Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Painting of the White Crane

Bao Tianyou himself was not particularly gifted, his talents roughly on par with Meng Qi’s. He had been attempting to win Chen Fan over for some time, and this time he went a step further by directly inviting Chen Fan to become a retainer of the Bao family.

Generally, such invitations were only extended after one had truly begun cultivating martial arts, having attained a certain level of skill. Bao Tianyou’s early invitation was a testament to how highly he valued Chen Fan’s perception and potential.

After all, Chen Fan was not yet fourteen and had already broken into the top thirty of the martial competition—no small feat. Moreover, he practiced formidable techniques such as the Palm of Wind and Thunder and the White Cloud Pine and Crane Palm. For someone of Chen Fan’s age to possess such strength, he must have been born with extraordinary vitality. Even if his physical foundations were only average, and he never fully mastered the White Cloud Pine and Crane Palm, he would still enjoy a considerable advantage cultivating internal arts. He would have little trouble distinguishing himself among the disciples of the White Cloud Hall.

Bao Tianyou promised Chen Fan a monthly stipend of five taels of silver, with the amount to be increased as Chen Fan’s abilities grew. He even arranged for a detached house near White Cloud Hall for Chen Fan and his family to live in.

Five taels was not an extravagant sum; to a wealthy scion like Bao Tianyou, it was a mere trifle. But gifting a house—that was a grand gesture indeed. In these times, a single-family residence in the county town was far more valuable than a small courtyard on the outskirts; even the cheapest would cost dozens, if not hundreds, of taels of silver. On top of that, the security and environment within the county far surpassed those of the outskirts. Take Huai Tree Street, for example, where Chen Fan currently resided—it was under the “rule” of the Black Tiger Gang and plagued by disorder. If they moved into town, Chen Fan would no longer have to set out and return at such early and late hours.

Furthermore, Little Chen Xi was soon to reach the age to start school, and living in the county would make it much more convenient for her to attend classes. Chen Fan placed great importance on education and had been somewhat troubled about the girl’s schooling.

What’s more, the obligations Chen Fan would undertake as a retainer were not onerous. At this stage, his main focus remained martial cultivation. Five taels of silver was not a small amount. Bao Tianyou, as a scion of a noble family, had already expressed his goodwill toward Chen Fan, and now, with such sincerity, Chen Fan had no objections.

Chen Fan had a good impression of Bao Tianyou and accepted the offer without hesitation. After all, future recompense wasn’t set in stone; if Bao Tianyou truly wished to keep him, he would increase it in time.

Bao Tianyou was overjoyed, giving Chen Fan three months’ stipend up front. That very day, he sent someone to escort Chen Fan and his family to view their new home.

His elder sister-in-law remained uneasy, yet it was evident she was thoroughly pleased with the new house. Farm courtyards might be more spacious, but in terms of comfort, they were no match for the residence provided by the Bao family in town.

After returning home, Chen Fan immediately put up a notice to sell their little house on the outskirts, though he doubted it would fetch a good price given its location.

At the same time, Bao Tianyou sent people to help with the move.

People always strive upward, and the family’s ties with their neighbors were not so close as to make the move difficult.

…

Night fell.

Back at home, Chen Fan held a painting in his hands, examining it from every angle, his face alight with excitement.

It was the painting of the white crane that Bao Tianyou had given him.

It was not that Chen Fan had a particular fondness for paintings, but rather, as Bao Tianyou had said, this piece contained a certain spiritual essence—one that truly inspired comprehension in him.

What he had imagined might be possible and what he experienced in reality were worlds apart.

Chen Fan unfurled the painting of the white crane, faced it, and performed a full set of palm techniques in sequence.

Upon completing the routine, he felt heat surging through his palms, and glowing characters flashed before his eyes.

The White Cloud Pine and Crane Palm had finally broken through; the technique he was cultivating had advanced by twenty percent, and his efficiency had increased by roughly that much as well.

This was an astonishing rate of progress.

Chen Fan was beside himself with joy. Although the improvement seemed minor, the time saved far surpassed that of other martial arts.

Of course, in recent days, Chen Fan had experienced several breakthroughs and moments of insight, which meant his vitality’s nurture lagged behind his progress in techniques; his strength had not yet caught up with his skills.

The next day, Chen Fan once more made his way to the tournament grounds.

The venue had been completely rearranged. Aside from the top thirty, all other disciples and spectators were given seats arranged around the central arena.

This round of competition would be held exclusively on Arena One.

The audience was much larger now; disciples from all the martial halls who were interested had come to watch, including Bao Tianyou and others.

The heads of the county’s martial halls, along with several gang leaders, personally attended the event, seated in the place of honor on the platform facing the arena, accompanied by their instructors.

After the thirty contestants had taken the stage and introduced themselves, the official start of the competition was announced.

Standing below the arena, Chen Fan spotted among the hall masters a refined young man he immediately recognized as Li Linliu.

He was filled with emotion.

This was his first time seeing Li Linliu since joining White Cloud Hall, and he was quite excited. Unfortunately, Li Linliu, chatting and laughing with the other hall masters, paid no attention to the thirty competitors—he did not even notice this familiar face among them.

The top thirty would be halved to fifteen in this round, with head-to-head matches. The winners would advance; the losers would be eliminated.

Among the thirty, most had not started cultivating internal arts, though all had reached the level of inner breath, and many had even defeated first-tier martial artists. The weakest were of Meng Qi’s caliber.

The gong sounded. Amidst the roaring crowd, the contest began.

…

To make it into the top thirty, one needed genuine skill. Among them, true geniuses were increasingly common. By this stage, those like Meng Qi, who had only recently succeeded with a second-tier manual, were already among the weakest.

There were a few lucky contestants among the top thirty, but they were now rare; most possessed real ability.

For example, during the preliminaries, Chen Fan had seldom encountered someone who had mastered a first-tier strength-training manual, but in the finals, prodigies who had cultivated such manuals appeared in the first two matches.

Chen Fan’s eyes burned with intensity. Only such opponents could pressure him to reach greater heights.

The third match saw Meng Qi take the stage.

Though Meng Qi had made it to the top thirty, his strength was limited. Facing a first-tier disciple whose foundation was no weaker than his own, he was quickly defeated after only a brief exchange.

This was a gap in raw ability—so great that Meng Qi had no chance to stall or drag out the fight.

“Victory and defeat are common in the martial world. Making it to the top thirty was already more luck than I could have hoped for…”

Coming down from the stage, Meng Qi, not waiting for Chen Fan to console him, offered a smile of his own accord, though there was a trace of disappointment in his tone.

Among ordinary people, Meng Qi could be considered quite talented, but among the many prodigies at this contest, he no longer stood out.

Chen Fan knew he was speaking the truth. If all participants were ranked, Meng Qi would be hard-pressed to make the top thirty; getting this far had indeed been a matter of luck.

“Junior Brother Chen, keep at it. You’re stronger than me. If you draw a less formidable opponent, you might win another round.”

Meng Qi believed Chen Fan was stronger, but only by so much; to keep advancing, he would still need some luck.

“Wish me some good fortune,” Chen Fan replied with a smile, turning his gaze to the arena.

The current match featured Ge Yuantong, a disciple of White Cloud Hall.

If, in earlier rounds, Chen Fan had been able to handle his opponents with ease, now the number of competitors who could threaten him was growing.

At the same time, Chen Fan wondered to himself:

“Ge Yuantong has mastered two second-tier manuals—his talent is extraordinary. Why did he rush into cultivating internal arts instead of building his foundation further?”

The seeded contestants in this round, aside from Yan Linsu and Feng Yuancheng, were all second-tier martial artists with solid foundations.

One exception might be a coincidence, but two or three made Chen Fan curious. To reach the second tier before eighteen—could they not have trained another manual?

“If I get a talkative opponent next time, I should ask about this…”

…

After waiting through two more matches, it was finally Chen Fan’s turn.

His opponent was a young woman from the Winter Plum Pavilion named Li Wen, almost eighteen years old.

Li Wen, with her striking phoenix eyes, athletic build, and sun-kissed skin, was an attractive young woman. Compared to the thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girls in his own class, there was no doubt that a mature girl like her was much more to Chen Fan’s taste.

She was also one of the few female contestants in this competition.

Nonetheless, after giving her a lingering look, Chen Fan withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes to compose himself.

“Women are nothing but a distraction.”