Chapter Forty-Five: The Return of Zheng Laotie

In the days that followed, all was calm and uneventful. Every day, Kou Li methodically circulated his vital energy, refining his body. The practice of boxing couldn’t be rushed nor delayed; it required patient accumulation and relentless perseverance over time. This was a test of endurance and willpower, demanding monotonous daily training—missing even a single day would render all previous efforts fruitless.

After another half month, Kou Li noticed a change in his stance training: as his practice sessions lengthened, his strength steadily increased, and he gradually experienced a newfound comfort and pleasure the longer he stood. During this process, unusual phenomena began to occur—a calm and relaxed core, a gentle warmth in his lower abdomen, and a swelling sensation in his limbs. He realized this must be the state Luo Yanzong had described as “proficiency in the standing post,” a stage where the body is refined and restored to a more youthful condition.

The two basic stances of the Boy Pillar—Foundation and Nourishment—are meant to restore one’s spirit to its roots and nurture vital energy back into the self.

“Kou Brother, you smell like milk,” Zheng Xiaobao said, sidling up without him noticing, sniffing the air with her little nose.

“…”

“Really, Kou Brother, smell for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

Kou Li twitched the corner of his mouth, about to say something, when he immediately sensed the difference. After this session, there wasn’t a trace of sweat on his body; he felt cool all over, with a faint, fresh scent—almost like that of a newborn.

He also noticed his skin had improved, his pores nearly vanished, smooth and translucent, and even the minor injuries and cuts from boxing had healed completely.

It was said that after mastering the Infant Pillar, one could lock in their vital energy and restore youthful vigor. Yet almost no one had ever achieved this—regardless of martial prowess, everyone suffered small hidden injuries over the years, not to mention the residual effects of martial training. This was why, whether inner school or outer, by the time one reached their forties, energy would decline and martial skills would rapidly deteriorate.

That’s why even a seasoned fighter would often be bested by a young newcomer—it was from their mouths the saying “fists fear youth” originated.

But with Kou Li’s ability to perceive the minutest details and tend to hidden injuries, he possessed the best possible foundation for mastering the Infant Pillar.

Zheng Bao’er’s curiosity was insatiable—she peered left and right, but at the sound of familiar footsteps, she instantly abandoned Kou Li and dashed outside, calling sweetly, “Sister Su’e, I missed you so much!”

Kou Li felt a headache coming on. What was this girl thinking? It was just a business transaction—was it necessary to stay tangled up until now? Besides, being stared at every day by Yue Wu Huo as if he wanted to kill him was making his life miserable.

“Why are you here again?”

“I came to see Bao’er, not you, Cousin,” Lin Su’e replied bashfully. Why was he like this? Did he really hate seeing her so much? She’d even brought him some pastries.

Kou Li shook his head helplessly. “Is the clinic still the same? Treating the poor every day?”

“Not at all! Our Lin Family’s Baozhi Clinic is an old, reputable establishment. Since reopening, many old patients have returned. We’re planning to apply to the Guangdong Medical Guild to restore our official signboard.”

So, it turned out this woman had been operating without a license—a black-market clinic. As for the Medical Guild, Kou Li had heard of it: a guild formed by major herbal merchants, with official government endorsement. Even in ancient times, one couldn’t just open a clinic at will.

“Here’s a suggestion: prepare some formula medicines.”

“What are formula medicines?” Lin Su’e asked curiously.

“It’s just mixing common prescriptions for ordinary illnesses in advance, then selling them directly. The poor coastal families always get the same kinds of sickness—diarrhea, rheumatism, roundworms, typhoid. This way, you won’t have to exhaust yourself seeing every case personally. Just look at those dark circles under your eyes—aren’t you afraid of dying young? I’m talking to you!” Kou Li leaned closer before Lin Su’e finally snapped back to attention, her face flushing bright red.

“I-I heard you! Formula—what formula again?” she stammered.

“You deserve to be exhausted,” Kou Li muttered, rolling his eyes and wanting nothing more to do with her.

“But… your face looks much fairer recently,” Lin Su’e murmured, embarrassed to admit she’d been staring for a while. Compared to their first meeting, he seemed far more handsome—pale and striking, like a scholar from the southern provinces in a storybook.

What she didn’t know was that Kou Li truly was a scholar from the south.

At the age when young goddesses awaken to romance, what harm in a few more glances at a handsome man during her good deeds?

“I—I…” Every time Kou Li encountered her lately, he had the impulse to smack her with a brick; today was no exception.

There’s truth in the saying: the more beautiful the woman, the less she uses her wits—it fit her perfectly.

“So lacking in charm,” an elderly voice suddenly interjected.

“Who’s there?”

A gust of wind swept by. Kou Li, as startled as a wildcat with its tail stepped on, snapped to alertness, his hands forming a grip, joints cracking. As he rubbed his hands together, the sound of metal scraping echoed; before he could stamp his foot to unleash his energy, a tiger’s roar echoed from his core, and as he gathered his strength, the iron spear that had been thrust at him shot back like lightning.

“Don’t be rude to your elders, Eighth,” Master Lin Xian said cheerfully. That iron spear was somehow already in his hand, all its momentum easily neutralized without a sound.

Zheng Xiaobao burst into tears, calling, “Grandpa, Grandpa!”

Standing beside Lin Xian was a disheveled old man—who else could it be but Zheng Laotie, whose fate had been unknown for so long?

“My good grandchild, Grandpa missed you so much!” Zheng Laotie’s eyes grew moist as he embraced his grandson. Then he turned to Kou Li in amazement. “Strength stored without effort, force released without intention—your power is self-sustaining. Old as I am, I’m starting to believe you really ate some celestial herb.”

Kou Li glanced at the man’s right hand, now missing two fingers, and smirked. “Old but not dead—what a rascal you are.”

Grandfather and grandson had endless words to share, and with only the three of them left, everyone else was sent away. Watching Bao’er laugh and cry, Kou Li shook his head. “It’s been half a year. If you weren’t dead, you could have at least sent word. Your grandson’s been so worried he can’t sleep.”

“As if I had any choice,” Zheng Laotie grumbled. “Traitors inside, enemies outside, and schemers stirring trouble from the shadows. Sure enough, the moment I was gone, all the bastards crawled out of the woodwork.”

“So it was a faked death. No wonder your iron spear—” Kou Li glanced at Zheng Bao’er but didn’t finish the thought.

“Did you tie up all the loose ends?”

“Of course. Why do you think Master Lin left the clinic a few days ago? Those idiots truly thought an old hand like me would get caught so easily. But I hadn’t expected so much rot inside the martial school,” Zheng Laotie’s expression darkened.

Kou Li replied evenly, “The accomplices—I left some crippled, others disabled. As for the ringleader, Lu Tiansheng, he won’t live much longer.”

“A younger brother gets beaten, of course the elder must stand up for him. No reason for you, old and frail, to go out and shout at people—no point in lowering your dignity.”

Zheng Laotie stared at him for a long while before sighing, “I owe you another debt.”

“Then repay it. I need a set of boxing forms—preferably an ancient style.”

Now familiar with their benefits, Kou Li was eager for more.

“Pfft!” Zheng Laotie spat out his tea in shock. “Are you crazy? A whole set of boxing forms, and ancient ones at that? There are barely a few left in all of history! Where am I supposed to find that? I thought you didn’t practice martial arts—why the sudden change?”

“People change. But debts must be repaid—that never changes. I hear you’re well-connected in southern Henan. If you can’t even handle this, maybe your reputation really is overrated.”

“Don’t try to provoke me,” Zheng Laotie rolled his eyes. “I’ll do what I can. Back in the day, Luohan Temple had a few styles, but after a fire, who knows what’s left.”

Luohan Temple—Kou Li’s mind stirred. That old man, Jiao Ye, had mentioned something similar. “What’s the story with Luohan Temple? Why haven’t I heard of it?”

“Because it’s gone. They tried to build up their forces and plotted rebellion, so the court torched the temple. Most southern boxing styles, especially in Fujian and Zhejiang, bear traces of the temple’s thirty-six arts. But enough of that. I’ll do what I can,” Zheng Laotie said, waving his hand, his enthusiasm waning.

Kou Li frowned. “That’s not my concern. But there’s one thing you must tell me the truth about—the Water Dragon Gang’s roster. What’s the story there?”

Everything Kou Li had experienced in the past half year stemmed from that roster, but the truth was, he had never touched it. At this point, the only one who might know was the old man before him.

“Well…” Zheng Laotie’s face turned awkward. “A misunderstanding—all just a misunderstanding.”

“Was it your doing?”

“Well, you could put it that way. But I swear, it was never intentional!”