The Qi Arts Master Chapter 35
Tian Ailang was certain the man matched his recollection, so he approached slowly. Scruffy beard, jutting jaw—he was one of the bandit brothers he'd briefly met on his way to the Medical Pavilion before.
“Y-Young master!”
The man spotted Tian Ailang and immediately dropped to his knees, bursting into tears. Chanho and Song Sogeol, following behind, froze in bewilderment at the display.
Tian Ailang lowered himself to meet the man's eyes.
“Whoa, easy now. What's got you like this the moment you see me? How've you been? Where are your brothers? And which one are you again? You all look so alike...”
Snot mixed with tears dripped into the man's beard as he sobbed. Song Sogeol quietly stepped back.
“I'm the Fifth Brother... And my brothers...”
The Fifth Brother babbled incoherently in his excitement at seeing Tian Ailang. Tian patiently calmed him and listened to the story.
After parting with Tian Ailang, the ten brothers had used their money to buy decent clothes and found work as porters for an escort agency. Their natural strength and desperation for a new life had quickly earned them respect and a solid place there. But a few weeks ago, disaster struck during an escort mission.
“The escorts were all killed, and the cargo and porters captured? And you barely escaped with your brothers' help, searching for aid?”
“Y-Yes, that's right! Young master!”
The Fifth Brother wailed again, tears and snot streaming down. He was the first person to show them true kindness, and now, in this dire moment, their only lifeline.
Song Sogeol, who had been listening quietly, asked, “Were the attackers bandits? Did they shout anything like 'Green Forest'?”
The Fifth Brother shook his head. “No. They wore armor and rode horses.”
With no further details beyond them seeming like soldiers, Song Sogeol stepped up. “Brothers, you head somewhere to rest. I'll gather some intel and report back.”
“Want me to come along?” Chanho offered.
Song Sogeol waved him off. “Nah. Officials get touchy around strangers. I'll go solo.”
Chanho nodded readily. Tian Ailang helped the prostrated Fifth Brother to his feet and said to Song Sogeol, “Alright, thanks. We'll be at the inn. Don't push yourself.”
“Got it, brother.”
Song Sogeol flashed a brief smile and moved off.
* * *
After parting from his sworn brothers, Song Sogeol wound through the city's alleys for a good while before entering a butcher shop marked with a knotted sign reading Ding Wu.
A burly butcher sharpening his cleaver glanced up. “What meat you after? Got some fresh lamb today—cheap too. Take a look.”
Song Sogeol replied flatly, “The ant struggles alone and forms a colony to survive.”
Silence fell over the shop.
“The grasshopper seeks the ant's aid in harsh winter. Who might you be?”
Song Sogeol handed over a small token plaque. The butcher examined it closely, his face shifting to shock as he glanced between it and Song Sogeol. He bowed deeply.
“We of the shadows greet our esteemed guest.”
Song Sogeol waved it off. “Skip the formalities. Tell me everything you know about recent events near Lake Dongting—especially clashes between escorts and soldiers.”
The butcher set down his cleaver, wiped his bloodied hands on his apron, checked the street, and quietly shut the door, hanging a wooden sign reading Closed.
“This way inside.”
Song Sogeol nodded and followed. Behind the shop lay a cool, cave-like space with meat hooks dangling from the ceiling. The butcher navigated between them to a wall ring amid slaughter tools and pulled it.
Clunk-rattle.
A hidden wall slid open, revealing stairs. Without a glance back, the butcher descended. Song Sogeol followed silently.
At the bottom, five people bustled about.
“Hmm. What's all this?”
The butcher twitched his bushy eyebrow. “First time seeing it?”
“Yeah, life's kept me too busy.”
“...Understood. These are our info sorters. See the one at the end fetching slips? They bring shared intel from outposts.”
Song Sogeol nodded. “Hmm... Got it.”
“This way.”
The butcher led past them to another wall, pulling a spot to slide it aside.
Rumble.
“Enter.”
They stepped into a room packed with scrolls and books. Song Sogeol looked around curiously. The butcher pulled bamboo slips from an outer shelf and offered them.
“Latest compilation.”
Song Sogeol read slowly. The rustle of slips turning echoed rhythmically like music.
“Hmm... Knew about the imperial stuff already. What's this about the troops at the end?”
“Imperial remnants routed by the Red Turbans passed near Lake Dongting. Seems some soldiers looted escorts and villages for food and labor.”
Song Sogeol's brow furrowed. “...Go on.”
“Latest intel: Spotted near Hong'an in Hubei yesterday. Probably used the Yangtze for speed. Heading north to Beijing.”
“Continue.”
“Casualties along their path: over a thousand estimated. Escorts, civilians—big numbers. Local offices and minor sects won't touch imperial troops.”
“Bastards! Not soldiers—thieves in uniform!”
Song Sogeol hurled the slips down in fury. The butcher quietly retrieved and shelved them.
“Need more?”
“How many troops?”
“A thousand infantry, two hundred cavalry. But latest says infantry only now—cavalry likely went ahead.”
“Damn them!”
Song Sogeol sighed heavily after venting. “...Enough. Let's head out.”
The butcher led the way, a faint smile on his lips at Song Sogeol's anger. He'd confirmed the rumors about the Rumor Lord, and it stirred his heart. Their sect had scraped every means for coin and secrets, earning quiet disdain. That bred betrayal, hardening the group. Then the Lord declared reform: drag them into the light under the banner of xia, ending scorn for lowborn disciples.
Rumors swirled of the Rumor Lord's influence behind it. If he raged at the deaths of the lowliest, he'd surely embrace their downtrodden kin.
Outside the shop, the butcher bowed to departing Song Sogeol. “We pray for the Rumor Lord's peace and triumph.”
Song Sogeol waved lightly. “Thanks. Prosper in business.”
He vanished into the alleys the way he'd come.
* * *
Under the blood-red sunset, the Peace Inn's room held three tense figures around a table—far from the morning's calm. A man burst in energetically.
“Brothers~”
“Back?”
Tian Ailang pointed to an empty seat.
“Yeah, Ailang brother.”
“Any intel?”
Song Sogeol sat, chin raised smugly to Chanho's question. Chanho smirked. “Struck out, huh?”
Ignoring the jab, Song Sogeol boasted, “Hmph! Who do you think I am? Your little brother, right? Of course I got something.”
He glanced at the dejected Fifth Brother before explaining. “Imperial remnants. Infantry fleeing Red Turbans to Beijing. Needed food and hands, so...”
The Fifth Brother's face darkened further, thoughts on his brothers.
“Over a thousand casualties—escorts and civilians. They're near Hong'an in Hubei now. Cavalry raced ahead.”
“Numbers?” Tian Ailang asked gravely.
“About a thousand infantry.”
“Hmm...”
The room grew heavier. The Fifth Brother sobbed quietly, rescue seeming impossible. Officials had beaten him; martial artists ignored him. Tian Ailang was a miracle, but even he couldn't...
“That's a lot,” Tian Ailang murmured.
“Yeah,” Chanho agreed slowly.
Song Sogeol blinked at their vibe, then squinted. “Brothers... you're not thinking of rescuing his brothers, are you...?”
Tian Ailang scratched his head, then looked around seriously. “I'll go alone and save them.”
Song Sogeol freaked. “What?! Brother, you hearing things?”
“Tsk!” Chanho shot Song Sogeol a cold glare for his tone.
Indignant, Song Sogeol raised his voice. “No, but infantry—a thousand! Remnants or not, imperial troops are trained. Even squad leaders know martial arts!”
Contrasting his panic, Tian Ailang replied calmly. “True. Dangerous, so I'll infiltrate solo.”
“No, brother!” Song Sogeol rarely shouted. “Why always shoulder it alone? That insults us brothers!”
Chanho nodded. “Kid's right for once, Ailang. Your problem is ours.”
Touched, Tian Ailang gathered his thoughts and apologized sincerely. “Sorry. I'll be careful from now on. Straight talk: I want to save this man's brothers—we're connected. No weighing bonds or gains. That's my heart. Can you understand?”
Chanho chuckled, lightly raising his black sword. “Do what you want. No need to overthink. My blade guards you—no reasons needed. Don't worry.”
Song Sogeol pouted at Chanho. “Ugh, you're prickly to me but sweet as a lover to Ailang brother? Ahem! Okay, okay—no sword. Don't get sharp again. Hehe.”
Tian Ailang smiled at Song Sogeol. “Sogeol, you're sharp and full of schemes, right?”
“Naturally. Schemes are my specialty—Zhuge Liang would weep.”
Chanho shook his head at the braggart. That was a sickness.
Tian Ailang grinned. “Then devise a rescue plan.”
Song Sogeol turned serious. “...Last question: You're serious?”
Tian Ailang nodded firmly. “Of course. Even if it seems impossible, I'll follow our little brother's plan.”
A devilish smile flickered on Song Sogeol's lips—or was it imagination? He nodded gravely and asked again. “Brother, it'll mean unavoidable battle with imperial troops.”
“Prepared.”
“And massive killing.”
Tian Ailang's face shadowed briefly, but he replied firmly. “Chanho once said good individuals exist, but not good groups. I know this might be that. But I won't hold back on individual soldiers—don't worry.”
Song Sogeol nodded slowly. “Got it, brother. I'll draw up the plan.”
As Song Sogeol left with a mischievous grin, sweat trickled down Tian Ailang's spine.