Chapter Ten: Return It

The young attendant was swift in bringing the wine, and four jars of fine spirits arrived in an instant. Though smaller than the original ten, they were far more elegant in appearance.

Before the man in the blue robe could ask, Shen Lian spoke up:

“In late spring’s third month, sheep rejoice as grass grows tall.
When the world is frozen, who will feed the wolves?
Hearts of men pity the sheep; the wolf’s heart remains alone.
Heaven’s will is hard to fathom, the ways of the world as cold as frost!”

Shen Lian spoke slowly, while the man in the blue robe drank with remarkable speed. As Shen Lian said, “In late spring’s third month, sheep rejoice as grass grows tall,” the blue-robed man drained the first jar. When he spoke, “When the world is frozen, who will feed the wolves?” the second jar was emptied almost as the words left Shen Lian’s lips. Shen Lian, quickening his pace for “Hearts of men pity the sheep; the wolf’s heart remains alone,” still could not finish before the blue-robed man had emptied the third jar—again, words ended as wine was gone.

For the final line, “Heaven’s will is hard to fathom, the ways of the world as cold as frost,” Shen Lian could have spoken faster, making things difficult for the blue-robed man, but instead slowed his speech, uttering each word deliberately. The blue-robed man matched him, drinking in measured sips. As Shen Lian finished, the blue-robed man had just drained the fourth jar.

Even if not a thousand cups, these four jars amounted to several hundred, their flavor pure and their strength formidable. Even the most seasoned drinkers would be inebriated after four jars in succession. Yet the blue-robed man’s expression did not change; his eyes were still bright, like stars in the night sky.

He spoke: “Well done, young man. You invited me to this meal without judging me by common standards. I admire your boldness, but I do not accept your favor. You must know, in the vast prefecture of Qingzhou, there is no one worthy of inviting me to dine.”

Shen Lian was silent, awaiting the man’s next words, thinking to himself: This man is indeed proud; without extraordinary skill, he would not have survived.

The blue-robed man continued: “Your line ‘Hearts of men pity the sheep; the wolf’s heart remains alone’ suits me well. Yet still, I do not accept your favor.”

Shen Lian smiled: “Perhaps because I slowed my speech for the last two lines, you need not rush to drink. For this, you should thank me.”

“Indeed. Though I am ruthless and unforgivable, these are not my faults. Only one thing is—my excessive pride. This wine is excellent, its strength lingering. Had I rushed the last jar, my internal energy would have been thrown into disorder. Normally, it wouldn’t matter, but tonight, some petty thieves intend to settle scores with me. I must take my newly recruited servant and fight my way out. I cannot afford any slip.”

Shen Lian replied calmly, “If I had recited the last two lines quickly, what then?”

“I could still finish the jar before you finished speaking, using internal martial arts to force the wine down. But afterward, I would take your head.”

He spoke with absolute certainty, glancing—whether by intent or not—at the two Shen family guards who had come along, regarding them as mere weeds, utterly contemptuous.

The two guards slammed the table in outrage. “If you dare harm our young master, you won’t leave this inn alive!”

They could no longer keep silent. Their duty was to protect Shen Lian’s safety; had Shen Lian’s father learned someone dared utter such threats and they did nothing, they would be considered useless. Even if Shen Lian blamed them, they would make sure this man knew his place.

As they spoke, both stepped forward, fists raised, voices booming. Anyone trained in boxing knew the value of a punch that echoed. The sound was not from the wind, but from the bones resonating—a sign that their strength was concentrated in each blow, forceful and swift, difficult to defend, and proof that their external martial arts had reached a high level.

Though Shen Lian knew nothing of martial arts, his keen eye missed nothing. The guards’ punches, in this moment, united all their strength. Both were robust, muscular, and their footing steady, like archers drawing a bow. Their fists targeted the blue-robed man’s ribs and shoulder, coordinated and precise, showing they had long practiced together.

The blue-robed man sneered, unhurried. He reached out, grabbed the fist aimed at his shoulder with ease, pulled downward, and a sharp crack rang out.

The guards’ fists collided, shattering their hand bones.

With a gentle push, the blue-robed man sent them flying like cotton, crashing through tables and chairs, terrifying the other guests into silence.

Both guards, it was clear, would not survive.

Shen Lian’s eyelids flickered. Despite his composure, witnessing such brutality could not help but shake him.

The blue-robed man seemed to have swatted two flies, utterly unconcerned. He picked up his chopsticks and took another bite.

The innkeeper and the attendant clung to each other, trembling.

Shen Lian stared intently at the blue-robed man, saying nothing.

The blue-robed man set down his chopsticks, meeting Shen Lian’s gaze openly. “A disgraced master, loyal servants die. Their deaths are fitting. Families like yours can afford burial expenses—so you should let it go.”

“A life is a life, how can one simply let it go? You treat life as worthless; I cherish it, whether another’s or my own—most people have but one.”

“So what will you do?”

“You owe me a favor, do you not?”

“I do.”

“Return it,” Shen Lian said, unwavering as stone.

The blue-robed man’s eyes flashed, sharp as a blade seeking to cleave Shen Lian apart.

Shen Lian stood fearless, calm in heart and spirit. There was nothing to gain from this, yet he did it regardless. He could refuse the elder Shen’s rewards, simply to avoid being a tool. He could stand up for two humble guards, simply because he was human, not a cold stone.

The blue-robed man remembered his late master, who once told him: “There are people in this world who possess no overwhelming strength, no absolute logic, but possess a spirit so extraordinary that they create miracles.”

He once asked his master if he was such a person. His master said he was not, and so he could not create miracles, nor ever find the gate to immortality.

Shen Lian was calm—not a facade, but a tranquility rooted in his soul.

Even though, in the blue-robed man’s mind, his strength far surpassed Shen Lian’s, and killing him would be as easy as crushing an ant, he could not ignore Shen Lian’s steady gaze, nor understand what Shen Lian relied upon to dare such a thing—merely that elusive spirit.

Yet the blue-robed man had spoken truly; “Ruthless and unforgivable, these are not faults—only excessive pride, and that is a flaw.”

So the blue-robed man said nothing more. He struck his chest with his palm, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, which he did not wipe away. He said quietly, “Now, your favor is repaid.”