Li Yongyigazed at his chest, where the Crimson Wyrm's head, diminutive and nascent, flickered vividly in his perception despite its intangible form. Provoked by the White Tiger Manifestation's earlier pressure, the Wyrm's wrath flared, its juvenile maw issuing tender roars, like a fierce yet unweaned cub snarling at its master.
His fingers brushed the Wyrm, its head and neck partially freed from the Cauldron of Ancients, the rest still etched upon its walls, writhing in instinctual fury. A translucent claw gripped his finger, and as he stroked it, a subtle essence seeped into him, quickening the flow from Song of Breanking Formation's qi. Even the poison stifling his qi showed signs of yielding.
A spark of astonishment and joy lit his eyes. Could this Crimson Wyrm, bestowed by Yue Qingfeng, unravel the poison's grip on his inner flow?
The coachman, noting his pause, turned back. "Something amiss, Mr. Li?" Li Yongyi masked his thoughts, smiling. "Merely lamenting the distant path to Ascension." His fingers teased the Wyrm's claw—flick, flick!—marveling at its firm grasp. A tangible spirit, yet fluid as will. What realms did Yue Qingfeng and Elder Xue inhabit?
The coachman chuckled. "Thinking so far ahead? At thirteen, with martial prowess already yours, Ascension is no barrier. Come, learn the grounds! Here's the training yard—stone weights, heavy blades, all yours to wield. There's the dining hall, ever stocked; the apothecary, brimming with herbs at cost for Xue'kin, though selling outward brings harsh penalty."
The Xue estate sprawled vast. Li Yongyi toured its halls, memorizing each. At the tailor's, he donned new garb while the coachman savored salt-roasted peanuts, a rare luxury. Women's laughter erupted within, startling the coachman—never had the tailors been so merry.
Emerging, Li Yongyi wore ink-black boots and a sleek blue-collared robe, its cuffs and collar edged in white, a leather belt cinching his waist with martial vigor. His hair neatly bound, his features refined, he exuded quiet grace. The tailors, clapping, adorned him with a modest jade amulet. "This amulet, worth less than a silver, gleams like a hundred on you," they teased, gifting it freely.
The coachman gaped. "They never give gifts! Mr. Li, what sorcery is this?" Li Yongyi shrugged. "I merely called them 'sister.'" The coachman fell silent, his peanuts suddenly tasteless.
At the steward's office, Li signed his contract: thirty strings monthly, 25kg of grain, 10kg of meat, two sets of clothes, and meals provided. One hour daily tutoring lady and young master sufficed. Pleased, he bought herbs, rented a finer home, and, pointing to a jar, said, "Pack that wine too." His silver dwindled, yet fulfillment warmed him.
Meanwhile, Miles from Guanwing City, on a desolate plain, a dragon's roar shook the wilds. Black-armored warriors scattered like ragdolls, horses collapsed, bleeding from every orifice, their innards pulped. Within a carriage, a white-haired elder strummed a zither, its melody serene amidst chaos.
A gruff voice boomed: "Facing death, yet unperturbed—the Great Zu, your poise humbles me!" The elder ceased playing, lifting the curtain. A black-armored man, seized by a massive hand, struggled vainly. The hand's owner, wild-haired as a dormant tiger, hurled the assassin skyward, smash him to dust. The man saluted. "Yue Qingfeng, Fourth-Rank General under Commander Yu, Left Army Overseer, former Chief of Tianwu's Four Divisions, pays respects to the Great Zu."
Zu, renowned for astronomy and geometry, lacked martial skill. Bound for the capital to aid Commander Yu, he faced elite assassins—saved only by Yue's timely arrival. "How did you find me?" Zu asked. Yue, aiding him down, replied, "By chance. Awaiting the Great Zu in Guanwing City, I spared scouts for a boy's training, searched a corpse, and learned of your peril."
Zu resolved, "The more they block me, the more I must go. But first, to Guanwing City for an old debt." He spoke of a past bond, a puzzle set for the city's scholars to find a disciple for his Daoist talismans. Yue, grinning, recalled a certain lad, agreeing to escort Zu and check on the boy.
Unaware of Yue's mention, Li Yongyi returned home, his auntie absent. On his tattered bed, he sat cross-legged, staring the Cauldron of Ancients.
The Cauldron trembles and the Crimson Wyrm seeks to emerge.
"Let's see," he murmured, "what manner of thing are you?"
**(End of Chapter)**