Chapter Forty-One: The Treasure of the Great Tang

This time, Liu Yunfei had learned his lesson and did not charge in recklessly. His body was already brimming with spiritual energy, granting him immense strength, making it unnecessary to build up momentum with a running start. He stopped just a step in front of Gao Renhou. A gust of wind from the north sent his long hair fluttering. Liu Yunfei looked into Gao Renhou’s deep eyes, which held a calm, faint smile. The dense but neatly trimmed stubble on his lip gave him an air of steadfast strength. Liu Yunfei wondered if this was the so-called aura of a true king, for that sense of authority was enough to command awe.

This time, Liu Yunfei aimed his punch not at Gao Renhou's face, but swept it horizontally toward his waist. Since his hands hung naturally at his sides, it was the closest and easiest target. Yet, he still failed to land the blow. Gao Renhou simply drew a circle in front of him with one hand, effortlessly deflecting Liu Yunfei’s punch away from its mark. Not to be idle, Liu Yunfei swung with his other hand, but no matter how many times he struck, he never managed to touch Gao Renhou. The other man simply kept drawing circles of varying size and angle in the air, dissolving each of Liu Yunfei’s powerful blows with ease and little effort.

“Is this Tai Chi?” Liu Yunfei began to understand. This must have been a family style passed down to Gao Renhou. Even he didn’t know its name, usually employing it only against opponents with overwhelming strength—never in his life had he needed to use it. He was surprised when Liu Yunfei named it. Tai Chi was founded by the legendary Zhang Sanfeng at the end of the Yuan and the start of the Ming dynasties, centuries ago. Gao Renhou, having been secluded for so long, had never heard that name. Curiously, he asked, “You recognize this style?”

“Not really. I just thought it looked familiar,” Liu Yunfei replied, not daring to claim knowledge he didn’t have.

“Oh? This is our family’s boxing style—I never knew its name. I simply call it the ‘Circle Fist,’ though I don’t use it often,” said Gao Renhou, slightly embarrassed by how unsophisticated the name sounded.

“I know a style called Tai Chi. Let me show you a move or two.” Liu Yunfei then mimicked the movements often seen performed by elderly practitioners in the parks on TV, imitating Tai Chi with exaggerated gestures.

“Not bad. Though it looks different from our Circle Fist, the principle is the same; both use the opponent’s strength and match speed to overcome slowness,” Gao Renhou remarked, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be sparring. He copied Liu Yunfei’s hand movements, trying out Tai Chi himself.

“Tai Chi, created by the immortal Zhang Sanfeng at the end of the Yuan and the beginning of the Ming, emphasizes intent over technique. The mind leads the body, moving freely and naturally, responding quickly to speed and strongly to strength,” Liu Yunfei recited, half-remembered from books and television.

“Good. Your Tai Chi is more precise and fluid than our Circle Fist, but by the look of it, you haven’t even reached the beginner’s level—it’s all form without substance, unable to unleash its true power.” Even foreigners could tell Liu Yunfei’s performance was just for show.

“All right, enough. Are you still going to fight?” Gao Renhou asked, though it was clear he had no intention of resuming the match. With his hands behind his back, he walked straight toward the house.

Liu Yunfei realized the old man had no intention of harming him and, having embarrassed himself enough for one day, didn’t wish to perform any more ridiculous stunts like falling flat on his face. He quickly followed, flattering effusively, “Master Ancestor, you truly possess the spirit and martial prowess to sweep the world, unrivaled and handsome beyond compare. I am in awe, utterly humbled.”

No flattery is ever too much. Liu Yunfei borrowed lines from historical dramas, regretting only that he hadn’t watched more of them.

Though the old man was usually revered with awe and fear, he had never been subjected to such shameless praise. Even though the words were somewhat far-fetched, he found himself enjoying them, walking with exaggerated official steps and laughing heartily with his hands clasped behind his back.

“May the Divine Dragon Lord enjoy eternal blessings and live as long as Heaven itself,” Liu Yunfei quoted straight from The Deer and the Cauldron.

“Enough, enough. You’re getting out of hand. Are you conceding?” Gao Renhou was almost embarrassed by the flattery.

“I concede, I concede.” Liu Yunfei nodded and bowed repeatedly.

“Still dissatisfied? Want to go another round or two?” Gao Renhou teased, eyeing Liu Yunfei’s mud-stained appearance.

“No, no, I spoke out of turn and angered you, Master Ancestor. I wouldn’t dare.”

“Then come with me.”

Liu Yunfei followed him into the house. Passing the entrance, he saw the three vampires watching nervously and nodded to reassure them. They proceeded to a small room behind the main hall. Gao Renhou gestured for others not to enter, bringing only Liu Yunfei inside. The room was a modest study, still decorated in a medieval style. All the lights—chandeliers, wall sconces, and lamps—were lit, making the room brilliantly bright.

“As I said, since you lost, you must obey my arrangement. Are you willing?” Gao Renhou asked from behind his desk.

“Whatever you command, Master Ancestor, I will obey—so long as it doesn’t betray humanity, the nation, or our people; doesn’t involve murder, arson, breaking the law, or violating principles. I, Liu Yunfei, would go through fire and water, risk life and limb, without a second thought,” he recited, as if performing an opera.

“Quite principled, I see. None of what you mentioned will I ask of you. Then I will make you a vampire. That doesn’t go against your principles, does it?”

“Master Ancestor…” Liu Yunfei was caught off-guard by the suggestion. In the past, he might have considered it, but after seeing how wretched the vampires seemed—and with Harry outside pleading to become human again—he hesitated. “Can I choose something else?”

“All right, another option.” The old man was accommodating. “Then kill yourself.”

“…Master Ancestor, I’m only eighteen and still a virgin,” Liu Yunfei protested, at a loss.

Now it was Gao Renhou’s turn to be speechless. “You have a point. How about I summon a few female vampires to have their way with you before killing you?”

“Master Ancestor, that’s too cruel. Please, another option.”

“Nothing pleases you. How about you accompany me into seclusion at the sanctuary and sleep with me for fifty or sixty years?”

“Please, Master Ancestor, have mercy. At your age, if word got out you bullied a youngster, it wouldn’t look good.” Liu Yunfei put on a shameless face, continuing to flatter, “A hero of your stature, renowned, awe-inspiring, dashing and elegant, with strength undiminished by age—like an old steed in the stable—what else can I say?”

“All right, enough—I’m not as old as you make me out to be. This time, no more bargaining. Help me with one task, and I’ll help your friend with that spell he needs as well.” Gao Renhou finally spoke seriously.

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Do you know why those treacherous officials went to such lengths to frame me back then?” Gao Renhou narrowed his eyes, as if peering through time into the distant past.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

…Liu Yunfei felt wronged—wasn’t it you who asked?

Gao Renhou furrowed his brow, as if reliving the bloody storms of a thousand years ago, and began recounting his tale: “At the end of the Tang Dynasty, during the Tianbao era, An Lushan and Shi Siming rose in rebellion, plunging the world into chaos. In the fifteenth year of Tianbao, An Lushan broke through Tongguan, captured the defending general Geshu Han, and marched straight into Chang’an. Emperor Xuanzong fled to Shu. To prevent An Lushan from advancing south, Xuanzong ordered me to take the imperial treasury’s accumulated jewels and gold, amassed over centuries, and hide them in a secret place. But while I was heading west, the crown prince was proclaimed emperor. Xuanzong, resentful, commanded me to never reveal the treasure’s location. After the rebellion was quelled, the treacherous chancellor Li Fuguo, coveting the treasure, tried to force me to hand it over. I refused, and he accused me of conspiring with foreign powers to rebel, executing over three hundred members of my family. On my way back to Chang’an, a loyal subordinate delivered a secret message after riding two hundred miles through the night, and I escaped alone. I joined a Uyghur merchant caravan and spent months leaving the Tang territory. Yet Li Fuguo would not relent—he sent assassins after me across a thousand miles, hoping to force me to surrender the treasure map. With no allies, I could only flee ever farther northwest, eventually reaching this frozen northern land, where I have remained for over a thousand years, never returning.”