Chapter 9

"Uncle Ding, tell me about the old man at home!"

This new life was all well and good, but the only downside was that he now had a father, which made Yang Meng feel a bit uncomfortable.

"The old man? It's good to talk about him. Our old man is no ordinary figure. In Yunnan, his name is well-known. He's called 'Yang Shiqin, the Ten Thousand Buddha of Kunming,' and who doesn't know him?"

When Uncle Ding mentioned his elder brother, he became even more enthusiastic. The name "Ten Thousand Buddha of Kunming" made many of the knife-wielding men in the horse team stand up straighter.

"Ten Thousand Buddha? Is that a nickname?"

In his previous life, Yang Meng didn't believe in ghosts or gods, but the people in Myanmar and Thailand often used the names of various Buddhas to build their reputations. Now, with a chance to live again, he had developed a sense of reverence for the divine. Actions have consequences, and one must always be mindful of them.

"Nickname? You underestimate the old man. This title was given by the people of all ethnic groups in Yunnan. Our old man spends hundreds of thousands of taels of silver each year on disaster relief. In years of major disasters, he spends even more. Over the past decade, countless people of all ethnic groups have survived famines thanks to his benevolence. Not to mention the bridges he has built, the roads he has repaired, and the temples he has donated to. The title 'Ten Thousand Buddha' is built on mountains of gold and seas of silver."

Ding Baojun was excited as he spoke, and Yang Meng secretly marveled at the old man's methods. He didn't know much about the old man, but he knew why he had donated schools in the past. Wasn't it to ease his conscience after so many killings? Yang Meng understood this deeply. The title 'Ten Thousand Buddha' of the Yang family must have been built on mountains of gold and seas of silver, but also on mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

However, this was his own old man, and these matters couldn't be discussed in front of outsiders. Donating mountains of gold and seas of silver was one thing, but the rest would have to be explored gradually.

"Is our family a legacy from our ancestors, or did the old man build it himself?"

Yang Meng's question was insightful. If it was a legacy from ancestors, it would be easier to explain. But if the old man had built it himself, that would be impressive.

"Built! Good! You used the right word. Our old man built it himself. When we brothers came to Yunnan with our elder brother, we only had knives and horses. Our elder brother married the daughter of a tea merchant in Yunnan, and after more than twenty years of hard work, we became the Yang family of Kunming, known throughout the south."

Well, knives and horses—definitely not a legitimate way to make a fortune. Marrying the daughter of a tea merchant and becoming wealthy in twenty years—this was clearly a case of 'whitewashing.'

Considering the Yang family's style, who could have a household with three hundred knife-wielding men? These men, riding short horses, moved with great agility, clearly trained. Their attire was suitable for fighting, with a waist knife and a long-handled saber or some other weapon. Yang Meng could sense that these men were seasoned in battle.

In his past, he had been a mercenary in Southeast Asia for several years, fighting in wars and establishing a foothold in the Golden Triangle. His own old man was definitely not from a good background, and his business was probably not just trade.

"Uncle Ding, is my martial arts also a family tradition?"

Yang Meng had reviewed his memories. The martial arts he learned were called 'Yangzu Neijia' and 'Yangzu Waimen.'

"That's the real thing passed down from Yangzu. 'Yangzu Neijia' is the authentic internal martial arts of Wudang, while 'Yangzu Waimen' is from the same school as the Bajiquan of the Zhili region. Our ancestor, Yang Rulai, exchanged techniques with a master in Zhili when he went down the mountain to spread the teachings."

Yang Meng's head started to hurt. With all the talk of Yangzu and spreading teachings, was the Yang family part of the White Lotus Sect? He knew from TV and movies that the White Lotus Sect was a significant force during the Qing Dynasty.

"Is our family still part of a sect?"

Yang Meng asked nervously. He didn't want to get involved in rebellion in this new life. Besides, he knew that the Qing Dynasty was followed by the Republic of China, and the White Lotus Sect wouldn't last.

"In a sect? Oh... yes, we are in a sect, the Li Sect, also known as the Li Jiao. It promotes abstinence from smoking and drinking and helping those in need. It's a good sect. Our old man went to Guangzhou five or six years ago and worked with Lin Zexu. However, the Qing soldiers were too weak and were defeated by the English. Seeing no hope, the old man brought his men back. We banned opium in Guangdong, but the Qing government and soldiers were too weak and signed a treaty with the English, allowing them to trade in China. These English are not good people; they sell opium."

Lin Zexu? Opium prohibition? English? Yang Meng was thoroughly confused by what Old Ding said. From his words, it seemed that the opium trade had only started in the past five or six years.

Wait, opium prohibition, Lin Zexu—wasn't this the Lin Zexu who destroyed opium at Humen? Yang Meng knew this, but the details had been lost over time.

"Who is Lin Zexu? What are the English?"

The conversation was getting more and more convoluted, but Yang Meng didn't mind. He might as well ask.

"Lin Zexu is also known as Lin Yihao, and he was the teacher of your second brother, Yang Yi. When the old man took the elder and second brothers to Guangzhou, they met Lin Zexu during the opium prohibition. The old man helped with the opium ban, and they became acquainted. Lin Zexu called the old man a righteous man, and the old man respected Lin Zexu, sending the second brother to study with him. But in my opinion, it's all nonsense. The English defeated countless Qing soldiers with just a thousand men. What good is studying?"

Ding Baojun became more and more agitated as he spoke, clearly having been involved in the opium destruction at Humen. The so-called 'English' were the British, and Yang Meng was also confused by Old Ding's explanation.

By this point, Old Ding no longer had the air of a major family's steward; he seemed more like a bandit. Yang Meng had a rough idea of his family's origins. The old man's methods were definitely not legitimate, and his involvement in the opium ban in Guangdong was likely an opportunity he saw and seized.

As for whether he profited from it, it was unknown. Sending the second brother to study with Lin Zexu was clearly a form of political and business collusion. If the second brother could become an official, the Yang family would be completely 'whitewashed.' The old man's methods were indeed clever.

Ding Baojun was telling the story, and Yang Meng was trying to uncover the hidden truths behind it. The story sounded noble, but the actions might not have been.

"Uncle Ding, let's talk more about the old man. How did he come to Yunnan?"

Hearing too much about the past was pointless. The most important thing now was to understand the old man. The 'initiation' needed the old man's approval, not just Old Ding's.

"Ah... the old man took a wrong path in the past, but I won't go into details. We met the old man during that time. Some people had grand ambitions and wanted to achieve everything at once, but that's not possible. Because of disagreements, we split up, and the old man brought us to Yunnan, where we started our hard work."

Old Ding spoke in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard.

"White Lotus Sect?"

Yang Meng asked softly.

"Something like that, the Tianli Sect. They weren't capable and all died in Beijing. Don't talk about this."

Old Ding spoke in a low voice and looked around, afraid of being overheard.

"Is the Li Jiao and Yangzu real?"

"This is real. Our family is from Shandong, and we are direct descendants of Yangzu, not just disciples. The old man joined the Tianli Sect because of this, but it wasn't what he expected, so he left. Just listen to this, don't spread it, or there will be trouble."

Old Ding finished speaking and went to check on the horse team, leaving Yang Meng alone on the cart, deep in thought.

This new father was quite a character. He joined a cult, left, and came to Yunnan, where he built a large fortune and spent a fortune to build a good reputation. How did this all fit together?

Yang Meng was lost in thought as the horse team slowly moved forward. The road was not easy, and it was pitch black by the time they reached the outskirts of Kunming.

"Third Master, it's too late. Entering the city now would cause too much commotion. Let's rest at Wuzhuang for the night."

After all this time, it seemed they wouldn't see the old man tonight. They would try again tomorrow.

"Sure! In Kunming, we'll follow Uncle Ding's lead."

Yang Meng didn't mind. He still had many things to sort out, and it didn't matter where he rested.

The group didn't enter the city but went straight to the Yang family's Wuzhuang. Upon arrival, they found that the old man, Yang Shiqin, was also there, having gathered over a thousand knife-wielding men to go to Yiliang.

"Brother! Great news! Third Master has come to his senses!"

Old Ding shouted and galloped to Wuzhuang to report the good news, leaving Yang Meng and his group standing outside the gate.

Soon, a bearded man ran out. As he reached the gate, he tripped on his robe and almost fell. He had good reflexes and managed to steady himself with a loud shout.

"Xingdou!"

He steadied himself and reached out to touch Yang Meng, his movements cautious and no longer as commanding as before.

Yang Meng was confused. Wasn't his name Yang Meng? Why was he called Xingdou? Was it a nickname?

"Ah... I was confused too. You've been in a daze for sixteen years, not knowing your own name. Come on, Third Master!"

This bearded man looked good and had impressed Yang Meng with his actions. He had to acknowledge this father, as he was in the body of the old man's son. However, even after several deep breaths, he found it hard to say the word.

"Father..."

It was a weak, almost inaudible whisper, and it took a lot of effort for Yang Meng to say it. Recognizing a father was a one-time thing.

"Ah..."

Yang Shiqin responded and sat down on the stone steps, his mouth trembling, and he began to cry like a child. Sixteen years! Sixteen years of teaching martial arts and changing diapers, and now he had finally achieved his goal.

"Tell me about the master. I'll send people to find him, search all of Yunnan, and build a temple to honor him."

Under Old Ding's persuasion, Yang Shiqin stopped crying and grabbed Yang Meng's hand, eagerly asking about the master.

"Let go, let go, you're hurting me!"

This time, it was Yang Meng's turn to suffer. The 'Ten Thousand Buddha' had a strong grip, and in his excitement, he almost broke Yang Meng's hand. On the cart, Yang Meng's hand could crush beans, but it was no match for the old man.

"Ah..."

Yang Shiqin responded and sat down on the stone steps, his mouth trembling, and he began to cry like a child. Sixteen years! Sixteen years of teaching martial arts and changing diapers, and now he had finally achieved his goal.

"Tell me about the master. I'll send people to find him, search all of Yunnan, and build a temple to honor him."

Under Old Ding's persuasion, Yang Shiqin stopped crying and grabbed Yang Meng's hand, eagerly asking about the master.

"Let go, let go, you're hurting me!"

This time, it was Yang Meng's turn to suffer. The 'Ten Thousand Buddha' had a strong grip, and in his excitement, he almost broke Yang Meng's hand. On the cart, Yang Meng's hand could crush beans, but it was no match for the old man.