Chapter 18: The Ailing Tiger's Past

Chapter 18: The Ailing Tiger’s Past

“What do you mean by that?”

Li Yan rarely spoke of his father Li Hu’s death—there was something undignified about it.

Nicknamed the “Guanzhong Ailing Tiger,” his father had been a notorious womanizer.

This life’s mother had been a simple peasant woman. Under his grandfather’s strict watch, Li Hu had lived a relatively stable life, devoted to martial arts training and the traditional rhythm of farming and weaving.

That was, until the year after Li Yan’s birth.

A devastating drought struck Guanzhong, followed by locust plagues and widespread disease.

That same year, the Maitreya Sect began stirring chaos.

Li Yan’s mother succumbed to illness, leaving the family destitute. With nothing left to lose, Li Hu took up his blade and left home, earning his living through the brutal Jianghu code—killing for coin, gradually building his reputation.

But once unleashed, the tiger could not be caged again.

He became a ruthless killer, leaving a trail of blood and romantic debts.

As a child, Li Yan had witnessed countless furious women storming their home, sobbing and brawling at the doorstep, driving his grandfather to days of brooding silence.

He died one winter night in a Chang’an brothel.

The constables and brothel manager claimed it was a sudden stroke during intimacy. The coroner and grandfather confirmed it.

After that, the grandfather rarely spoke of his son, aging rapidly.

In the past, Li Yan would’ve dismissed Sha Lifei’s words as lies.

But now, knowing the curse’s truth, he suspected the story was far more complex.

As Li Yan’s eyes darkened with murderous intent, his Dragon Eye flashing coldly, Sha Lifei shivered, hastily chuckling, “I heard… well, just rumors, you know… but not long after that brothel incident, something terrible happened there.”

“What happened?”

“Dead girls! Several of them!”

“What does that have to do with my father?”

“You know me—I love gossip. Those girls… well, they were all old flames of your father’s.”

“Go on!”

“Normally, a few dead courtesans wouldn’t raise eyebrows. But back then, the authorities were in a frenzy. Zhou Pan even led his disciples to Chang’an, hunting everywhere.”

“You know how Zhou Pan is—the old monkey never acts without profit. If he’s this eager, there’s foul play!”

“And who benefited most from your father’s death?”

Sha Lifei watched Li Yan’s expression carefully.

Suddenly, he felt a strange lightness. Looking down, he realized Li Yan’s Heartpoint Dagger had silently retracted into his sleeve—without him noticing.

The Sleeve Blade!

Sha Lifei recognized it instantly.

Back in his prime, Li Hu had a Jianghu legend—besides the Guanzhong Quickblade, he’d mastered the Monk’s Embrace technique, hiding a deadly blade within his sleeve.

A smiling face hiding a venomous heart. The Sleeve Blade was no different—silent, lethal.

Li Hu had carved his name with those twin blades, and now his son wielded them even better.

Li Yan sheathed the blade but kept his icy glare. “Uncle Sha, let’s skip the games. If my father’s death was foul play, I’ll owe you one.”

“But don’t think we’re even. Why did you manipulate me?”

“If you don’t explain, this isn’t over!”

Li Yan was called “Troublemaker” in the village for a reason.

Having lived two lives, he scorned empty rituals and rules. He had no patience for games of pretense.

What was Sha Lifei planning?

He’d pry the truth out of him, even if it meant ripping his teeth out.

Meeting Li Yan’s gaze, Sha Lifei’s scalp prickled. Rubbing his bald head awkwardly, he muttered, “Master Yan, you know I’m a man of honor…”

He swallowed the flattery halfway, sighing, “Truth is, I offended one of Zhou Pan’s disciples and had to flee to Xianyang. Knowing your family’s feud with him, I thought—”

“Oh, I see.”

Li Yan nodded, his tone softening. “Uncle Sha, just speak plainly next time. This mess could’ve ended badly.”

“Of course, of course! We’re allies. And about Master Wang’s matter—we’ll handle it tomorrow. But we’ll need to hide our tracks entering the city.”

“Naturally.”

Li Yan smiled, his earlier hostility vanished. He strolled off casually.

Sha Lifei exhaled, drenched in cold sweat. Damn it! This kid’s temper’s like a dog’s—unpredictable and vicious.

Once this was done, he’d keep his distance.

…

Near the Temporary Shelters, Li Yan leaned against a tree in a quiet spot, blade in hand, preparing to sleep.

Summer nights were warm, and he’d left his bedding behind. He’d rest here until finding Master Wang, then leave.

Sha Lifei’s words lingered.

His father’s death wasn’t just cursed misfortune—it reeked of hidden schemes.

Was Zhou Pan involved? Not certain.

But instinct whispered—this stank of Jianghu sorcery!

Whatever came next, he needed to master this path.

Footsteps approached.

Li Yan opened his eyes to see Hei Dan, clutching a water pouch, hesitating to approach.

Li Yan grinned, “What? Did I grow horns?”

Hei Dan was the only villager who’d stood by him, a loyal friend. That day, without hesitation, he’d fought beside him.

Hei Dan scratched his head, handing over the pouch. “Master Yan, have a drink. You were amazing today!”

“It wasn’t skill—it was his arrogance.”

Li Yan’s tone turned serious as he recounted the duel.

Defeating Meng Haicheng in one move wasn’t luck.

He’d known Meng’s Monkey Fist style, baited his pride with taunts, and created the perfect opening.

An experienced elder, Meng would’ve been harder to fell if he’d fought cautiously.

Trusting their bond, Li Yan shared the secrets freely—so Hei Dan could survive if he ever faced Meng.

“Is it really that complicated?” Hei Dan blinked.

“Jianghu’s a nest of vipers. Blades are the least of it. Hidden daggers strike the deepest. You need eyes everywhere.”

But he withheld one truth.

Defeating Meng wasn’t just a show—it forced Sha Lifei’s hand, prying loose the old fox’s secrets.

And his words were sincere.

The real danger wasn’t blades, but the Mystic Gate’s dark arts. Without knowledge, you’d die clueless.

Hei Dan’s face fell. “No wonder Father kept me farming. Jianghu’s not for me…”

His voice trembled. “But I won’t stay here! Teach me!”

Li Yan paused. “Learn a trade first. Wandering needs skills. Otherwise, you’ll end up like me—just another blade for hire.”

“A trade…” Hei Dan nodded. “My uncle’s a leatherworker in Chang’an. If I ask, Father might let me apprentice.”

Hope reigniting, he dashed off.

Li Yan chuckled, closing his eyes.

In his past life, he’d learned car repair to survive.

This life, the blade felt more natural…

…

The night deepened.

The waning moon cast dim shadows.

Snoring and insects filled the wheat field shelters—harvesters slept after days of travel, rising before dawn.

Beyond, Lu Manor stood silent, save for patrolling guards.

Zhao Jiu stifled a yawn, bored.

As expected, they were all Zhao Family disciples.

Once, they’d guarded merchant caravans in Jinzhou—risky but comfortable.

But after a disastrous ambush cost them men and reputation, they’d lost their livelihood.

Saved by a connection, they became Lu Manor’s guards—stable, but dull.

No thieves, no excitement.

Zhao Jiu glanced sideways, suddenly stiffening.

A shadow flickered in the distance.

“Who’s there?!”

He smirked, gripping his vine staff.

Their secret signals identified allies even in darkness.

Jianghu thieves followed rules—throwing a stone first, then a formal challenge. Rarely bloodshed.

Silence meant an amateur.

He’d beat the thief senseless, not kill him.

But at the corner, nothing.

“Eyes playing tricks?”

He turned—only to freeze.

Behind him, a hunched, wrinkled old woman floated inches off the ground, face deathly pale…

A scream shattered the night.

…

Li Yan’s eyes snapped open.

A strange scent—sweet, warm, like pastries—drifted from the distance.

Pastries? Why that thought?

Then he knew.

His Dantian’s Substitute God Statue stirred hungrily, like a cat spotting fish…

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end