Chapter Forty-Nine: The First Chapter After Publication

The rear courtyard of the Huang family.

Steward Huang settled the group of young children, then selected a pair—a boy and a girl—and headed toward the room where the master was cultivating.

A bronze cauldron stood in the center, beneath it a fire pit filled with dry wood and charcoal simmering gently. One by one, medicinal ingredients were tossed in, filling the room with a thick, pungent aroma.

Master Huang, in his forties, was slightly overweight. His beady, greenish eyes shone with a lewd and sinister glint. Two wispy mustaches framed his mouth, and his wrinkled skin made him look particularly unsettling. Especially his hands, shriveled and covered with coarse hair, exuded a foul, acrid stench.

The cauldron bubbled and hissed, its contents a murky green. Controlling the heat with an iron fan, Master Huang saw Steward Huang bringing the offerings and hurriedly barked, “Move faster, or this batch of pills will be ruined!”

“Yes, Master.” Steward Huang quickly placed the offerings on the cold iron bed, shackled their hands and feet, covered their mouths, and picked up a blood-stained long knife.

Blood splattered everywhere in the room; the iron bed was stained with dried, blackened gore, and a severed finger lay forgotten in a corner. On a nearby shelf, several clay jars held decomposing organs.

After half a stick of incense’s time, Master Huang tossed two hearts into the bronze cauldron, then kidneys, then liver...

The medicinal fragrance in the room grew even more intense.

After leaving his home, Su Yang went to the Zhang family, as he had promised Zhang Qingpoetry the day before. Due to propriety between men and women, he naturally said he was visiting Zhang Ji.

Upon seeing Su Yang, Zhang Ji was especially delighted. With a brother-in-law of eighth-rank strength to rely on, he was naturally pleased. Zhang Qingpoetry followed the scent, and upon seeing Su Yang from afar, could hardly restrain her excitement and joy.

The Zhangs’ courtyard was modest. The family patriarch had died young, and Zhang Ji, lacking ambition, relied entirely on Zhang Qingpoetry, a ninth-rank martial artist. Thanks to the support of the White Ape Martial Hall, the Zhang family had managed to avoid disaster in these troubled times.

The White Ape Martial Hall was a top institution in Yanggu County, producing countless martial artists. Zhang Ji trained there, but his aptitude was lacking and he had yet to reach ninth rank. Zhang Qingpoetry’s ascension to ninth rank in a single day had attracted the Hall’s master, who came personally to take her as a disciple.

Though Zhang Qingpoetry declined, the Hall’s master remained eager, declaring that with just a word from her, she could become his direct disciple. During festivals, disciples would deliver old medicinal herbs to the Zhang family, showing the master’s eagerness to accept her.

The master of White Ape Martial Hall was a sixth-rank martial artist; with her protection, the Zhangs could firmly establish themselves in Yanggu County.

“Brother Su, I have some business outside, so I’ll take my leave.” Zhang Ji found an excuse and slipped away, leaving only Zhang Qingpoetry, Su Yang, and her personal maid in the room.

Today, Zhang Qingpoetry wore white, her figure graceful and slender, her face cool and serene like a celestial maiden from the moon palace. Her feet were clad in white embroidered cloth shoes, perfectly wrapping her flawless jade toes.

Her delicate bosom rose gently, and her eyes, full of longing, fixed on Su Yang.

“Miss Qingpoetry, you grow more beautiful by the day,” Su Yang said with a gentle smile.

“You flatter me, Young Master Su,” Zhang Qingpoetry’s heart melted like honey. Though others often praised her looks, she took no pleasure in their words, finding them tiresome and preferring not to associate with the vulgar.

But Su Yang’s casual compliment filled her with joy. She looked Su Yang up and down, saying, “Young Master Su, did you stay up late studying again last night? Your complexion seems a bit poor.”

She pointed to the area around her own eyes.

“Oh, yes… I was studying late. The sea of learning is boundless, hard work is the boat; losing sleep is nothing,” Su Yang replied, lying without a hint of embarrassment.

“Qingshi, go to my room and pick out some old medicinal herbs. Boil them for Young Master Su to replenish his strength,” Zhang Qingpoetry said. Her maid promptly left to carry out the order. “These old herbs were sent by the White Ape Martial Hall. You know my ambitions lie elsewhere, so I’ve never used them.”

“When you leave, take those old herbs with you as well…”

Time passed quickly.

Su Yang drank the old medicine, composed poems and couplets, and spoke ancient verses with ease, drawing even greater admiration from Zhang Qingpoetry. Were it not broad daylight, she would surely have entrusted herself to him.

In Zhang Qingpoetry’s heart, her man must be dignified, elegant as a jade tree, unmatched in poetic talent—qualities Su Yang possessed perfectly.

Most importantly, Su Yang was gifted in both civil and martial arts.

With five thousand years of heritage, in his past life he was part of the elite, standing on the shoulders of giants. Zhang Qingpoetry admired him, but even more, she revered the depth of five millennia.

“Young Master Su, if you attend the provincial exams, you will surely succeed. It’s a shame that war has engulfed Yanggu County, wasting your talent,” Zhang Qingpoetry nestled in Su Yang’s arms, her voice tinged with regret.

“War will end eventually. Whether Great Qian changes its dynastic name or not, scholars will always be needed to govern the country.”

“Then I wish you, Young Master Su, to attain the highest official rank.”

“If I achieve the highest rank, you, Miss Qingpoetry, will surely be granted a noble title as well.”

“Oh… what nonsense…”

Zhang Qingpoetry’s cheeks flushed red, and she quickly lowered her head in shy silence, as bashful as a bride on her wedding night.

Su Yang had his own plans for the imperial examinations and officialdom. Yet, he had no desire to be a capital official or hold a high post. He simply wished to become a county magistrate or prefect—claim a territory, raise children, and ensure the family’s prosperity for generations.

A century later, his descendants could serve in important positions at court—a fine choice.

When his strength was sufficient, he could overturn the dynasty single-handedly and rename the country after the Su family. That, too, would be ideal.

With immortality, his power would only grow. From then on, the nation would never change dynasties again.

“In a few days, I’ll send a matchmaker to propose marriage. Would you be willing?” Su Yang, feeling the softness in his arms, asked.

“You must take responsibility for treating me so,” Zhang Qingpoetry replied, blushing deeply as she looked at his hand wandering over her body.

“Though I shoulder two households, the Wang family is a bit crowded. The house next door seems to be struggling in this chaotic world. That house is quite good—larger than the Wang’s.”

“In a few days, I’ll spend some grain to buy it, then bring you home. I promise you’ll never be wronged,” Su Yang said, holding Zhang Qingpoetry close, his tone full of affection.

With her first-class aptitude, she could bear talented offspring, and she treated him so well—boiling medicinal herbs at his slightest request, even letting him take some home with him.

Where could he find such a treasure of a girl?

Thus, Su Yang cherished Zhang Qingpoetry dearly. If they held the wedding at the Wang family, and Wang Chunxiao, that madwoman, caused a scene, wouldn’t Qingpoetry be wronged?

Some matters needed careful planning.

“There’s no need to spend so much.”

“Grain is scarce in Yanggu County now. The rebels could retreat at any time, or the county might be breached. It’s always wise to keep some grain on hand.”

“Besides, it’s only a matter of sharing a bed. One house is enough; what’s the need for such a large courtyard?” Zhang Qingpoetry reasoned sensibly. “There are still some maids in the Wang family. They need food and clothes—I don’t want you to be like some martial artists, scheming and fighting over grain outside.”