Chapter 3

In the south of Zhou City, the rebellious White Python River spewed white foam, forming countless large and small whirlpools. It defiantly leaped and crashed through the vast wilderness, roaring like a madman as it cut through the mountains.

The thousand-mile-long White Python River, where even goose feathers would sink, was uniquely calm and peaceful at the confluence with the Great Dragon River, thirty miles south of Zhou City. Here, the once fierce and unruly river seemed to have exhausted all its strength, becoming a tranquil and beautiful stretch of over a hundred miles of clear blue water.

Before dawn, the river mouth of the White Python River was already dotted with sails. The fishermen from the three fishing villages by the river had risen early, rowing their own or rented boats out onto the river, busy with their nets and hooks, big and small.

As the sky began to lighten, the river surface between the three fishing villages was crowded with returning boats, brimming with their catches.

Numerous fishermen squatted on the bow, holding large bowls, drinking the fish soup freshly prepared by their wives, and loudly greeting their acquaintances. In the distance, the sound of oars and the rapid approach of more sails indicated that more fishermen were returning.

Despite the crowded boats, not a single one docked at the shore.

At the fish market dock, the stewards from the mansions of Zhou City's officials and the procurement officers from various taverns and restaurants, all dressed in fine silk and brocade, sat in the teahouse, sipping coarse tea and passing the time idly.

In a three-compound mansion at the edge of the fish market, Chu Tian, drenched in sweat, wearing only a pair of bull-nose shorts, panted heavily as he stepped in a peculiar manner. His left hand moved strangely at his side, while his right hand held a two-and-a-half-foot-long, ancient and heavy bronze octagonal sword, thrusting it out extremely slowly, one stroke at a time.

With each thrust, Chu Tian seemed like a sugarcane in a juicer, suddenly breaking out in a large sweat.

Drops of sweat trickled down his bronze-colored skin, dripping onto the ground, leaving clear circles of sweat on the sand training ground, which quickly dried in the morning breeze.

"Three thousand five hundred ninety-nine... three thousand six hundred!" After thrusting the sword extremely slowly, Chu Tian's body stiffened for a moment. He opened his mouth wide, and a white mist shot out several yards, lingering in the morning breeze for three breaths before slowly dissipating.

A faint tiger roar echoed in his chest, and the air around Chu Tian suddenly rippled. The sand under his feet 'whooshed' outward for several yards, forming a clear circle with a diameter of several dozen yards.

Flipping his hand, he secured the bronze octagonal sword to a leather arm guard on his right arm. Chu Tian walked to the square well in the corner of the training ground, filled a bucket with water, and poured it over his head.

Shaking his head vigorously, Chu Tian gritted his teeth, trying hard to forget the terrifying scenes from his dream last night: the blood, the mangled bodies, the sharp blade falling, and the one-armed man with a purple face and a righteous expression, grinning at him.

"Almost eighteen years, what the hell is this?"

The side door of the training ground opened, and several burly men with thick arms and legs, wearing blue cloth uniforms and exposing their chests, walked in with brooms and long-handled nets. They bowed slightly to Chu Tian and silently began to clean the training ground, smoothing out the sand filled with footprints and sweat.

Chu Tian dried himself, grabbed a set of blue cloth robes hanging by the well, and put them on. He tied a pink chrysanthemum flower to his hair, and with a grin, he looked at his reflection in the well water.

His eyebrows were like swords, his face square, and a few scars of varying lengths on his slightly dark skin hid the last traces of youth.

Chu Tian smiled at his reflection, rather narcissistically: "Quite handsome! Too bad my skin isn't fair enough, no wonder I always have to spend silver to listen to music."

Two burly men carried in a large pot of fish soup, made from the White Python River's specialty, small silver fish. The rich aroma of the soup was irresistible, and the edges of the pot were lined with over a dozen cornmeal cakes. Half of each cake was soaked in the fish soup and then baked to a crisp in the iron pot, emitting a sweet and savory smell. Chu Tian, who had just finished his morning practice, sniffed the air and sat on the well curb, eating voraciously.

After devouring the pot of soup and over five pounds of cornmeal cakes, Chu Tian looked up and asked the two men, "Where are A Dog and A Sparrow? I didn't hear them come back last night?"

The two men bowed slightly to Chu Tian and replied, "A Dog sent word last night that he found a den of large blue wolves in the mountains and is trying to tame them. He won't be back for three to five days."

One of the men, with a hint of envy and helplessness, lowered his voice and said, "A Sparrow, well, Widow Tian left the door open for him last night, didn't she?"

Chu Tian was taken aback, the pink chrysanthemum on his head swaying. He suddenly looked up and sighed.

Lowering his head, he 'slurped' the last of the fish soup, patted his belly, and stood up. He casually picked up an ironwood staff from the weapon rack and carried it on his shoulder as he strode out.

Behind him, about eighteen burly men, each with arms that could run horses and fists that could stand people, all over eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and thick waists, and faces full of scars, followed him with similar ironwood staffs, marching out of the yard and down the stone-paved road toward the fish market dock.

Many people along the way, seeing Chu Tian and his group, bowed and greeted him, calling him 'Chu Chief' repeatedly.

Chu Tian smiled and returned their greetings, stopping occasionally to chat with them.

"Ah, Old Luo, are your arms not hurting anymore? How did you manage to mend the fishing net? I have a bottle of tiger bone wine that can help. Come to my place and take it later!"

"Hey, Aunt Qian, are you drying fish? Why isn't my big sister around? By the way, the young man Zhao from the oil mill in Zhou City is a very honest and hardworking person, doesn't gamble or visit brothels, and is very family-oriented. I can arrange a match for your families tomorrow?"

"Damn Zhong Dagou, you dare to come back? Your mother almost starved to death a few days ago! Don't run, catch him! I told you before, if you gamble in Zhou City again, I'll break your legs!"

A middle-aged man with a weasel-like appearance had just turned the corner when he suddenly saw Chu Tian and was so frightened that he turned and ran. In his haste, he slipped and fell, nearly dying on the spot.

Before Zhong Dagou could stand up, two of the burly men behind Chu Tian had already reached him, stomping on his back with their bear-like feet. Zhong Dagou screamed in agony, clawing at the ground and wailing.

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