Chapter 13: The Young Man Rises Like a Fierce Tiger

"Captain Huang?" An Le gazed at Huang Xian, who hurried toward him through the spring rain, and was momentarily taken aback.

The man's urgent demeanor made it clear he wasn't here simply to exchange pleasantries.

"Master An, I went to the inn just now and couldn't find you. The attendant informed me you headed toward West Lake, so I came to look for you," Captain Huang said cheerfully.

After he finished speaking, he clasped his hands in greeting, his face bright with a smile. "Let me first congratulate you, Master An, for being chosen by the Lin household to paint keepsakes for their young gentlemen about to depart for the campaign."

"I was merely fortunate," An Le replied, "only because Lady Hua and the matriarch were pleased with my modest paintings did I get the chance to stay at the Lin residence and paint."

"And I must thank you, Captain Huang, for bringing me into the Lin household."

An Le bent slightly under his oil-paper umbrella, offering his gratitude.

"Oh, it was nothing, merely a small favor. In truth, Ninth Lady was the one who asked me to find you. I was just the guide, haha," Captain Huang replied, looking quite pleased at An Le's thanks.

"What business brings you to me today, Captain Huang?" An Le inquired.

"Ah, right, to the point. I do indeed have a request for you, Master An. Your paintings are famed for their realism, and I'd like to commission a portrait," Captain Huang said, his expression turning serious.

"A portrait?" An Le asked in confusion. "For whom?"

Captain Huang wiped the rain from his face. "To be honest, Master An, this is my own initiative. The portrait is for a suspect pursued by the Black Office. There are no clear details of his appearance, but some witnesses have provided descriptions. I hope you can use those descriptions to render a likeness. Your skill for realism might help us reconstruct the suspect's features more accurately."

An Le understood at once—it was a wanted poster.

The task wasn't particularly difficult; even if his portrait missed the mark, it wouldn't matter much, since there was no confirmed image of the suspect to begin with. But with some distinctive features described, An Le was confident he could achieve a fairly close likeness, which would aid in the pursuit.

He didn't refuse. Captain Huang had helped him, and this request was one he was glad to accept.

"Then, once I leave the Lin household today, I'll head directly to the Black Office to find you. We can do the portrait then," An Le said with a smile.

Captain Huang was delighted by An Le's ready agreement, thinking this young man was someone worth befriending.

"Hm? Has Master An awakened his qi and blood?" Captain Huang noticed the latent vitality within An Le and was surprised.

He remembered An Le saying he had only just begun his cultivation. Yet in a single day, he'd stepped into the first stage of body refinement.

What a prodigious talent!

"Yesterday, Lady Hua gifted me a cultivation manual, which allowed me to reach the first stage," An Le replied with a smile. The joy of breaking through was all the greater when shared.

"It seems you were only slow to start, Master An. Once you began, your talent is exceptional. It's a pity you started late," Captain Huang remarked, feeling regret.

They chatted for a while longer, during which An Le quietly drew away the last strand of temporal energy from Captain Huang.

With An Le's promise secured, Captain Huang excused himself, busy with official duties.

Spring rain continued to fall over Lin'an Prefecture, threading through its maze of alleys and soaring rooftops, among the cloaked and umbrella-bearing passersby.

An Le strode forth beneath his oil-paper umbrella, stepping through shallow streams of rainwater, gradually making his way into the quiet depths of the long street.

...

...

"An Le, from Chongzhou, last autumn passed the local civil exam and came to Lin'an as a successful candidate. Skilled in poetry and painting, but never began cultivation, his body unrefined—an ordinary person," read the information in front of Liu Qingyan.

He sat by the window on the third floor of the Drunken Dragon Pavilion, a lofty, hexagonal building with ornate carved beams and lavish decor. Lin'an had three famous towers: Lakeview Pavilion, Flower Court, and Drunken Dragon Pavilion. The Drunken Dragon stood near the end of the main street, adjacent to the mansions of the nobility. Its business prospered, its clientele all distinguished, and its food and wine were renowned for their excellence—and their price.

Rumor had it the Drunken Dragon had connections to the palace, offering rare wines found only within royal halls, such as Rose Dew and Drunken Cloud.

Liu Qingyan had spent a fortune booking a window seat here. On the table lay sliced pig's head, stir-fried beef, and palace wine, Drunken Cloud.

Before him sat a dossier containing An Le's information.

"This boy is actually a successful candidate? And I am supposed to break the hands of a scholar? I..." Liu Qingyan scowled, his mood tangled.

He had assumed the youth was just another common painter, nothing special, but now realized he was a scholar, a promising young man.

"But fortunately, he's not a cultivator. That makes things much easier."

"And Mr. Luo has promised me that once I've done the dirty work, he'll arrange for me to leave Lin'an safely. I... have no choice."

Liu Qingyan sighed. In the struggles of the nobility, even the casual waves they made could sweep people up against their will.

He was being made to take the fall, but could he refuse? If he did, he feared he'd die even faster than the youth.

He raised the porcelain cup, sipping Drunken Cloud—one mouthful cost five taels of silver.

He picked up a few pieces of beef, chewing as he gazed out the window.

From this vantage, he could clearly see the entrance to Quiet Street.

To reach the Lin household, one must pass through Quiet Street. It was so named because it marked the boundary between the noble mansions and the bustling main thoroughfare.

Common folk and vendors dared not enter Quiet Street, for fear of disturbing the nobility.

The nobles themselves rarely walked there.

This stretch was sparsely populated—perfect for striking.

"Master An, blame yourself for taking my opportunity, disrupting the plans of the nobles..."

"What a pity, those hands capable of such realistic paintings."

Liu Qingyan shook his head, thinking of An Le's lifelike sketches, soon to be ruined, and felt a surge of smugness, draining two cups of Drunken Cloud.

As a painter monopolizing commissions for the courtesans and flower queens of the pleasure boats, Liu Qingyan naturally had his methods. Besides his superb skills, he was in league with gangs, employing thugs.

Many painters who tried to compete with him had suffered—some had their hands broken, others were bound and sunk in the river. Even the most glamorous city had its rats, and Liu Qingyan himself was a rat in master’s clothing.

The noble who sought him out gave him a choice: pay five hundred coins or break An Le's painting hands.

For Liu Qingyan, there was little real choice.

Naturally, he reverted to his old ways—break An Le's hands!

Though he risked offending the Lin household, he had Young Lord Qin backing him, so his safety was assured.

He chewed the beef absentmindedly, lifted his wine, and cast his gaze toward the cold, quiet street. Amidst the persistent spring rain, a figure appeared, umbrella in hand.

A youth in blue, holding an oil-paper umbrella—like a blossom unfolding in the rain, walking leisurely.

"To be invited into the Lin household as a painter, to win their favor—this boy must be feeling triumphant now."

"But soon, he'll have much to mourn."

Liu Qingyan's eyes narrowed, a chill flickering through them as he drained his cup of Drunken Cloud.

With a sharp snap, he slammed the wine cup onto the table, watching through the rain for the drama about to unfold on Quiet Street.

...

...

An Le walked beneath his umbrella, spring rain flowing like oil, streaming through the cracks of the stone pavement.

The surroundings grew ever quieter, the passersby fading away, isolating him from the clamor and noise. Deep within Quiet Street lay the mansions of the nobility, who prized tranquility, making any disturbance unwelcome.

His blue robes fluttered, the cuffs dampened by the rain.

As he walked, An Le pondered how to distribute the three strands of temporal energy he'd just absorbed.

His cultivation talent fruit had been enhanced thrice, boosting his aptitude.

Moreover, both the Five Beasts Body Refining Art and Sword Waterfall Diagram could be augmented by temporal energy, though he had yet to do so, nor had he added any to the Sword Dancer fruit.

So many facets to improve, yet so little temporal energy.

He sighed—such scarcity.

Today, upon entering the Lin household, he must harvest more temporal energy.

But Lady Hua's energy could not be taken; to do so would leave him weak for a day, wasting the opportunity.

Hm?!

Lost in thought over how to allocate his temporal energy, An Le suddenly halted.

The spiritual strength he'd cultivated brought a hint of warning to his heart!

He whipped around.

In a deserted alley off Quiet Street, three burly men stood, each wearing short jackets and colored triangular scarves over their mouths, grinning wickedly at him.

To break a scholar-painter's hands was a routine job for Liu Qingyan's seasoned thugs.

They relished the cries of those so-called refined gentlemen, humbled and howling.

"Are you An Le?"

The leader, mouth covered with a red scarf, addressed him.

"Someone's paid for your hands. If you cooperate, it'll spare you a beating."

As he spoke, the man lunged out from the alley.

The spring rain shattered against his charging form, briefly shrouding him in a misty silhouette.

In just a few strides, he reached An Le.

His massive fist swung out—an opening move from the common Zhao Ancestral Long Fist. Though it lacked the support of qi and blood, it was performed well enough, and he looked forward to seeing the terror and despair on the youth's face beneath the umbrella, followed by his anguished screams.

Yet—

Under the oil-paper umbrella, the youth's brows knit. He tilted his head, watching the red-scarfed attacker approach.

Five Beasts Fierce Tiger Thirteen Forms!

Vital energy surged, strength rising!

It was as if a tiger roared in the forest!

Raindrops exploded into a spray around the youth's body!

The thug saw, in a flash, the seemingly frail scholar transform into a dazzling, ferocious tiger!