Chapter Thirty-Four: Words as Sharp as Fists

Kou Li swept his gaze around and immediately noticed that there were seven people seated in the room. Aside from the eldest senior brother, the entire household of the Burning Body Martial Hall was present.

Seated in the master’s chair was a man who appeared to be around forty years old, with the refined features of a scholar. His face was square and his jaw broad, clean-shaven, with large, jade-like hands. A pair of phoenix-like eyes shone with a subtle brilliance.

So this was Master Lin Xianshi, the head of Burning Body Martial Hall, renowned grandmaster of Southern Fist?

During his days at the martial hall, Kou Li had heard so much about Lin Xianshi’s status and reputation that his ears had grown calloused.

He had founded the Burning Body Martial Hall, and in just twenty years, it had become as famous as the Five Elephants Hall and the Che Family Fist. In the martial world, he was known as the Hundred-Hands Master, a great Southern Fist Grandmaster, with an impressive reputation. The imperial “Martial Knowledge Record” listed one hundred and six of the most renowned fist styles, and the master was adept at fifteen of them.

He was known for righteous deeds in the martial world. After reaching middle age, he shunned glory and riches, choosing to live simply and teach martial arts in the poor district of Guanchao. Anyone who heard his story would give a heartfelt thumbs-up.

Was such a formidable figure in the martial world truly this harmless-looking, gentle middle-aged man before him?

“Master, this is the eighth junior brother, Kou Li. He’s quite the scholar,” Luo Yanzong stepped forward to introduce him.

“Master Lin,” Kou Li, unsure of how he would be received, offered a modest bow and said no more.

“So, you’re the eighth,” Lin Xianshi gave Kou Li a few appraising glances and said warmly, “Not bad. The Tiger Fist has become second nature to you, and your movements have taken on the form of the tiger. No wonder you could execute the Tiger Strike.”

“Master—” Lu Zhixiong’s expression changed and he was about to speak, but his master stopped him.

“Sit down first. You haven’t been with us long, and perhaps you don’t know my ways. In this hall, there aren’t so many rules as you might think. Just look at Jiang Yazi, he’s like a wild monkey,” Lin Xianshi scolded with a laugh.

“Hehe, Master’s right. I’m a monkey spirit through and through.”

“Eighth, sit down. Master doesn’t stand on ceremony.”

Seeing this, Kou Li nodded and took a seat. Taking advantage of the moment, he glanced around the room. He recognized Yue Black Bear and Luo Dunzi, whom he often saw. The red-faced man he had met once before—Fifth Brother Zhai Guan, who worked for the local authorities.

As for Lu Zhixiong, the head of the Xu clan, his eyes burned with anger, as if he wanted to devour Kou Li on the spot.

The boy perched on a chair, thin and dark as a monkey, with large rolling eyes, must be Jiang Yazi, the former youngest, now the seventh senior brother.

Standing in the corner, eyes closed and leaning against the wall, was the enigmatic Mo Yi, whom Kou Li had met once before. Of all present, Mo Yi was the most distinguished in appearance—his stern features and upright posture gave him the air of a young nobleman. It seemed a waste for someone so well-formed to practice martial arts; he would be perfectly suited to sit as a courtesan in a pleasure house.

As Kou Li observed others, they in turn observed him. For most, this was their first meeting. His features were refined, his manner bookish—a scholar through and through. Only his eyes seemed out of place, not unpleasant, but piercing and cold, with an eagle’s sharpness.

“Junior Kou, do you remember what you have done?” Lu Zhixiong enunciated each word. As the head of the Dragon household and one of the hall’s top disciples, he had arranged for more than a dozen of his kin to join, yet now so many were crippled or ruined. It was as if someone had stripped the flesh from his face with a knife.

If not for Kou Li’s status as Lin Xianshi’s disciple, he would have already arranged for someone to deal with him, perhaps even drown him in the river. He swore that if Kou Li were expelled from the hall, he would see him dead.

“If you’re referring to my disciplining of the apprentices, teaching them the rules, then yes, I remember.”

“That’s nonsense! Some of my brothers can barely walk now. Is that what you call discipline? What did they ever do to you? Who are you to presume to teach anyone here?”

“Enough, Sixth. Don’t let your temper get the better of you,” Lin Xianshi’s tone grew more serious. “Kou Li, or should I call you Eighth, shouldn’t you give me an explanation?”

Kou Li nodded. “Senior Lu says his brothers can’t walk. As it happens, Zheng Xiaobao is also bedridden and unconscious. If Senior Lu claims I have no right to discipline the apprentices, then I must ask you, Master Lin: I was accepted as a disciple on Senior Luo’s recommendation. Does the master acknowledge me as one of his own?”

Lin Xianshi was momentarily taken aback, his eyes lowering. “You were recommended by Old Iron Zheng, to whom I owe a great debt. I would not refuse a disciple he sends.”

“Since I am the eighth disciple, and my seniors were all absent when Xiaobao was grievously injured, was it not my duty as a senior to act? Am I not allowed to uphold the reputation of the Burning Body Hall?”

“You crippled—” Lu Zhixiong’s eyes widened, about to retort.

“If you refuse to recognize me, you deny the hall’s very name. To resist is to defy your master and ancestors. If that’s the case, what does it matter if I cripple such a person? Sending people away, offering gifts, acting so quickly—what, are you afraid the hall can’t handle things fairly, or are you, as clan head, more concerned with protecting your own?”

“Are they hall apprentices, or just your personal enforcers?”

At these words, half the people present changed their expressions, especially Yue Wu Huo, the chief instructor. If things were as Kou Li said, then Lu Zhixiong’s actions were a direct challenge to his authority.

“Master, that’s slander! I was with you the whole time—how could I have orchestrated anything? Someone from the clan must have meant well but acted wrongly,” Lu Zhixiong replied quickly, recognizing the trap.

So, there had indeed been some maneuvering. Kou Li pressed on without pause. “Since that’s so, if Senior Lu thinks I handled things poorly, why not bring back the main perpetrator, Lu Tiansheng, from Chejia Valley, and let our master judge the matter? As the clan head, surely this is within your power?”

Luo Yanzong glanced at Kou Li in surprise. He hadn’t expected this usually quiet eighth brother to be so sharp-tongued, each word a lethal strike, cornering Lu Zhixiong completely.

If he brought the culprit back, even if the master did nothing, he’d lose face before the clan. If he didn’t, it would be proof of his partiality, showing he put family above the hall.

This was the very essence of the Tiger Fist—relentless, powerful, leaving the opponent no room to dodge.

Each word a blow, each phrase a strike—an unbroken chain of attacks!

Lu Zhixiong was about to change his approach when, surprisingly, Mo Yi, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “That’s a good suggestion.”

The others were taken aback. Mo Yi had always been detached, but here he was, siding with Kou Li. Had they even met before?

“I agree with Eighth,” Luo Yanzong added, his expression calm, his thoughts unreadable.

Lin Xianshi pondered for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea. While not one of my direct disciples, Lu Tiansheng is still an apprentice of the hall. Leaving for Chejia Valley is questionable. What do you think, Sixth?”

Lu Zhixiong’s expression darkened. With the eldest and third brothers both voicing their agreement, and with Yue Wu Huo unlikely to oppose, even Zhai Guan, who looked as if he wanted to speak, held his tongue. As for the other two, one was always looking for trouble, and the other as dull as a block of wood—neither could be counted on.

“Master, Lu Tiansheng is kin to the previous head. I owe him a great debt—I really can’t do this,” Lu Zhixiong said, gritting his teeth at Kou Li. “You’ve already crippled him. What more do you want?”

“So you think I would be unfair in my judgment?” Lin Xianshi’s tone remained gentle, though his gaze grew stern.

“No, Master, I’ll try, I’ll try,” Lu Zhixiong replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Kou Li watched coldly as the other man squirmed, knowing this matter was now closed. If Lu Zhixiong was willing to sacrifice himself to protect Lu Tiansheng, it meant the latter had powerful backing.

The present official was never as useful as the current one, especially if the one in question was a retired elder. Exiling him was already merciful—what debt could there really be?

Men like Lu Zhixiong, in both face and manner, were never the so-called “good old men.” Could a good old man rise to lead the Xu clan? Would a good old man risk offending his brothers for the sake of an old debt?

Given all this, Black-Faced Xiong would never turn over his kin.

Without the culprit, the case would remain unresolved—a matter without an end, which was, in fact, the result Kou Li wanted.

The real trouble Kou Li sought to resolve was not this matter. So, before anyone else could speak, he took the initiative. “On the subject of martial arts, I would also like to make a report to Master and my senior brothers.”