“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I appreciate your concern,” Su Yuan said, trying to ease the tension. His tone was calm, but a trace of bitterness lingered. “That scoundrel Huang Scarface has been acting like this for years—we’re used to it. But this time, the harvest was just too big. Five taels of silver! Enough to feed the three of us for half a year.”
Su Yuan tried to steady himself, gripping Lin Xia’s hand to comfort her, though his clenched teeth betrayed his frustration. The Su family’s daily food expenses totaled 30 copper coins, with Su Zhe alone accounting for 20, even with the free meal he managed to grab at the blacksmith guild each day.
“Why hasn’t the Canal Guild or the local authorities dealt with scum like Huang Scarface?” Su Zhe frowned, genuinely puzzled.
Lu County was a remote, rugged place, its power structure shaped by the martial guilds tied to the 360 trades. Among these, the Blacksmith Guild reigned supreme, as weapons were essential for all martial artists. The Canal Guild, which oversaw the waterways, and the Wealth Guild, managing commerce, also wielded considerable influence.
Su Zhe recalled a lesson from his time at the private academy. His teacher once said, “The Great Qian Dynasty rules the land with martial strength, divinely ordained to unite the realm. Yet, it governs the Nine Provinces alongside the sects.”
This succinctly captured the Great Qian’s political order. Officially, the dynasty ruled the land, but in reality, local sects and clans held significant, often dominant, sway. Historical attempts by Emperor Taizu of Qian to eradicate the martial sects had led to decades of grueling conflict, dragging the empire into a quagmire. In the end, the sects and the court agreed to a tenuous power-sharing arrangement.
In Lu County, the Canal Guild operated fishing markets known as “fish corrals,” where fishermen could trade their catch—after paying taxes to the guild. On top of this, commoners faced head taxes, seasonal levies, and other duties imposed by the government. Local bullies like Huang Scarface were just petty criminals preying on the vulnerable, their actions too trivial to attract meaningful intervention.
Su Zhe’s confusion deepened. Shouldn’t the guilds or the authorities clean up such pests?
“Naïve boy,” Su Yuan sighed, shaking his head. “The Canal Guild profits from running the fish corrals. We benefit too—it’s convenient, but they don’t owe us protection. And as for the government…” His voice trailed into a bitter laugh. “Unless someone dies, or we offer a bribe of ten taels, the constables won’t even leave the yamen.”
Su Yuan’s lamentation turned poetic:
‘The poor can’t knock on the yamen’s locked doors;
The lowly have no place in court halls.’
Su Zhe fell silent, the harsh logic settling heavily in his chest. It made grim sense. The Blacksmith Guild didn’t rush to aid miners robbed en route to trade iron ore. Why would the authorities be any different? In Lu County, the government had long ceded practical power to the guilds.
“Don’t brood over it,” Su Yuan said, fearing his nephew might act rashly. “We’ve gained unexpected wealth, but that always comes with trouble. You’re young and full of fire, but keep your head. When you’re a full-fledged martial artist, I’ll have less to worry about.”
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“I understand, Uncle,” Su Zhe replied solemnly. “Money is insignificant compared to your safety. If something like this happens again, prioritize your life over silver. Once I’m strong enough, I’ll make them pay.”
“Good lad,” Su Yuan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Even thieves have rules. Scarface won’t fixate on us alone.”
Su Zhe said nothing, though doubt lingered in his mind. Do thieves truly follow rules? If they do, why be thieves at all?
That evening, Su Yuan brought out a bolt of fine fabric he had purchased, coaxing Lin Xia to make Su Zhe a new set of clothes. Her mood, soured by the lost silver, eased slightly as she took Su Zhe’s measurements.
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Two Days Later: The Blacksmith Guild’s Ritual
"Three parts training, seven parts nourishment"—the saying proved true. Thanks to a steady diet of crocodile dragon meat, Su Zhe’s vitality surged. Combined with his mastery of the Wild Ox Hammer Technique at the foundational level, he swiftly advanced in his training, achieving a sixfold conversion of blood essence to qi—a hallmark of a first-rank mid-tier martial artist.
Today marked the Guild's Bone Testing and Transmission ceremony, a momentous occasion.
At dawn, the guild's top-tier apprentices gathered at the martial training grounds. Su Zhe stood among over a hundred peers, all brimming with nervous excitement. Each master in charge of the apprentices had brought their finest students for the ritual.
The ceremony was held within the Martial Hall, located in the guild's inner sanctum—a place forbidden to the outer sect apprentices on pain of crippling punishment. For many, it was their first glimpse of the guild’s core.
The hall's imposing scarlet gates, studded with bronze nails, radiated authority. Above them, a plaque bore the gilded words Martial Hall in a bold, vigorous script that seemed to emanate the very essence of martial strength.
“Jade-green stone,” someone whispered, marveling at the stone slabs lining the path. “They say it stays cool in summer, warm in winter. A piece the size of a fist costs two silver coins! And the entire path is paved with it!”
“Three years of sweat and toil. Today, I must enter the inner sect!”
“If only I could become a personal disciple of one of the Three Titans…”
“Dream on! With your face, you’d be lucky to make the inner sect, let alone catch their eye.”
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The apprentices’ whispered hopes and banter filled the air. Su Zhe listened intently, piecing together details.
The guild’s leadership, known as the Three Titans, consisted of:
* Yang Dingtian, the Guild Master, who presided over all matters.
* Wang Shan, head of the Breaker Hall, responsible for combat and defense.
* Sun Tiexin, head of the Craft Hall, overseeing the forging of weapons and tools.
The Titans' presence at the ceremony was a rare and significant event. Should an apprentice possess extraordinary talent—classified as "Grade A"—the Titans might accept them as personal disciples, granting unparalleled status within the guild. Such disciples ranked above ordinary inner sect members and wielded authority rivaling that of the elders.
“Grade B aptitude is enough to enter the inner sect and become a disciple under a guild elder,” Su Zhe mused. “But only Grade A could earn the Titans’ favor directly…”
Even Su Zhe, usually calm and composed, felt his pulse quicken. Resources meant survival and progress in this harsh world. His recent leap in strength owed much to the crocodile dragon meat, but he knew such fortuitous bounties were rare.
Without access to resources, even the finest talents would struggle, he thought, his gaze fixed on the hall’s entrance. If I’m to unlock the second aperture of the Celestial Cauldron, I must ascend the guild’s ranks.
The doors creaked open, and three figures emerged from the inner sanctum. Su Zhe clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing.
Do I have what it takes to stand among the Titans’ disciples?