Chapter 18 - Old Friends (Patreon)

Li Feng wasn’t trying particularly hard to keep the distaste from his expression as he moved through the slums towards his destination.

Why his old friend had decided to open a clinic here, of all places, was beyond him. Oh, certainly, there were plenty of people who needed help living here, but there were people needing help living everywhere – notably, in places that didn’t smell like something had died a few weeks ago.

Then again, Lao Yi – or whatever he was calling himself these days – was awfully fond of his little games. He probably wouldn’t appreciate Feng dropping by quite so obviously, but he couldn’t be bothered waiting for their usual catch-ups. 

After all, it wasn’t every day the Butcher of Yùchéng decided to take on an apprentice.

Feng manfully resisted the urge to sigh in despair as he arrived at the clinic. He understood the value of blending in, certainly, but at what cost? He wasn’t sure what was worse – the peeling paint, the faint aroma of urine drifting from the back alleyway, or the obviously poorly written sign.

Lao Yi’s calligraphy had once driven the jade beauties of the Seven Peaks Sect to tears, such was its perfection. To see his old friend deliberately mangle his writing just to fit in was almost physically painful.

Which was probably the point, actually. He could imagine the smug little cackle already.

Despite himself, his eyes softened. It was… good that Lao Yi could still take joy in the little things, even if it was occasionally at his expense. 

He pushed through the dilapidated door, which notably didn’t creak the way a door in it’s condition should. A minor detail, perhaps, but he had built an empire off exploiting such minor details. 

The inside of the clinic was better than the outside, but only by a little. There was a fairly large open room with a bare wooden table in the centre – possibly for examining patients – and a few shelves of various medicines and remedies. He was no healer, but he’d spent enough time injured on battlefields to recognise a few blood-clotters and a couple of choice stimulants.

It was just like his old friend to go to all the effort of working out of this barely-functional building to sell the story of a poor old man, only to turn around and use shockingly expensive battlefield potions.

Granted, the odds of someone living in the slums recognising them for what they were were slim to none, but still. It rankled his professional pride a little to see such sloppy details in a cover story like this.

There was a boy hunched over a scroll on a small side table in the corner who looked up as he entered. Family of a patient, perhaps?

“Can I help you?” the boy asked, his tone polite but guarded.

Feng blinked, re-evaluating. Surely, this couldn’t be the apprentice, could it? 

“I’m here to see Lao Yi,” he replied, his voice deep and commanding in a way that had taken him years of practice to achieve. “Is he available?”

The boy nodded slowly, clearly a little uncertain about what a man like him would be doing in a back-end clinic when he was obviously uninjured. 

Good instincts.

“He’s in the back room. I’ll go get him.”

“No need, my apprentice!” came the cheerful voice of his friend from the back room. “In fact, why don’t you head on home early? It’s been a quiet day, and I’m sure that you would find our conversation quite boring.” 

The boy hesitated, glancing towards the back. Concern for his master, or curiosity? Something flashed behind the boy’s eyes for a moment, and Feng narrowed his eyes. That looked like suspicion, which was odd. One would think a child of his age wouldn’t be aware enough to catch any discrepancies in Lao Yi’s story.

The old man might enjoy playing jokes, but he was far too experienced to let himself make stupid mistakes.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Despite himself, Feng found his curiosity roused. His men had looked into the boy’s past a little – nothing exciting, just a note that he had entered the city a few months ago with his mother, who was caught up in a cultivator attack. Nothing to indicate he was the kind of person to be suspicious of good fortune.

Most children – hell, most adults – were the type to accept good fortune and not look back. It was something he had always found fascinating, the notion that people could belive that the universe owed them something and just take it for granted. It took long, painful experience for someone to be suspicious or paranoid about anything good happening to them.

Really, this kid was getting more and more interesting. Still not enough to explain why Lao Yi of all people had accepted a student, but enough that he would be getting some of his men to look into the matter further.

Everyone needed a hobby, after all, and his just happened to be gathering information. It had served him well over the years.

Despite his apparent suspicion, the boy was polite enough to leave without trying to kick up a fuss, and Feng was almost disappointed when he didn’t even try sneaking around the back to listen in. It wouldn’t have worked, of course, but still.

Now alone, Feng pushed through the door to the back room. It was, if anything, in even worse condition than the front room. The benches were cluttered with random herbs and tonics, and scrolls were splayed over every available surface.

He tried to keep his grimace subtle, but he knew that the troublesome old man had spotted it anyway. He’d always hated clutter and mess, and even now his fingers twitched with the urge to start cleaning things up.

“Li Feng, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lao Yi greeted, his voice carrying that familiar lilt of humour that always seemed to undercut his words. “Or could it be that you simply miss this old man so much that you couldn’t wait to catch up?”

Smug bastard.

Feng sat across from him, folding his arms and dispensing with formalities. “You know why I’m here. It’s not every day I hear the Butcher of Yùchéng has taken on an apprentice.”

Lao Yi chuckled, a deep, genuine sound that made Feng’s lips twitch despite himself. “Butcher of Yùchéng,” he repeated, shaking his head. “That title always did sound so dramatic. But yes, young Zhujiao is my apprentice. He shows great potential.”

“Potential for what, exactly?” Feng asked, leaning forward slightly. “What are you playing at, old friend?”

Lao Yi’s eyes twinkled with a secret. “I’m merely teaching the boy the ways of healing. It’s a useful skill, wouldn’t you agree?”

Feng’s gaze didn’t waver. “You know what I mean. You don’t just take on apprentices. What’s so special about this one?”

For a moment, Lao Yi didn’t answer, simply studying his friend. “He has a fire in him,” he said finally. “A spark that’s rare to find. He’s been through much, and yet, he perseveres.”

Feng raised an eyebrow. “So he’s resilient. There are plenty of resilient children in these slums. Why him?”

Lao Yi’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps I see a bit of myself in him. Or maybe I’m simply bored and in need of a distraction.”

He slumped back into his chair, rolling his eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. You know I hate this whole mysterious act.”

His old friend laughed again. “Ah, but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm! No, no, don’t give me that expression, I’ll tell you. Though you might find the answer a little disappointing.”

Lao Yi paused to take a long slurp of his tea, sighing in dramatic satisfaction. Feng was reminded why they met up so infrequently – good friend Lao Yi might be, but he was also an unrepentant prick that had once mouthed off to the Emperor himself. Nobody could get him to do anything he didn’t want to, and if he wasn’t so powerful someone would have turned him into a smear on the ground from sheer frustration.

“To be completely honest, it’s a coincidence,” he finally chirped, waving a hand before Feng’s irritation could turn into actual anger. “No, no, I’m serious. I have an arranged with the matron of that orphanage – you know the one – to send any promising children my way if they need work. Of course, most don’t last longer than a day or two, but still.”

That… made sense, in a distant sort of way. He didn’t precisely understand why Lao Yi would want to have a bunch of random children semi-periodically running around his clinic on the off chance one of them would be decent enough to bother paying, but then he’d never claimed to understand how his old friend’s mind worked.

“Young Zhujiao, however, was a little more determined than most. I gave him a solid week of the worst, most random jobs I could come up with. Like, do you remember how Kanhu used to get the conscripts to sweep a random patch of dirt for so long they ended up digging holes?”

Feng snorted despite himself. He’d been one of those conscripts, after all.

“Right?” Lao Yi chuckled, “Utterly miserable work. Zhujiao just stuck at it though, didn’t even complain when I barely paid him. But that’s not the most interesting part, no, the interesting part is his dantian.”

“His what?”

“His dantian, Feng. His energy centre. The boy has an odd one. It’s obvious he has some kind of cultivation talent, but he also clearly has no idea what he’s doing. When I examined him more closely, I found his channels were scarred in a way that should have killed him. But he survived.”

Feng sighed, exasperated. “You know I don’t understand any of that cultivator stuff. Judging by the tone of your voice, I’m assuming that the boy’s talent for not dying is notable in some way?”

Lao Yi laughed. “In a manner of speaking, yes. It’s like…” he waved his hands around, trying to come up with a good metaphor. “It’s like if you saw someone who had lost both of their eyes but could still see anyway. It shouldn’t be possible – I’ve seen scarring like that before, plenty of times even, but only ever on corpses.”

Feng frowned, not quite following but intrigued nonetheless. 

“But more than that, he has a very… strange foundation,” Lao Yi continued. “It’s almost as if he’s tried to break through to the first stage but didn’t know what he was doing. His dantian is far larger and more robust than any I’ve seen, at least at his stage, but he hasn’t done anything with it.”

His old friend took another sip of his tea, looking more alive than he’d been in years.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been trying to do things based on stories, which does occasionally happen. Even more unusual, though, is that he’s only twelve.”

“… And that’s unusual why?” Feng asked after a moment. His old friend sometimes forgot that he had no background when it came to this stuff. The only things he cared to know about most cultivators was how powerful they were, and what their weaknesses were.

Lao Yi huffed. “It’s unusual because most cultivator children can’t even access their Qi until they’re at least fifteen. And if I had to guess, young Zhujiao’s been doing it for years. He’s a fascinating conundrum, that boy.”

Feng studied his friend’s face, seeing the spark of curiosity there. Despite all the games and mysteries, Lao Yi was serious about this. And that was enough for him.

“Well, I’m happy you’ve found yourself a project,” he settled on. “Knowing you, I almost feel sorry for the poor boy. I imagine you’re already tormenting him?”

“Of course!” Lao Yi laughed. “I let my Qi mask slip a little, just enough to get his attention. The look on his face was priceless, Feng. He’s been freaking out about it ever since. It’s been rather entertaining.”

Feng couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. “Some things never change. But aside from your new entertainment, is everything else going well?”

Lao Yi’s expression darkened slightly. “For the most part, yes. Though some of the local gangs have been getting a little uppity. They seem to think they can renegotiate our agreement.”

Feng’s brow furrowed. “The Red Talons, wasn’t it? I thought they were just storing things for you?”

“They are, yes. But now they want me to pay them more ‘protection money’ to make sure my goods don’t suffer an ‘unfortunate accident’. It’s mostly just a few inflated egos needing a reminder of their place, really.”

Feng’s eyes narrowed. “Do you need me to talk to them? Make sure they understand the terms of your arrangement?”

Lao Yi waved a hand dismissively. “No, no. I can handle them fine. Besides, I’d rather not have you get involved directly – as far as they know, I’m just an old man, so calling you in would be a little dramatic.”

Feng nodded, understanding the notion even if he might not agree with it. “Very well. Just let me know if you need anything. You know I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you, Feng,” Lao Yi said, his voice sincere. “Your support means more than you know.”

Feng waved him off, a little uncomfortable with the compliment. With the matter of the gangs set aside, the conversation turned to other, lighter topics. But Feng couldn’t quite shake his curiosity about Lao Yi’s new apprentice. 

Perhaps… yes, perhaps he would do a little investigating of his own. 

After all, even if being a healer didn’t work out for the boy, by all accounts he was a clever lad, and the crown could always use clever servants.