Between the two groups, two bare-handed youths were sparring with fists and kicks. One was plump in build but solid on his feet, each punch and kick powerful and forceful—none other than Wang Dapang, an old friend of Han Li's. Despite his rotund figure, Wang Dapang was no weak fighter. With each shout, his punches whipped up gusts of wind, making him quite the imposing sight. The other was a short, nimble fellow who moved like a quick rat. He didn't bother blocking Wang Dapang's fists at all, only ducking and dodging persistently, seemingly trying to exhaust Wang Dapang's strength before launching a devastating counterattack.
Seeing his friend up there trading blows, Han Li naturally rooted for him.
After watching for a while, he noticed that Wang Dapang was still maintaining his fierce momentum. Though Han Li knew nothing about martial arts, he could tell that Wang Dapang wouldn't be losing anytime soon, so he relaxed.
He glanced around, wanting to find someone to ask what was going on.
Not far from his tree, beside a rock, he spotted a youth watching the fight while gesturing with his hands, muttering under his breath: "Hit him in the head! Kick his waist! Oh! So close! Yes, yes—kick his rear end, harder!"
The youth narrated with relish, eyes bright with excitement.
From the sound of it, he was clearly on Wang Dapang's side.
Han Li found the fellow amusing, so he slowly climbed down from the tree and walked over.
"Senior Brother, do you know everyone fighting up there? Why are they brawling?" Han Li asked with an earnest, honest-looking face.
"Is that even a question? Is there anyone I, Little Abacus, don't know? They're obviously fighting because—hey! Who are you? I've never seen you before. A new recruit? No, that can't be right—new disciples won't enter for another half year or so. Who exactly are you?" The youth had been about to answer in a half-dazed manner, but suddenly realized he'd never laid eyes on Han Li before and immediately snapped to alertness.
"My name is Han Li. I'm a friend of that ferocious fighter up there, Wang Dapang," Han Li replied with a perfectly straight face.
"Wang Dapang's friend? I know all his friends—I don't know you!" The youth remained wary.
"Oh, I've been in seclusion somewhere these past few years and haven't come out for a long time. It's only natural you wouldn't recognize me," Han Li said, half-truthfully.
"Is that so? You're one of the disciples who entered four years ago? I really didn't think there was anyone in the sect that I, the all-knowing, hadn't met." The youth glanced at the clothes Han Li was wearing and seemed to accept his explanation.
The youth chatted with Han Li for a few more minutes, then couldn't help but volunteer the full story behind the fight on his own.
"Junior Brother, you have no idea—this whole mess was caused by a woman's beauty. It all started when—" True to his self-proclaimed title of "Little Abacus," the know-it-all recounted every last detail of the affair's origins.
It turned out the story hinged on two people: Wang Yang, Wang Dapang's cousin, and Zhang Changgui, the son of a money shop owner. Both were disciples of the Seven Mysteries Sect—one an Outer Sect disciple, the other an Inner Sect disciple.
Though the two lived in the same town, their paths would never have crossed. Everything hinged on a girl from another town, who had been promised to Wang Yang since childhood. But recently, while out on an errand, the girl caught the eye of Young Master Zhang on his way home. Under Young Master Zhang's relentless financial onslaught, the girl and her parents all capitulated. Her betrothal was reassigned to Zhang Changgui, and Wang Yang's bride price was returned. The girl's family, who despised poverty and chased wealth, broke their promise—and the devastating news hit Wang Yang hard. He had long been infatuated with the girl, and upon learning the truth, he wailed and threatened death day after day. In the end, he truly couldn't let go and threw himself into a river.
That should have been the end of it—a tragic tale, finished and done.
But Wang Dapang had been close to his cousin since childhood. Upon hearing what happened, he refused to let it rest. He tracked down Zhang Changgui and demanded a duel, with the loser pouring tea, bowing, and kowtowing in apology.
Zhang Changgui was proud and arrogant, but he knew his martial arts fell slightly short of Wang Dapang's. So he proposed that friends could also participate, fighting multiple rounds with the overall result deciding the winner. Wang Dapang agreed without hesitation. Zhang Changgui then exploited his deep pockets, showering silver everywhere to recruit skilled fighters among the wealthy disciples. Wang Dapang, though poor, was well-connected within the sect. He had many friends among the lower and middle ranks, and plenty of capable fighters volunteered to help him of their own accord.
As word of the duel spread, even more disciples came to watch and cheer, forming two clearly opposed camps bristling with hostility.
From the youth's tone, Han Li gathered that tensions between the wealthy disciples and those from humbler backgrounds had only grown worse.
A single duel had drawn this massive crowd of spectators and supporters.
"You're on Wang Dapang's side too, right? If those rich kids break the rules, we'll rush in together and beat them so hard they'll crap their pants—teach them never to bully us again!" The youth's mouth hadn't stopped running from the very beginning.
Han Li smiled bitterly. What did this rivalry between the two factions have to do with him? It was hard to say who was right and who was wrong here. After years of practicing breathing exercises and meditation, his old hot-blooded impulses had long since worn away. Besides, he had never trained in any martial arts—not fists, not weapons. There was absolutely no way he could defeat any ordinary fellow disciple. Once the fights were over, he would simply head back to the valley like a good boy.
"Yes!" The youth suddenly cried out in delight.
Han Li quickly turned to look at the field. Wang Dapang's opponent had finally failed to dodge in time and caught one of Wang Dapang's massive fists square on the forehead, collapsing unconscious to the ground.
Half the crowd erupted in cheers, while the other half's faces turned grim.
Wang Dapang beamed with pride, cupped his fists toward the surrounding crowd, then waddled back to his own side with his large rear end swaying, every trace of his earlier ferocity completely gone.
From Zhang Changgui's side, two people stepped forward and dragged the unconscious disciple back.
Then one person from each side emerged again—one carrying a saber, the other a sword.
Both seemed to be hot-tempered. Without a word, they raised their weapons and clashed with a shower of sparks and ringing steel.
(End of chapter)