Chapter Fourteen: Schemes and a Deadly Trap

Rumors were swirling in the town: a gang known as the Blood Wolf Bandits had been seen moving along the outskirts of Misty Mountain and might soon pass through Nanshan Town. Wherever they went, they left villages slaughtered and settlements destroyed, their cruelty unmatched.

“If it’s true, we’re in real trouble,” Yang Dahu’s voice dropped a notch. “And there’s more. This morning, a hunting party found an iron-feathered eagle’s egg. They were chased out of the mountains, the egg was lost and shattered, and the eagle went mad. It slaughtered the entire hunting party—none made it back. The eagle itself was left gravely wounded, close to death.”

Blood Wolf Bandits?
Iron-feathered eagle?

Yang Fan’s expression changed dramatically. The Blood Wolf Bandits were still a vague threat—he had never encountered them, so the danger felt distant. But the iron-feathered eagle was another matter entirely. He knew it well: with a wingspan nearly twenty meters wide, a single beat of its wings swept up gales that could send stones flying. Its beak could pierce a human skull with ease, its talons could tear a person in two. Even its feathers were sharp as blades, able to slice a body in half if they swept by.

Such was the iron-feathered eagle: a true beast of ferocity.

He recalled hearing the eagle’s cry that morning, never imagining it would herald such disaster.

“There’s something else,” Yang Dahu continued. “A lot of hunters have come down from the mountains. They say a pack of unicorn wolves—dozens of them—has appeared. Even the old hunters don’t dare go back into the hills.”

“Unicorn wolves? Aren’t they usually deep within the forest? Why have they come out?” Yang Fan was surprised. As he spoke, an inexplicable sense of unease crept over him.

“Who knows!” Yang Dahu muttered, shoveling food into his mouth. “The whole town’s on edge now, afraid the wolves will descend on us.”

“But Master Wang and the others don’t seem worried. Even if the wolves come down, I’m sure they can handle it. Don’t worry,” Yang Fan offered a reassuring word.

After dinner, Yang Fan let Dahu leave first. He planned to study for a while longer at the apothecary, but as he approached, he saw Steward Wang and the young man in white.

He already knew a bit about this young man: he was from the capital, called Nangong Wentian, here both for leisure and to oversee the establishment of a new academy. Whether he had other motives, Yang Fan could not say.

A thought struck Yang Fan, and he walked over, bowing with cupped hands. “Greetings, Young Master Nangong, Uncle Wang!”

Nangong Wentian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

“Heading home already?” Steward Wang asked cheerfully.

“There’s nothing to do at home, so I thought I’d study a bit longer,” Yang Fan replied, edging closer. “Uncle Wang, it’s only been two or three days, and I’ve already memorized all the medicines. In a few more days, I’ve learned almost half of herb identification. Do you think I could start learning martial arts early? If I train sooner and become stronger, I’ll be even more useful to our Benevolence Hall.”

Steward Wang blinked. “You really are a prodigy, boy—almost photographic memory and a keen sensitivity for herbs. Give it time, and you’ll be a master. As for martial arts, the sooner the better. We’re at the edge of Misty Mountain; wild beasts are a constant threat. Strength means safety. And with more power, you’ll be able to venture deeper into the mountains for rare herbs. Still, even though I know you’re bound to come out on top, the rules are set. I can’t change them.”

“I see…” Yang Fan’s face fell. “I heard Young Master Nangong isn’t much older than I am, yet he’s already stepped into the realm of martial arts, a true expert. I admire him greatly, and he’s become my inspiration. I hope to train soon, to follow in his footsteps, to shed blood and sweat for our Benevolence Hall, and make it the finest hall under heaven.”

Nangong Wentian pretended indifference, raising his chin and puffing out his chest, exuding an air of superiority and distinction. Yet, the corner of his eye kept flicking toward them, and his ears pricked up at Yang Fan’s words. At the latter part, he unconsciously straightened even more, his breath quickening.

Admiration? Respect? Life’s goal? Willingness to sacrifice?

Had someone else said such things, he might not have cared. But this was a boy even younger than himself—a youth whose genius was acknowledged by Master Liu and others. For a moment, his chest swelled with emotion, and he found himself truly looking at Yang Fan, finding him more and more pleasing to the eye.

“It’s thanks to people like you that our Benevolence Hall endures through the generations, always flourishing, always with a bright future,” Steward Wang said, giving Nangong Wentian a meaningful glance before turning serious. “Xiao Fan, don’t lose heart, don’t get discouraged, and don’t let your passion cool. Just wait a little longer—two or three months at most. With your talent, you might step into martial arts in that time. There’s no need to rush; it’s only a few months. When the time comes, give it your all and grow strong quickly. Maybe you’ll have the chance to follow the young master, to become his right hand and achieve great things.”

Nangong Wentian’s breath caught, his eyes brightened, and he quickly spoke up. “Martial arts techniques, is that it? I have the authority to decide.”

“Thank you, Young Master!” Yang Fan exclaimed, his gaze burning with undisguised gratitude and admiration.

“Is that appropriate?” Steward Wang hesitated.

“There’s nothing inappropriate about it.” Nangong Wentian waved his hand grandly, then paused. Turning to Yang Fan, he said, “If you want to break the rules, there needs to be a reason. Here’s what I propose, Yang Fan: if you can pass the herb identification assessment within ten days, I’ll personally grant you a superior martial arts manual, one much stronger than what you would’ve received otherwise. Can you do it?”

“Thank you, Young Master!” Yang Fan bowed deeply, then asked quietly, “What if I finish even sooner?”

“There will be an even greater reward!” Nangong Wentian smiled. “Within ten days, you can request the assessment at any time. I’ll oversee it myself. Yang Fan, don’t let me down!”

He patted Yang Fan’s shoulder and strode away, Steward Wang hurrying after him, flashing a thumbs-up behind his back.

“Ten days?” Yang Fan smiled. He would need far less than that.

He glanced around and noticed a few eavesdropping students staring at him in shock. He paid them no mind and made his way to the apothecary.

Elsewhere, Steward Wang and Nangong Wentian walked together.

“Steward Wang, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Heh, I knew I couldn’t fool you, Young Master. That boy really is a rare genius—still young, clever, easily guided by both kindness and firmness. He’ll absolutely become your right hand in the future.”

“You’re right. He is a genius—otherwise, I wouldn’t have bent the rules. I’m actually looking forward to seeing if he can pass the assessment in ten days. If he does, having him by my side will do wonders for my reputation,” Nangong Wentian said, a smile curving his lips.

Steward Wang grinned as well.

That very night, news spread throughout the hall: Yang Fan had ten days to pass the assessment, with a chance for an even better martial arts manual.

Meanwhile, Yang Xiang and Yang Tian were meeting again. One was the youngest son of the town chief, the other the young heir of Taifeng Tavern.

“First place should’ve been mine, but he stole it. Now he’s going to get the manual early? Yang Xiang, didn’t you say you’d teach that brat a lesson? Why haven’t you done anything?”

“He’s always with Yang Dahu. I haven’t had a chance!”

“Yang Dahu’s left already. Tonight’s the perfect opportunity. Let’s do it together. In three months, I’ll be first, you’ll be second—and if we win Young Master Nangong’s favor, we’ll soar to greatness.”

“Fine. We’ll cripple him on his way home!”

“That’s useless. He can still study, still outshine us both.”

“So what are you suggesting, Tian?”

“We kill him,” Yang Tian said coldly. “He’s just a nobody. I heard your family’s been worried about that patch of land he owns. If he’s dead, that’s one less problem for you.”

“That’s… isn’t that going too far?” Yang Xiang hesitated.

“Hmph. Those who achieve greatness don’t fuss over trifles. You and I are true dragons, destined to soar the skies. Killing a shrimp like him is nothing. Besides, he’s an orphan—toss him in a ditch, and no one will investigate. A low life like his ought to know his place. If he doesn’t, he deserves to die. He made the one mistake he never should have—getting in our way.”

“Fine!” Yang Xiang recalled his father cursing that little bastard Yang Fan at home for not knowing his place, for being ungrateful, reckless. He nodded fiercely.