Chapter 68: Speaking of Old Friends in a Foreign Land

Yang Cheng felt dejected; such a lofty figure was not someone of his humble standing could afford to provoke. The fright had completely chased away his drowsiness. Recalling the earlier discussion about porcelain vessels with Le Yin Gong, he decided to get up and plan how he might use the distillation method to brew strong spirits.

Meanwhile, Lu Baichuan and Liu Changqing returned to their room. Lu Baichuan pointed to the sofa, gesturing for Liu Changqing to sit down. This set of sofas had been a gift from Yang Cheng, who had specially chosen the finest workmanship. Everyone living in the rear courtyard had several sets of furniture to themselves.

Although Liu Changqing's reputation had spread throughout Wuzhou, he had only just arrived the day before and, holding himself aloof, had not wandered about. Seeing the sofa now, he found it rather novel, thinking it perhaps a local custom unique to Wuzhou.

Lu Baichuan smiled and demonstrated how to use the furniture himself, prompting Liu Changqing to praise it enthusiastically. Once the two were settled, they began to reminisce about their experiences since parting.

They talked for a long time. Hua Mingzhu and Xiao Lan came in together, knocking on the door and bringing a tray laden with freshly heated delicacies—an array of pastries and snacks. Lu Baichuan signaled for Xiao Lan to withdraw, leaving only his disciple to pour tea and wine.

Hua Mingzhu stood respectfully to one side, which drew a second glance from Liu Changqing. Lu Baichuan introduced her as his recently accepted disciple. Liu Changqing offered his congratulations without much thought.

As they ate and conversed, Liu Changqing, well-traveled and knowledgeable, was nonetheless amazed by the food on the table, his appetite truly awakened. Unconstrained by etiquette, he paid no heed to his manners—so much so that, in Hua Mingzhu’s eyes, he seemed nothing like the legendary master of his reputation.

Liu Changqing was famed throughout the martial world and loved to spread his own fame; most of his exploits were already common knowledge and needed little elaboration. Lu Baichuan, on the other hand, was low-key, scarcely known outside the Northwest. He spoke of his sworn brother, of traveling thousands of miles to avenge him, and Liu Changqing listened with a sigh, putting aside his earlier dismissiveness.

It was also the first time Hua Mingzhu had heard of Mei Yuchen’s family tragedy. Moved to tears, she felt an even deeper respect for her master’s character.

Lu Baichuan did not shy away from speaking openly before the two present. One was a renowned figure with whom he had some acquaintance—hardly the sort to lower himself to petty betrayals. The other was his own disciple, as dear as a daughter, with nothing to hide from her.

When the conversation turned to recent events, Liu Changqing expressed great admiration for Yang Cheng’s generosity and courage in saving Lu Baichuan. He was both astonished and puzzled by how Yang Cheng, in just a few months, had risen from a fallen house to his current position.

Lu Baichuan took a deep drink and sighed, “Brother Yang has shown great kindness to me and my sworn brother’s family. It’s only right that I stay by his side. At first, I thought I would repay him with ten years of loyalty. But after spending time together, I find myself more curious than ever. I want to see how far he can go, to see what becomes of the people in the Yang household.”

“You’ve seen for yourself, Brother Yang’s cultivation is low, his talent mediocre, and he’s greedy and cautious to boot. By your standards or mine, he’d amount to nothing. But I believe he cannot be judged by ordinary measures. As he puts it himself, he is someone capable of creating miracles. Yes, I want to see how many miracles will be born from him,” said Lu Baichuan, his eyes alight.

Liu Changqing was perplexed. “From what you’ve said, isn’t he just someone who makes food? How much ability could he possibly have?”

Lu Baichuan laughed. “This sofa you’re sitting on—how many great families in Wuzhou now scramble to buy it? He exchanges a handful of spirit coins for hundreds from them. Isn’t that skill a hundred times more effective than us robbing the rich back in the day? In casual conversation, he’s told me so much I’d never have imagined. Brother Yang’s ingenuity is truly boundless. What matters isn’t just his unusual tricks, but the endless stream of methods he devises.”

“I believe it won’t be long before he’s capable of standing against the great clans.”

Liu Changqing began to admire Yang Cheng’s wit, but at the same time scoffed, “In the end, isn’t he just becoming another great clan? Just like before—oppressing the likes of us wandering cultivators.”

Lu Baichuan chuckled. “Brother Liu, you and I both despise the great families and sects. We started from nothing, and how many wandering cultivators have perished along the way? Few have come as far as we have. Why? Because from the moment we began cultivating, we were suppressed at every turn by the descendants of great clans and sects—scarce resources, hard-won treasures seized by others. The path is ruthless; cultivators are selfish. Why have we never slaughtered the weak? Because we know how it feels.”

Liu Changqing felt this deeply. Even now, strong as he was, apart from open challenges, he had to be wary of ambushes and assassins. If he could fight back, fine; if not, he could only run and hide.

“I can imagine that Brother Yang’s future house will be something entirely different. In his domain, servants can earn their freedom, ordinary people can eat their fill and thrive. It’s a place brimming with vitality. In my eyes, he’s far from ordinary. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but given time, he’ll bring a better life to many. Think on it, Brother Liu—how many times have we stood up for the weak? Yet compared to him, we’ve done little.”

Liu Changqing didn’t quite understand, but found himself intrigued by the Yang family.

The two continued drinking, exchanging stories deep into the night. As the wine flowed, Lu Baichuan declared, “Honestly, I’ve gained so much here, I’m loath to leave.” He beckoned to Hua Mingzhu, “Mingzhu, come here and let Senior Liu examine your aptitude.”

At her master’s summons, Hua Mingzhu approached Liu Changqing respectfully and bowed.

Taken aback by Lu Baichuan’s sudden request, Liu Changqing could only reach out to probe her abilities.

“Hmm?” Liu Changqing’s hand trembled slightly in surprise as he gave Hua Mingzhu another careful assessment.

“Brother Lu, congratulations! Who would have thought you’d find such fortune in Wuzhou? Your disciple’s future is boundless!” This time, Liu Changqing truly meant his words. The girl’s innate talent was remarkable—on par with his own. After all, who in the martial world didn’t dream of passing on their legacy to a prodigious disciple? Old Lu’s cultivation might not match his own, but in the matter of accepting disciples, he’d left him far behind.

Lu Baichuan stroked his stubbled chin, looking pleased. “Brother Liu, you flatter me,” he said, secretly thinking: My strength may not rival yours, but at least here I have the upper hand.

Seeing that scarred and smug face, Liu Changqing ground his teeth in envy, raising his cup to hide his feelings behind a drink.

Lu Baichuan, ever more delighted by his old friend’s discomfort, couldn’t resist pressing the advantage. “I have three other disciples, and an adopted son. Two of the younger ones have slightly lesser aptitude, but even they’d be considered outstanding among wanderers. My adopted son’s talent rivals Mingzhu’s—exceptional indeed. He’s thirteen and already nearing the late Foundation Establishment stage.”

“Pfft!” Liu Changqing choked on his wine, spraying it all over Lu Baichuan. “Thirteen and nearly at the late Foundation Establishment stage?” That was indeed no less than himself.

Lu Baichuan, unfazed, wiped his face and said, “My second disciple has a rather unique constitution—the Tyrant Body.”

Clatter. Liu Changqing’s wine cup slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor.