Beginning with the Ubume Bird

Chapter 22: Chapter 22 I Can Give You Better

Editor: Larbre Studio

Water, mixed with red, pitter-pattered against the sink as Li Yan wrapped an ice pack around the spot on his right shoulder where Zhang Mingyuan had kicked him; the relief was marginally better than nothing.

“When you dropped your sword, I was really afraid that you’d lose.”

The newcomer, sporting sharp short hair and hands wrapped in bandages, was none other than Zhou, proficient in both Wensheng Fist and Taiji Plum Blossom Mantis.

“You’re not so idle as to watch my match, are you? By the way, who are you fighting next?”

“The four hottest fighters in the ring recently: you, me, Wu Erlang, whom you’ve just defeated, and the last one.”

Li Yan licked his teeth, making sure he had spat out all the blood in his mouth, then turned to look at Zhou.

“Don’t let your guard down.”

Li Yan, with his defiant nature, had rarely respected his peers in the martial arts circle, but he genuinely admired Zhou, who was stubborn, cool on the outside but warm within. Zhou had earned Li Yan’s regard; having followed his organization into turf wars in earlier years, Zhou had gained unparalleled combat experience and even developed his own unique fighting style. Taishuai calling him a genius was a testament to his recognition.

In this era, traditional martial arts might not be able to prop up the signboard of national arts written personally by Sun Yat-sen, yet there were still countless talents in its realm. In Li Yan’s time, a master like Zhou would have been exceedingly rare.

That day, when he refused Lei Jing’s invitation, partly it was because his own life wasn’t long for this world and, on the other hand, seeing the inevitable decline, what did it matter if he was the Hejian Skinny Tiger? It was worth a gamble for riches and honor, but anything more was nothing but wishful thinking. Lei Jing wanted to use him to overpower those old men in the national arts association, but in any case, the association falling into the hands of those who knew nothing about national arts was a foregone conclusion.

Such a mess wasn’t worth Li Yan’s life.

Zhou, uncharacteristically, let a slight smile show: “Heal up. I don’t want to take advantage while you’re down. Your swordsmanship is not bad; I’ll personally see how good it is when the time comes.”

“Then you’ll see something even better,”

Li Yan said, laughing.

Someone knocked on the washroom door.

“An, Shanjiu calls for you. The match is about to begin.”

Zhou nodded: “Got it.”

He turned back around: “There’s something else.”

Li Yan tried to move his right arm, winced in pain and said, “Go ahead.”

“Gongsun Yang and Zhang Yi are far from being great men!”

Zhou, having said his piece without dragging his feet, turned and left.

Li Yan opened his mouth to respond, but seeing Zhou had already gone, he frowned deeply, untied the melted ice pack, and threw it into the trash.

“So much for ‘wealth cannot be pursued through immoral means.’ Can’t he just speak plainly instead of acting like some intellectual?”

This phrase comes from “Mencius”; the rest which is well-known goes “Wealth cannot corrupt them; force cannot bend them; poverty cannot sway them.” He probably knew about Li Yan and Judy’s affair and thought Li Yan was after Judy’s wealth, cozying up to a wealthy woman.

Li Yan found such people to be rather twisted, having mixed with the right society only to turn around and preach to others about avoiding moral corruption for wealth, but he didn’t find them detestable.

The blood on the marble ring had already been wiped clean; the crowd in the stands was noisy, buzzing with discussion.

“Who do you think will win?”

“That guy with the brass knuckles last time was lethal, his movements were unnaturally fast.”

“Right? And look at his opponent, clearly a student, grinning so brightly. Is he acting in a drama for housewives?”

“No, I heard that student’s really vicious when he fights.”

Zhou, this time stepping into the ring, wasn’t wearing his usual pair of iron knuckles but instead was holding a Nine Rings Broadsword, looking even more fierce than Li Yan’s Octahedral Han Sword.

Below the stage, Hua Shanjiu appeared cheerful, speaking to a man beside him who was wearing sunglasses, “Here, Le, this is my top fighter, Zhou. He’s never lost once he steps into the ring, and today will be no different!”

Ruan Hongzhi hurried to catch up with Zhou, following the calm man and urgently saying:

“Hey, Zhou, you’re my protege after all, so don’t say I don’t look out for you. This opponent’s no ordinary guy; in ten matches, his opponents either ended up dead or crippled. Drop that merciful heart of yours and go in hard.”

“I’ve never held back. It’s just not necessary to be ruthlessly thorough.”

Zhou leaped onto the ring, sizing up his opponent with a glance.

An eighteen or nineteen-year-old boy, very handsome, who was now squinting and smiling, with tiger teeth. It was hard to imagine this was the person Ruan Hongzhi described in such an exaggerated tone.

“There’s something I want to say beforehand,”

the handsome youth suddenly spoke up.

Zhou looked at him quizzically.

The youth licked his lips: “Once you’re on the ring, life and death are out of the question.”

Zhou pursed his lips and let out a cold laugh without replying but just bowed his hands in greeting.

“Du Family Fist, Zhou Wei’an.”

The youth returned the gesture with due formality.

“Wing Chun, Xu Tianci.”

…

Li Yan walked into the medical room, where Zhang Mingyuan lay on a makeshift sickbed, swaddled by the ring nurse like a zongzi.

“Wow, you are really tough, still okay after losing so much blood. This wound nearly reached the spine; does it hurt?”

Li Yan coughed dryly at the doorway, drawing the attention of the two.”

“I have something to say to him, could the nurse sister please step out for a moment?”

Li Yan stared with a half-smile at the nurse’s hand resting on Zhang Mingyuan’s thigh.

The nurse suddenly retracted her hand, clumsily wiped her hands on herself a couple of times, and scurried away with small, quick steps.

“The fragment.”

Li Yan reached out his hand.

“You’re really straightforward, aren’t you?”

Zhang Mingyuan gave a wry smile and motioned with his eyes, “It’s in my embrace. My left hand’s cartilage is shattered, and you sliced a forty centimeter long wound on my right hand—don’t be so cruel as to ask me to get it for you myself.”

Li Yan, with a stern face, sat down beside Zhang Mingyuan and reached into his embrace.

“Where?”

“Down more.”

“Nothing here.”

“A little further down.”

Li Yan indeed felt something with the texture of paper, and upon pulling it out, he saw it was a piece of rice paper with embossed golden patterns, depicting a one-legged Kui Niu, its head thrown back in a howl.

“Where’d you get this?”

“Lucky find. Paid two thousand bucks for it at Lixing Daya. Some old Taoist with a drug fit smashed in the skull of an unlucky guy walking through Kowloon City at night, robbed it off him and pawned it. For anything more, you’d have to ask that ghost.”

Zhang Mingyuan looked at Li Yan, “You’ve got two pieces yourself, where’d you get them?”

“Those five fragments were robbed from a bank’s vault by a gang of fierce bandits, and I killed those bandits.”

Upon hearing that, Zhang Mingyuan sharply inhaled. It’s impossible to rob banks in Hong Kong with just a fruit knife. Even someone like him with the Enlightened Beast legacy couldn’t take on several sharpshooters with nothing on the line—he could hardly imagine how Li Yan managed it alone, as he’s supposed to be just a regular person.

“By the way, is this your first time being involved in a Yan Fu event?”

“Second time,” Zhang Mingyuan answered somewhat dejectedly.

“Was it a fatso who brought you in?”

Zhang Mingyuan paused, taken aback.

“No, it was a very beautiful woman who brought me in, someone I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.”

“What rewards do you get after completing a Yan Fu event?”

Li Yan threw another question.

Zhang Mingyuan honestly replied, “After completing a Yan Fu event for the first time, you’re guaranteed to receive one Yan Fu heritage, like my Enlightened Beast.”

At this, a glint of fervor flashed in Zhang Mingyuan’s eyes.

“Unless you’ve owned it, you can’t understand that feeling, that extraordinary power.”

“Cut the crap and get to the point. What’s the use of blabbering so much? If it were useful, I’d be the one lying here, not you.”

The young man’s cheeks flushed from being provoked: “If I hadn’t gone for that Han Sword, the outcome might not have been so certain.”

Li Yan patted Zhang Mingyuan’s shoulder forcefully, his tone menacing, “You’re already bedridden, why give yourself misery, right?”

He lit a cigarette, then asked, “What else? What comes next?”

“After a Yan Fu event is over, all your actions are tallied. The higher the evaluation after the tally, the more Yan Fu points you get and the higher purchasing authority you have.”

“What’s purchasing authority?”

Li Yan knocked on the table, feeling like he was getting to the good stuff.

“It’s related to everything that appears in this Yan Fu event. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

He recalled, “My last Yan Fu event took place in the thirteenth year of the Republic of China, near Phoenix Mountain in Xiangxi, where a corpse outbreak occurred at a charity hall. In the end, the local warlord flattened the entire place with artillery fire! And in the purchasing authority I saw last time, there were terms like Corpse-Driving Skill, and even Purple Zombie, Blood Zombie and such. But my Yan Fu points were far from enough; I couldn’t even afford a White Zombie, not to mention Purple Zombies, which were darkened out, beyond my purchase.”

“What’s the most efficient way to raise my purchasing authority?”

Li Yan probed further, his heartbeat quickening slightly. Suddenly, he remembered the fat man’s sinister smile and his words.

“I can offer you something better.”

“If you ask me, the most efficient method is… killing people!”

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