Chapter 20: Offering a Thousand Gold Pieces for a Steed’s Bones

Yang Cheng, seeing that Lu Baichuan had accepted an apprentice, said, “Xiao Wu, go inform Steward Su to prepare five thousand spirit coins as a meeting gift for Brother Lu’s disciple. We mustn’t show favoritism. Also, arrange a room for Mingzhu in Brother Lu’s courtyard.”

Xiao Wu responded at once and hurried off.

Lu Baichuan had grown numb to such generosity, managing only a bitter smile and a shake of his head. The path of cultivation was long, and his life’s purpose was to pursue the Great Dao and seek ascension in broad daylight. Even if he failed, when his lifespan came to its end, leaving behind a legacy, teaching a worthy disciple who could bring fame to his name, would still be a blessing. Repaying Yang’s life-saving grace with just ten years of service was already a great bargain for him.

Coming to the Yang estate, he could both look after his sworn brother’s descendants and now had the good fortune to accept Hua Mingzhu, a most gifted disciple. To gain two such talented inheritors at once was a stroke of luck he might not find in a hundred years of wandering. This was a debt of gratitude beyond words, one he could only remember quietly in his heart.

“In addition, Xiao Wu, take a hundred spirit coins as a reward for Mingzhu’s elder sister. Her recommendation, I accept,” Yang Cheng added.

He instructed Hua Mingzhu to return home with her second sister to see their family and reassure them before coming back. The two sisters’ faces were streaked with tears, but their hearts brimmed with joy as they knelt to give thanks and departed.

“That’s quite a generous reward—enough for her family to live on for many years,” Lu Baichuan couldn’t help but remark. This brother Yang was simply too lavish; he spent money as freely as water. No matter how vast the family fortune, it couldn’t last at this rate.

“Spend a fortune, and it will return,” Yang Cheng replied with a smile. “In my homeland, there’s a story called ‘A Thousand Gold for a Horse’s Bones.’ A king sought a thousand-li horse for years, but found none. Then he spent a thousand gold coins to buy just the bones of a dead one, and soon all under heaven knew he truly cherished fine horses. I, too, wish people to know that I sincerely seek talent.”

Lu Baichuan pondered and said, “But someone as gifted as Mingzhu is one in ten thousand. Discovering her was just luck.”

“I need all kinds of talent,” Yang Cheng replied. “Only then can everyone display their strengths and be put to good use. For now, I’m not strong enough; many talented people won’t look favorably on me, so naturally few come. But when the Yangs of South Hill gain strength and reputation, more and more talent will seek us out. As the story goes, ‘Spend a fortune on horse bones, and worthy men will gather from all directions.’”

“And when that time comes, I can follow the example of an ancient man from my homeland and issue a ‘Summons for the Worthy’ to attract even more talented people to aid me.”

“Pray, what is the esteemed name of this ancient man?” Lu Baichuan asked with longing.

Yang Cheng struck a pose of inscrutable profundity and said, “Cao Cao.”

Before dawn had fully broken, Hua Mingzhu was summoned by Lu Baichuan to the far end of the rear courtyard. The area was at the base of the back mountain, tranquil and peaceful. This was her first formal cultivation under a master’s guidance, and excitement mingled with nervousness left her unable to be careless.

Hua Mingzhu had never dared dream of such a moment. In the past, her greatest hope was to work as a servant in a wealthy household—enough to eat her fill, stay warm, and send some money home. With many mouths to feed and not enough food, she rarely went to bed satisfied. Illness or disaster meant borrowing from all sides, and hunger was a constant companion. Cultivation, like the immortals, was a luxury she’d never even considered.

Fate’s turn had been so sudden. Her second sister had said she’d found a good family—indeed, the best in the city, perhaps the world. The work was light, the monthly wage several times that of an ordinary family, with leisure time each day, days off every month, and the freedom to visit home. Those who worked diligently received rewards, and it was said the master never abused or beat the servants—something her whole family had never dared imagine. By contrast, the Li family where she’d worked before was so harsh she’d lost all hope, living only for nightfall, when sleep let her forget everything.

When exhaustion and hunger overwhelmed her, she’d want to cry and think of ending it all. When she couldn’t bring herself to do it, thoughts of her family would keep her going—bear with it a little longer, save up, and perhaps one day buy back her freedom. If she was lucky enough to save a bit more, she wouldn’t end up on the streets in her old age, but could live out her final days in peace.

She never expected the young master to send her sister to save her, as if pulling her out from the depths of a dark well. Still less did she expect to become the disciple of an immortal. Her new master’s face was forbidding, but she saw care for her in his eyes. What’s more, the young master had gifted her a large sum of spirit coins for cultivation, and another sum to support her family. She no longer had to worry about food or clothing, could visit home freely, and apart from cultivation, had no worries at all. To call it transforming from a sparrow to a phoenix was no exaggeration.

Each morning on waking, she dared not open her eyes, afraid she’d still be in the Li family’s woodshed. All of this seemed too sudden, like a dream. Only when her master’s deep voice called her name from outside did she let herself believe it was real.

At the clearing on the mountain’s slope, a boy about her own age was already practicing swordsmanship. Last night at dinner, her master had introduced him—his adopted son, Yu Chen. He was so diligent, she thought. Tomorrow, I’ll have to get up even earlier.

Yu Chen was a year younger than her, yet seemed more mature, as if he’d lived through unusual hardships. His swordplay looked formidable, but as she watched him move, she sensed a violent aura—frighteningly so. She had never touched a sword before, and standing here now, she felt terrified.

While she was lost in thought, a sudden blur passed before her eyes. At the sound of two sharp cracks, both Yu Chen and Mingzhu froze.

Yu Chen was stunned because, in that split second, his adoptive father had knocked the sword from his hand and landed a slap on his cheek. Mingzhu was shocked, realizing her master was strict enough to strike even his own adopted son without a second thought.

“I’ve told you before—you have no more enemies! If you keep cultivating with such anger in your heart, sooner or later you’ll lose control and fall into madness. No one will be able to save you then!” Lu Baichuan thundered.

Yu Chen looked at his adoptive father, the man he respected most besides his own father. His father had told him stories of this very man, and now at the Yang estate, he realized this scarred warrior was the hero he’d always admired. Being struck by him, Yu Chen felt no resentment. He lowered his head and said, “I’m sorry, Father. But…I can’t let go. Whenever I pick up the sword, those memories return.”

Indeed, the loss of his father had left him in agony, and in his deepest grief, he and his mother had struggled to survive, meeting hardship at every turn. So young, he’d tasted all the bitterness of life, and resentment had nowhere to go.

“If you can’t let go, then stop practicing for now. I don’t want to raise a killer,” Lu Baichuan said sternly, but his gaze softened at his son’s look of shock. “How about this: take a few days’ break. In the meantime, you’ll protect Young Master Yang for me. Perhaps spending time with him will inspire you.”

Yang Cheng was also someone Yu Chen deeply respected—the one who’d extended a helping hand when everyone else turned them away, who’d provided good conditions for his cultivation, who’d even saved his adoptive father’s life. To protect him was an unquestionable duty. Yet the young master’s spiritual cultivation was lower than his own, and his talent was feeble to the point of being called useless. What inspiration could he possibly offer?

Though he had doubts, a command from his adoptive father could not be ignored. “Yes, Father. I’ll go at once.”

After Yang Cheng had finished washing up and eating the breakfast Xiao Lan brought him, he opened his door to find Yu Chen standing outside with his sword, a red handprint still visible on his left cheek.

Yang Cheng chose not to mention it and greeted him cheerfully, “Hey, Yu Chen, you’re up early!”

Yu Chen replied with respect, “Good morning, Young Master. For the next few days, I’m under my father’s orders to protect you.”

“That’s wonderful! You don’t know it, but your father is too serious. When I stand before him, I feel so stiff, like a bookworm—my whole body aches from the tension,” Yang Cheng joked.

Seeing Yu Chen’s solemn expression, he added, “Come on, no need to be so serious. You’re still a kid—just tag along and have some fun. Your father is a great man in every way, but he’s too strict; it’s exhausting. Don’t worry, no one here would dare lay a finger on me.”

With that, Yang Cheng clapped Yu Chen on the shoulder. Watching the boy stand so straight made him want to laugh. “I’m only a few years older than you. Don’t call me ‘Young Master’—it sounds too formal. Just call me Brother Cheng.”

“Yes, Young Master! I mean, Brother Cheng!”

“And don’t be as stiff as your father. He’s so serious, I don’t even dare joke around with him. Young people should be lively! Come on, let’s go for a walk.”