizing Chen Cheng up with a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Heard you’re practicing martial arts? How’s that going?"

"Dragon Mountain Hall’s Lower Courtyard... it is what it is. At least I can get a full meal out of it," Chen Cheng said.

"Not bad."

Scar Bear nodded.

"When you manage to cultivate your Blood Qi and become a real Martial Artist, remember to let me know. I’ll be sure to waive the peace coins for your family!"

"...You jest, Lord Scar. I’m afraid cultivating Blood Qi will be difficult for me."

Chen Cheng replied perfunctorily.

Scar Bear waved his hand, noncommittal.

After Chen Cheng took his leave and walked away, one of the cronies standing beside Scar Bear narrowed his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Lord Scar, that kid was the last one to have a grudge with Lai Tou before he died. Could it be..."

"Doesn’t seem like it."

Scar Bear spat out the grass stalk, his eyes narrowing as he stared in the direction Chen Cheng had disappeared.

"I went to check this afternoon. The scene had no clues, no signs of a struggle. It was the work of a professional. As for that kid from the Chen Family..."

Scar Bear paused, as if weighing his words.

"He just joined the Martial Arts Hall a few days ago. At best, he’s only a bit stronger than some country bumpkin... And no matter how useless Lai Tou was, he’d seen his share of blood. How could he die at this kid’s hands in a single encounter?"

At his words, the two cronies nodded silently.

Scar Bear narrowed his eyes, still seeming to mull something over, and mumbled indistinctly.

"But... since joining the Martial Arts Hall, he’s certainly gotten bolder."

"Lord Scar..."

The crony beside him thought for a moment before speaking again.

"The Black Wolf Gang’s talks with the Qinghe Gang fell apart last night... Zhou Long’s family... can we make a move on them now...?"

"SLAP!"

Before the crony could finish, Scar Bear had already slapped him across the face.

"You can go get yourself damn well killed, but don’t you drag me down with you! Zhou Long has always been a filial son. If you mess with his family, he’ll fight you to the death!"

"Besides, all this Gang business is decided by the big shots up top. Just because they can’t agree today doesn’t mean they won’t be sitting down drinking and laughing together tomorrow!"

Scar Bear bared his teeth and spoke, almost one word at a time.

"Unless the Gang Leader himself gives the order, nobody is to get any ideas about Zhou Long’s family! Don’t go looking for trouble for me!"

...

「Kuqiao Village.」

In the small courtyard beneath the crooked-neck tree, the sweet, metallic scent of rust still lingered in the air.

The three Black Wolf Gang cronies who lived with Lai Tou were now standing by the courtyard wall, their faces ashen. They didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly.

All their usual street-smart slickness and ferocity had vanished, crushed by a deeper, more profound fear.

Standing before them was a man who seemed completely out of place in this dilapidated courtyard.

He was powerfully built with a broad frame, dressed in a well-made, indigo martial arts uniform. Over it, he wore a half-worn but clean navy-blue jacket, with a leather belt cinched at his waist.

His square face was covered with a thick, bushy beard, and his eyes were as deep as two dark pools.

His mere presence exuded an invisible pressure, making the three cronies feel as if sharp claws were wrapped around their throats.

"L-Lord Zhao, rest assured! We won’t forget a single word of what you said... Even if we have to dig three feet into the ground, we will drag out that damn murderer who deserves to be cut into a thousand pieces!"

"You have one month."

"...Yes! We remember! One month!"

The three cronies, nearly scared out of their wits by the palpable pressure and killing intent, could only nod their heads frantically. The backs of their shirts were already soaked with cold sweat.

The man gave Lai Tou’s room one last glance, then flicked his sleeves and departed.

His imposing figure, shrouded in a suffocating low pressure, disappeared into the deepening twilight at the end of the alley.

Only then did the three cronies collapse to the ground, as if their bones had been pulled from their bodies.

"I can’t believe it. That piece of trash Lai Tou... was actually backed by *that* Lord!"

One of the fat ones said, smacking his lips.

"No wonder he was always able to pinpoint the merchant caravans’ delivery routes and get away with robbing them..."

Another, a skinnier fellow, looked completely bewildered.

"But wasn’t it... wasn’t it *that* same Lord who personally crippled Lai Tou’s leg?"

The fat one snorted. "That was Lai Tou’s own fault for not silencing the delivery boy. The news got back to the caravan’s Master... Lord Zhao had to make a show of it."

"Let’s not talk about that for now!"

The one who hadn’t spoken yet narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath.

"Did you two notice... Lai Tou’s eyes and brows, especially his nose and chin... and Lord Zhao’s... don’t they look a little..."

The other two froze for a second, then said in unison.

"Hey! Now that you mention it!"

...

Three evenings later, Chen Cheng left the Martial Arts Hall a little earlier than usual.

Leaving early was normally forbidden, but Fatty Fang had made an exception for Chen Cheng.

He passed through the familiar Southern Three Guards, an area filled with filth and foul odors. As he headed north, the streets and alleys gradually became wider and cleaner, flanked by more brick-and-wood courtyards and small buildings.

In the air, the omnipresent stench of excrement and rot was almost gone, replaced by the smells of food, cooking oil, and burning firewood.

The clothes of the passersby were still mostly simple, but they had fewer patches, and their faces weren’t as gaunt as those in the slums.

The sheer size of Zhao City far exceeded Chen Cheng’s understanding of ancient cities from his previous life.

Starting from the base of the city walls, a hundred households formed a ward, and ten wards formed a Guard. The slums of the South Outer City alone spanned a full Hundred Guards.