Chapter Twenty-One: Ninth Rank Below, First Rank Above

Over the course of a single night, Yang Fan managed to achieve a modest mastery of the Cloak Blade Technique. The speed of his progress left even him astonished. Could he truly be a prodigy?

The next day, at the academy, Han Li arrived with startling news. “Yang Fan, you’ll never guess what happened last night.”

“Don’t tell me Yang Tai was killed?” Yang Fan countered.

“That’s exactly what happened.” Han Li raised his thumb and lowered his voice. “Just as we suspected, the county constable came yesterday, surrounded the Taifeng Inn without attacking, clearly baiting the patriarch of the Yang family to come and resolve matters. Sure enough, the Yangs took the bait, bringing their elite to avoid mishaps, only to fall into an ambush by the county constable’s men. The old patriarch, an eighth-rank martial artist, took two arrows and lost an arm, yet he still fought his way out and escaped into the Misty Mountains.”

Yang Fan was taken aback. Speculation was one thing, but witnessing reality unfold was another. “The Yang family is so powerful—doesn’t the county constable fear repercussions for such a bold move?”

“Colluding with the Blood Wolf Bandits is reason enough to destroy them utterly,” Han Li scoffed. “The key was catching them off guard. Otherwise, even if they truly were working with the bandits, it wouldn’t have mattered as much.”

Taifeng Inn had changed hands. The Yangs of the county would be stripped of everything. However glorious their past, once the tower fell, their prestige vanished like smoke.

Still, one fact was now certain: the county constable was of the eighth rank.

Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

That morning, Yang Fan sought out Steward Wang. “Uncle Wang, I’ve finished learning everything. I’d like to request the assessment.”

“Are you serious?” Steward Wang was startled.

“I wouldn’t dare lie about this!” Yang Fan replied. “If you doubt me, please test me now.”

“Very well. Wait a moment.” Steward Wang was about to enter the dispensary but paused, turned, and left.

Soon, he returned carrying a packet of medicinal herbs, which he laid out on the table. “Normally, you only need to remember the properties and basic identification. Discriminating individual herbs is optional, since every cabinet in the dispensary is labeled and you don’t need it for gathering in the mountains. Still, it’s always good to learn more. If you ever need to prepare prescriptions, you’ll be able to identify herbs directly.”

As he spoke, he opened the packet and spread out a jumble of herbs. “Here are eighteen different medicines. Separate them all and name each one. Don’t say it’s too strict—this is what the real test will be like.”

“Understood.” Yang Fan stepped forward and began sorting. “Prepared Pinellia, Poria, White Atractylodes…”

In no time at all, the eighteen herbs were neatly separated.

“Impressive!” Steward Wang was amazed. “You truly did it. Xiao Fan, you’re a genius in this field—a real prodigy. Wait here while I fetch Manager Liu and Young Master Nangong.”

He hurried off.

Soon, Manager Liu, Young Master Nangong, and Miss Nangong arrived, along with Apothecary Guan and others. Even Da Hu, Han Li, and the other apprentices gathered to watch.

Yang Fan followed them into the courtyard, where several tables and benches had been arranged.

“Are you sure you’ve mastered it all?” Nangong Wentian was skeptical.

He knew well how difficult the task was; he’d only dabbled in it himself.

“I’m sure!” Yang Fan answered with poise, his face radiating confidence. “Please give me your questions.”

“Very well.” Nangong Wentian arranged his robes and sat down. “Manager Liu, present the test.”

Manager Liu stepped forward, placed a large bundle on the table, and carefully spread out the contents.

When the herbs were revealed, even Apothecary Guan couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his mouth. The apprentices shuddered at the sight—a tangled heap, impossible to distinguish.

“Ahem…” Manager Liu realized he may have overdone it. “Yang Fan, as long as you can identify eighty percent, you’ll pass. Is that acceptable?”

He hadn’t specified how many kinds, clearly leaving a bit of suspense.

“No problem.” Yang Fan approached.

On the side were sorting sticks and tweezers. Left hand holding a stick, right hand the tweezers, he began swiftly separating herbs, calling out their names as he went.

Stems and leaves, tuberous roots, minerals, insects, powders, processed herbs—every type was present.

This time, Yang Fan intended to make a splash. The more talented he appeared, the more benefits he would reap. After all, this was merely a livelihood skill, not martial strength; it would not attract dangerous attention.

His sorting was as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water. In just the time it took to drink a cup of tea, he had divided the pile into fifty groups.

“Manager Liu, there are fifty types in total—is that correct?”

Yang Fan set down his sorting stick, brimming with confidence.

Applause rang out as Manager Liu looked at Yang Fan as if beholding a priceless gem. “Correct—fifty types, not one missing or mistaken. And you barely hesitated, which means you’ve memorized every characteristic, every scent, every vein—few veteran apothecaries could match your skill. Yang Fan, you are the most gifted I’ve ever seen in this field.”

“Amazing! This has been an eye-opener.” Nangong Wentian stood, eyes shining. “A bet is a bet. Later, I’ll choose an excellent martial art for you. Train well—I hope you’ll excel in both medicine and martial arts.”

“Thank you, Young Master Nangong!” Yang Fan heaved a sigh of relief. So long as he kept his word.

“Master!” Manager Liu approached. “Since Yang Fan is so exceptionally talented in medicine, why not let him join the dispensary? He could study prescriptions and diagnosis under the masters directly.”

“That would squander his talent,” Miss Nangong, who had been silent, spoke with a clear, pleasant voice. “Yang Fan’s memory and senses are extraordinary; he surely excels in martial arts as well. Perhaps he should first memorize prescriptions and study medical cases while continuing his martial training. If he proves average in martial arts, then he can focus on medicine later.”

“Wenxin, you’re thoughtful as ever. If he succeeds in martial arts before turning to medicine, he’ll become a true master in the future.” Nangong Wentian made the decision on the spot.

Manager Liu had no choice but to agree.

After a bit more conversation, the group dispersed.

But the apprentices were far from calm. They were still memorizing herbs, while Yang Fan had already passed the test and received special rewards and training. Jealousy simmered among them—even Han Li couldn’t help but feel it, though in the end he obediently returned to his studies with the others.

At noon, Yang Fan was invited to dine alone with Nangong Wentian, who was exceedingly hospitable and had prepared a lavish feast.

“Young Master, this is the first time I’ve ever enjoyed such a sumptuous meal.” Yang Fan was delighted, his gratitude obvious.

“This is nothing! With your talent, you’ll eat like this often in the future.” Nangong Wentian laughed. “Don’t call me ‘Young Master’ anymore—it’s too formal. Call me Big Brother Nangong or Brother Wentian.”

“Very well, Big Brother Nangong, I won’t stand on ceremony.”

“Haha, Xiao Fan, if you’re polite, you’ll seem like an outsider.”

One was winning him over; the other, offering respect—the meal was lively and warm.

Yang Fan took the chance to ask questions about martial arts. Regarding general knowledge, Nangong Wentian was generous, answering with even greater enthusiasm.

Before becoming a martial artist, one practiced fist and palm techniques to lay a foundation, strengthening muscles and bones, invigorating the blood. Upon reaching the limit, one would sense a barrier—the body’s own restraint. By refining one’s blood and energy, making the intangible tangible, one could break through the barrier and step onto the martial path as a ninth-rank martial artist.

A martial artist’s training involved channeling blood and energy, tempering the body, further enhancing vitality until reaching the next threshold. By breaking through one barrier after another, one could reach first-rank status.

“It’s said that a first-rank martial artist can shatter the Taifeng Inn with a single punch, leap a hundred meters, split mountains with a blade—power beyond imagination,” Nangong Wentian marveled, yearning in his tone.

“Big Brother Nangong, what lies beyond the first rank?” Yang Fan pressed on.