Cheers to Victory

“It seems you’re not a monster,” the old man laughed heartily.

The guards clustered around him, each swallowing hard at the tempting aroma. The cakes and dried meats clutched in their hands suddenly seemed tasteless, yet none dared glance away.

A burly man in traveler's garb stepped forward, hands clasped in greeting. “Good sir, we are traveling merchants passing through. Might we exchange a jug of fine wine for some of your roasted meat?”

The pale-faced man did not avert his gaze, but merely chuckled, “If you dare to eat it, then let’s trade.”

Now closer, the burly man could see what exactly was roasting over the fire.

It was a colossal green crab, as large as a millstone. Its six slender legs resembled sickles from the autumn harvest, its two massive pincers like war hammers wielded by fearsome generals—a truly imposing sight.

The group could not help but regard it with awe and surprise.

...

The five travelers sat in a circle. Lu Xun accepted the wine gourd passed to him, uncorked it, and inhaled. It was indeed good wine; the scent alone made his blood surge, even causing the faint internal energy within him to stir coolly.

“Good sir, a jug of medicinal wine for half your crab is a fair trade,” said the old man.

Lu Xun looked to the speaker. The elder wore indigo silk, his beard purple, eyes greenish-blue, a square jaw and broad lips. His brows hung like two sabers, and his eyes were sharp and tiger-like. Even with a kindly smile, a chilling air of authority surrounded him—he seemed born to command.

Three of the guards were well-trained and alert, covering each other as if forming a battle formation.

The short-bearded, broad-shouldered man had a lean face and dark eyes like frosted stars in the night. His hands were powerful, fingers rounded yet strong, and his arms long as an ape’s, nearly reaching his knees.

He moved like a sick tiger and stood like a sleeping eagle—clearly a true martial expert. Lu Xun had seen comparable prowess only in the demon-quelling captain, Gao Qing.

Zhao Jia had only just begun cultivating inner energy; he had the foundation but had yet to realize his full potential.

Traveling merchants? Who would believe that?

But Lu Xun saw no need to expose them. After all, they were no ordinary merchants, but then, he was no ordinary “man,” either.

“You are most capable, sir. A crab of this size should have become a spirit by now. I am Zhu Xianzhen. May I have your name?” The purple-bearded elder took a crab pincer and glanced at the pale-faced man.

“My name is Lu Xun.”

Lu Xun offered a somewhat awkward salute, uncertain if he had done it correctly.

The short-bearded man cupped his fists. “I am Sun Shen.”

The six of them shared the giant crab.

The elder was learned and eloquent, spinning many tales and traditions about eating crab. Lu Xun could only respond vaguely, unable to keep up with the conversation, his speech laced with a local accent, a trace of bravado, and a hint of wildness.

After downing a cup, Zhu Xianzhen asked, “Sir, the southeast is in great need of talent these days. With your abilities, why not join the army?”

“I intend to study at White Deer Academy,” Lu Xun replied.

“I heard the academy holds entrance exams only once every three years, and the time has not yet come,” the old man noted.

Lu Xun explained truthfully, “You may not know, sir, but at Qingquan Temple in Meilan County, the monks were found guilty of seducing respectable women under the pretext of praying for children. The temple was confiscated, leaving vast lands and buildings. The academy plans to open a school there and so is recruiting students early in the county. I saw the official notice myself at the yamen yesterday.”

“So that’s the reason,” the purple-bearded elder stroked his beard and smiled, then asked, “When do the city gates open?”

“Usually between three and five in the morning—at the hour of the Tiger.”

“We’d best set out now—it’s just the right time. Will you join us, sir?”

“No,” Lu Xun declined with a shake of his head.

The elder did not press him further, merely rose to bid farewell, while the three vigilant guards quickly secured the area.

Sun Shen gave Lu Xun a measuring look. “Don’t neglect your fundamentals.”

...

The group returned to camp, packed up, and boarded their carriage.

Sun Shen spoke, “Master Zhu, that man is full of banditry—speaks with a local accent but knows nothing of etiquette, his words disjointed and full of thieves’ slang. I suspect he’s a river pirate from Xunyang.”

“How is his martial skill?” asked Zhu Xianzhen.

“His stance is loose, responses sluggish, and there’s a bright light in his eyes—he’s just begun cultivating inner energy,” Sun Shen replied, shaking his head. “He’s too old and lacks solid basics. He must have stumbled into inner cultivation by luck, skirting the three martial thresholds. He’ll go no further in this life.”

“There are late bloomers in the world,” Zhu Xianzhen chuckled. “Let’s not judge too quickly. He seems eager to learn, so he should not be underestimated.”

“Let’s enter the city.”

Sun Shen was surprised. “Not heading straight to the academy?”

Originally, entering the city wasn’t in the plan; otherwise, they wouldn’t have camped outside.

“Since the academy is recruiting, we can escort the new students to Five Elders Peak,” the purple-bearded elder said, stroking his beard. “I hear the magistrate of Meilan County has a sterling record—first quelling river pirates, then suppressing a monster that robbed the tax silver. He must be a man of great talent.”

...

“What, another monster?!” The county magistrate burst into the main hall in a panic, shoes half-on, and cried, “Quick! Fetch Chief Constable Qian!”

He truly did not want to let Zhao Jia leave, but the transfer order had come from above, and he had no choice but to send him off with the utmost respect. Zhao Jia was now a seventh-rank military officer. Even if he had stayed, the magistrate would have to treat him with proper deference.

A burly, middle-aged man in black official garb entered, his beard unkempt. He saluted with clasped hands, “Qian Xiong greets the magistrate.”

Magistrate Lü immediately ordered Chief Constable Qian, newly transferred from the prefecture, to investigate.

Qian Xiong, who looked to be in his forties or fifties and appeared to be idling his days away, nonetheless found subtle clues upon reaching the alley. He produced a yellow talisman, rolled and lit it, and brought it to his nose.

“There’s a faint trace of monster’s aura from the water—must be a creature with some cultivation.”

“Who’s the witness?”

“I am...” Wang Si was hauled out by the guards.

Qian Xiong took out a small notebook, dipped a brush in river water, and began to question Wang Si while making notes and sketches. Soon, a vivid image of a straw hat appeared on the page.

“That’s exactly it!” Wang Si exclaimed.

Qian Xiong, squatting by the riverbank, asked, “Do you remember the person who fought the straw-hat monster?”

“The straw-hat blocked my view—I couldn’t see clearly. His accent was odd, but strangely familiar. I feel as though I’ve seen him before.”

Wang Si frowned—there was something off about the man’s speech. It sounded local, but with an odd twist. He’d heard it somewhere, but couldn’t place it.

“Oh?” Qian Xiong’s eyes lit up. He produced another yellow talisman and said, “Bring a bowl of water.”

A constable quickly brought clean water.

Qian Xiong burned the talisman, infused the water, and said, “Drink this, and try to recall.”

Strangely, after drinking the talisman water, Wang Si, who had only vague memories before, suddenly exclaimed, “I remember where I’ve seen him!”

...

The next morning.

After searching the woods and finding no other monsters, Lu Xun was about to enter the city when he saw a wanted poster at the gate.

Short hair, long face, regular features, knife-sharp eyes beneath heavy brows.

The likeness was at least eighty percent accurate.

Clearly, it would be unwise to walk the city in his human guise.

Lu Xun immediately shifted into an old black cat and crept closer to inspect.

He saw that only his human appearance had been drawn—his true form as the Five Peaks Mountain Lord had not been identified.

“Meow.”

He said nothing more, only meowed, and slipped into the city.

No one paid any attention to a black cat darting across the rooftops.

He made his way through the city and finally returned to his small courtyard.

Someone was already waiting inside.

Drawing nearer, he saw that it was the elderly steward, dressed in a dark tunic.