Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

But Chen Cheng had already withdrawn his hand.

"Mom, just take it. Groceries and supplies in the Inner City don’t come cheap."

"Meat is the most important thing. Since the heavy snows sealed off the mountains, the amount of beast meat the Jiuan Hunting Manor sends me has decreased by twenty percent. You should buy more venison from now on. I can’t reduce my meat consumption."

Chen Cheng paused before adding,

"And those medicinal stews Lady Sun taught you to make—I quite like them. You can make them more often."

His mother had initially tried to refuse, but hearing him say that, she nodded in agreement.

"...Alright. I’ll do as you say."

’At this standard of living, it would be impossible to get by without a good amount of silver taels on hand.’

’No wonder they say scholars are poor and warriors are rich.’

’What ordinary family could possibly afford such expenses?’

’And that was just for food. The other expenses were even greater. The mere thought of it made her heart pound and her throat go dry.’

’It was a good thing her son was so successful now, with his own means of earning money.’

’For anyone else, the lack of money alone would mean their martial arts journey wouldn’t get far. In fact, it would be a struggle to take even a single step.’

His mother hadn’t understood these things before; it was Lady Sun who had explained it all to her.

Whenever the topic came up, Lady Sun would shower Chen Cheng with praise, telling his mother how she envied her for having such a fine son.

And every time his mother heard this, her eyes would inevitably well up with gratification, along with a deep sense of shared honor, pride, and achievement.

...

「South Outer City, Funan District.」

The sky was pitch-black. A howling night wind sent flurries of heavy snow tumbling from the heavens.

The snow fell thick and fast, rustling against the eaves and already blanketing the ground in a deep layer.

Over the past month, the remnants of the Red Moon Nunnery had become increasingly rampant. In the major districts of the South Outer City, grisly murders were an almost daily occurrence.

Usually, after nightfall, you couldn’t see a single soul on the streets. Every house was locked up tight, not even daring to hang a lantern.

But tonight, a carriage pressed on against the wind and snow.

The carriage was painted black all over, with no lanterns and no markings. There was only the muffled sound of hooves treading on the snow and the crunch of wheels rolling over it.

The carriage traversed the empty, grim streets, finally stopping before the Fuchang Trading Company.

Two figures got out of the carriage one after another.

They knocked on the door and quickly entered the trading company.

Guided by a doorman, the two passed through a side gallery to the private courtyard where Fu Yunchen, the Master of the trading company, resided. From there, they entered the main reception hall.

As they stepped into the brightly lit hall, the two men took off their heavy cloaks and handed them to the doorman.

"Brother Han! Worthy nephew!"

Just then, a warm voice with a hint of sycophancy came from the back of the hall.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Han Chuo and Han Tianqi immediately looked over.

A middle-aged man with a drooping mustache emerged, following the sound of his own voice.

He straightened his lapels as he walked, his collar askew and his sash not tied properly.

Halfway there, the doorman approached and whispered something. The man quickly raised a hand to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his cheek.

"Brother Fu."

Han Chuo nodded slightly, his expression serious.

"My son and I have arrived unannounced late at night. I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Brother Fu."

Fu Yunchen’s expression faltered for a moment.

He glanced at the expressions on the faces of the father and son, mulled over the tone of Han Chuo’s voice, and the slick, frivolous glint in his eyes vanished instantly. His own expression turned serious as he spoke.

"...Brother Han... Sit! Sit and talk!"

Han Chuo sat down, then gave Han Tianqi a look. The latter understood and also sat down.

The lamplight in the hall danced, casting their flickering shadows upon the walls.

When Han Chuo remained silent after taking a seat, Fu Yunchen immediately understood the unspoken request. "Everyone, leave us," he ordered in a low voice. The servants waiting outside and behind the hall all withdrew. Han Chuo still did not speak, listening intently until the last footstep had faded away. Only then did he slowly reveal his purpose.

"I need someone killed. However, it’s not convenient for me to act personally right now. I was hoping to borrow a Dark Saber from you, Brother Fu."

"That... that could be problematic..."

Fu Yunchen said, his brow tightly furrowed.

"After that business with Song Zhuo, it took everything I had to distance myself... I still haven’t given the leader of Grass Head Mountain a proper explanation... Hiring their people again will be... difficult!"

"This matter is not urgent,"

Han Chuo said.

"The person I want killed is at the center of attention right now, making them a conspicuous target. It wouldn’t be a problem to wait a month or so before making a move."

"...If that’s the case, perhaps I can give it a try."

After some thought, Fu Yunchen tentatively agreed, though he was careful not to make any firm promises.

Han Chuo nodded, not pressing him too hard.

Instead, he said in a low voice,

"Brother Fu, my son and I came here tonight for another, more important matter..."

"Please, speak."

Fu Yunchen’s gaze sharpened, and he listened with rapt attention.

...

「On the main street outside the trading company.」

Lin Fengxiao, clad in armor with a saber at his hip, was leading a squad of Armored Warriors from the Captain’s Mansion on patrol.

The night wind, carrying grains of snow, blew into their faces, stinging their skin.

The street was empty, and the snow was already past their ankles, crunching underfoot.

The two Armored Warriors at the front each carried a halberd in one hand and a lantern in the other.

The lanterns swayed in the wind, their halos of light flickering, barely illuminating the path ahead.

The two Armored Warriors following closely behind both carried longbows on their backs, with a signal arrow in each of their quivers.

This special type of arrowhead, when fired into the sky, would emit a sharp whistle, allowing allied forces to pinpoint their location and converge immediately in an emergency.

With the end of the year approaching, the higher-ups didn’t want things in the Outer City to get too out of hand.

That was why the Captain’s Mansion had been sending out patrols every night.

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