Chapter 4: Becoming an Apprentice

Xiaoxiangzi swept his sleeves and left, clearly having no intention of taking on a disciple. Zhang Lei sighed helplessly. “To survive in this world, you must become strong. Only with enough power can you avoid being trampled by others.” His words drifted away on the wind as he rode off into the distance.

Everyone understands the law of the jungle—if Zhang Lei hadn’t saved me, I would have become dinner for a wild beast. Now, I don’t know where to go. Ever since I arrived in this strange world, I’ve felt profoundly alone. I decided to seek out the old man in the bamboo grove. Regardless of his identity, I was determined to become his apprentice.

Guided by memory, I retraced my steps, but every time I thought I’d reached the place from before, the bamboo hut was nowhere to be found. After circling the area three times in vain, I finally stopped in front of the bamboo forest, feeling a bit dejected.

“How could this be?” I chuckled bitterly.

The leaves rustled softly in the breeze. Shaking my head, I prepared to leave. At that moment, a deep, resonant voice drifted to my ears from behind me. “Young man, are you looking for me?”

I nodded in delight. “Sir, I wish to become your disciple.”

“Oh? So you’ve made up your mind?” The old man appeared out of thin air in the clearing before me.

“Young man, come inside and sit,” he said, seeing me frozen in place. I nodded and followed him into the house. His sudden appearance had startled me, but it seemed I’d chosen my master well—he must be extraordinary.

Inside, the furnishings were simple as before: a modest table, a few bamboo chairs, and a man dressed in ancient garb, tending to wine and tea by the courtyard furniture.

The old man introduced himself as Leng Qing, a mute. He told me that he’d originally lived here alone until he had saved Leng Qing by chance. One day, hearing a commotion outside his hut, he found a high-level beast attacking Leng Qing and rescued him. With nowhere else to go, Leng Qing had stayed on to take care of household matters.

In our conversation, I found the old man to be eloquent, yet his words carried a sense of deep melancholy. Suddenly, I recalled how the hut had appeared so mysteriously. The old man explained that it was the work of a Bagua Formation—ordinary people could not enter. The patterns of the eight trigrams were ever-changing; the formation he’d laid was none other than the innate Bagua.

“The last time you managed to walk inside, it truly surprised me. That’s why I wanted to take you as a disciple,” he said, sipping his tea.

What he didn’t know was that I’d entered purely by accident—I knew nothing about the Bagua. I immediately knelt. “My name is Li Yunfei. I pay my respects, Master.”

Master squinted and smiled. “You won’t learn much from me, you know.”

“Once a teacher, always a teacher. Yunfei will never complain,” I replied with cupped fists.

Master gave me a brief introduction to the surrounding towns and their characteristics: To the north lay the Cangxi Empire, a mighty nation with a population in the millions. The south, where we were, was a civilian area—mostly ordinary people with no martial skills, though there were a few strong individuals. The northwest was the domain of wild beasts, perilous and forbidding. To the east lay the World Trade Alliance, a great confederation that controlled the economy of the continent.

After listening to Master’s explanations, I gained a basic understanding of this world. When I inquired about Xiaoxiangzi, a fleeting chill flashed through Master’s eyes, vanishing in an instant. He claimed not to know him, but I sensed there was some unresolved conflict between the two.

Master then taught me some basic martial arts techniques. He explained that the Divine-Demon Continent was once peaceful, but after the appearance of wild beasts, people began to study various martial arts and cultivation methods. Gradually, countless sects sprang up, and martial arts techniques became myriad. Warriors were the most numerous group in this world, followed by demon cultivators—specialists in long-range combat. Due to their lesser abilities compared to warriors, most people chose the path of the warrior. The only true measure of strength was true energy, a vital force naturally formed within both warriors and demon cultivators. It formed the foundation of all cultivation skills, divided into nine levels—each extremely difficult to attain. Warriors with powerful true energy could shake mountains and rivers and fight hundreds alone.

As night fell, Master said he would take me out for a walk. I was exhausted—where could we possibly go so late?

“Master, where are we going at this hour?”

“Just follow me,” he replied, not looking back. Master was certainly an odd one. The mountain woods were dense, and the moonlight could not penetrate the thick canopy. I stumbled after him, treading unevenly.

We reached a broad clearing where Master raised his right hand, signaling me to stop. As I opened my mouth to speak, Master covered it with his hand and motioned for me to hide behind a large tree. There he stood, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of unrivaled confidence, as if he alone stood above all beneath the heavens.

The forest wind quietly brushed my face, and sleepiness crept upon me. Just as I was about to doze off, a sudden gale roared, forcing my eyes shut. The wind passed as swiftly as it had come. When I looked again, I nearly fainted from fright—a massive, blood-red python was coiled before Master, its girth exceeding five meters, a single horn sprouting from its head.

I had read of such beasts in books but never imagined I would see one in the flesh—excitement mingled with fear. Fortunately, Master was present; I hoped he could handle it. According to legend, a python cultivates for a thousand years to transform into a flood dragon, and after another thousand, into a true dragon. Judging by the faintly visible limbs on its belly, this creature was on the verge of becoming a dragon.

Master remained motionless, while the flood dragon fixed him with eyes like bronze bells. The two faced off in silence. Suddenly, Master attacked—leaping into the air, he shifted sideways and kicked the flood dragon square on the head. The beast lost its balance, its colossal head crashing down right beside the tree where I was hiding.

Stunned by this turn of events, I realized the flood dragon had now spotted me. If it attacked, not even Master could save me. Strangely, the dragon seemed uninterested in me, shaking its head and turning its attention back to Master. Several meters apart, the beast suddenly accelerated, shooting forward like an arrow. Master stood his ground. I held my breath, fearing for him.

But the expected collision never happened; instead, Master’s figure dissolved into a fading afterimage. Such speed! I hadn’t realized Master was so formidable. As I marveled, a thunderous crash rang out—Master was sent flying.

It turned out that after failing to strike with its charge, the flood dragon whipped Master away with its tail. Thus, man and beast battled for nearly an hour, neither gaining the upper hand. Suddenly, Master somersaulted to my side and addressed the flood dragon. “Enough for today. It seems you’re about to transform into a dragon. I concede.”

Incredulous, I glanced at Master, and then at the flood dragon. Remarkably, it seemed to understand his words—it nodded at him and burrowed into the earth. Strangely, the ground remained undisturbed. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed that moments earlier, an old man and a flood dragon had been locked in mortal combat.

Master told me that he and the flood dragon were old acquaintances. Though unable to speak, the dragon’s intelligence far surpassed that of ordinary people. At last, I had witnessed my master’s true strength—certainly, I had chosen the right teacher. After such an eventful day, exhaustion overwhelmed me. Once we returned, I washed up quickly and fell into a deep sleep.