Chapter Thirty-Two: The Wooden Mallet

Qi Guoyuan sat down across from Yun Hao in a grand and imposing manner, staring at him in silence—as if Yun Hao owed him money.

“Regretting it now?” Yun Hao’s first reaction was that this fellow had come to settle scores. According to their agreement, after Yun Hao cured his illness, Xie Yingdeng was to give him a hundred taels of silver. Qi Guoyuan thought his own brother was too stingy. Such a precious Great Rejuvenation Pill, he felt, was worth far more in the realm of traditional medicine than a mere hundred taels. In the end, despite Yun Hao’s vehement refusal, they’d forced another hundred taels upon him.

“Hah! When have I, Qi Guoyuan, ever regretted sending money? But you also promised to teach me a way to make a name for myself. You haven’t said what it is yet.”

So that was it. Yun Hao cursed himself inwardly for overcomplicating things. He should have just let the fellow eat the mud pellet from Hou Junji’s body and left it at that. But a promise made must be kept, after all—it was a matter of personal honor, something Yun Hao valued above all else.

“So, that’s what brings you here. No problem! May I ask, Captain Qi, what weapon do you favor these days?” Yun Hao, full of confidence, plopped himself down at the desk, preparing to thoroughly bamboozle Qi Guoyuan.

“My weapon is a gilded melon hammer with a silver sheen!” Qi Guoyuan seemed quite proud of his choice.

“Oh? And how much does it weigh?”

“With my strength, I can wield a twenty-jin hammer,” Qi Guoyuan boasted, as if swinging such a hammer was an extraordinary feat. Yun Hao was silently perplexed. Olympic weightlifters routinely hoist over a hundred kilos—about two hundred jin—so why did this man think his twenty-jin hammer was anything special?

“And is it formidable in battle?”

“No matter what sturdy helmets or heavy armor the enemy wears, as long as I land a blow to the chest or abdomen, there’s no hope of survival,” Qi Guoyuan declared. By this age, armor-making had become highly advanced. With the widespread use of iron armor, swords were no longer as useful on the battlefield, so hammers, cudgels, and other blunt weapons—like Qin Qiong’s double maces—became popular. Qi Guoyuan wasn’t exaggerating; a twenty-jin hammer was hardly something anyone could endure. Even if you were armored like a medieval knight, you’d still suffer internal injuries.

“Have you ever thought about going into battle with a two-hundred-jin hammer, the head about as big as a washbasin?” Yun Hao gestured a wide circle with his hands.

Qi Guoyuan’s jaw almost hit the floor. Two hundred jin…! Even a twenty-jin hammer was remarkable in battle. Two hundred jin—a man might not survive, and neither would the horse. Never mind swinging it; even lifting it would require a true strongman. He shot Yun Hao a hostile look. If he was sure this kid was mocking him, Qi Guoyuan would walk out then and there. Best not to offend this one—he was downright terrifying.

“Scared you, eh? If you met someone on the battlefield wielding such a massive hammer, what would your first thought be?” Yun Hao was secretly amused by Qi Guoyuan’s expression. His intimidation was evidently working. In the past, he’d probably have gotten spanked for such audacity, but now, Qi Guoyuan showed not the slightest urge to lay a hand on him. Excellent—very effective. Even if he had to leave Erxian Manor, he didn’t want to be bullied. As the saying goes, better to be feared than loved. Without a hint of deterrence, it’s hard to survive in this world.

“Isn’t it obvious? Anyone who can wield such a heavy weapon must be a peerless warrior—a man whose arm could host a galloping horse, whose fists could support a standing man. If I met someone like that, why would I stick around and wait to be hammered?” Qi Guoyuan looked at Yun Hao as if he were a fool.

“If you carried such a weapon, your enemies would surely think the same of you. Wouldn’t that make you famous?”

“Two hundred jin? How could I possibly lift it?” Qi Guoyuan stood up, ready to leave, now certain Yun Hao was just stringing him along. He figured it was best to get out before Yun Hao tried some new mischief. After what happened last time, Qi Guoyuan had resolved to keep his distance from Yun Hao—any more, and he’d lose years off his life.

“If you can’t handle iron, wood should be no problem,” Yun Hao said offhandedly, making no move to stop him.

Qi Guoyuan froze at the doorway. Of course! Why not craft a pair of oversized wooden hammers—better yet, hollow ones? They could be made as large as desired, and even if he couldn’t win in a fight, at least he’d intimidate his foes.

“Just a word of advice: make the wooden hammers hollow and fill them with quicklime. That way, even if you can’t win and your weapon is smashed, you’ll have a chance to escape. Consider that a free tip—our deal is complete, payment in full. Off you go, hero!” Yun Hao dismissed him with a flourish. With over two thousand years of accumulated wisdom, he had every right to be smug.

“Thanks, Brother Yun!” Qi Guoyuan clasped his hands in thanks and strode out of the room.

With his hands behind his head, Yun Hao whistled as he made his way to the kitchen. Qi Guoyuan was not someone to offend lightly. To knock him down was like giving him a slap; teaching him how to scare people was like offering a sweet date. This combination, Yun Hao had mastered back when he was a squad leader in his previous life—and it still worked wonders.

Tomorrow he would depart, so he headed to the kitchen to cook one last good meal for Qin Qiong. Once Qin Qiong returned to Shandong, he wouldn’t get to taste Yun Hao’s cooking again. Though Yun Hao had helped him recently, without Qin Qiong’s protection these past days, he’d have long since been torn to pieces and fed to the dogs. This was a debt of gratitude, and since he had no other skills, making a meal was the least he could do.

Ever since Yun Hao started producing delicious food, Qi Biao and Lai Shun had regained faith in his culinary skills. The moment Yun Hao entered the kitchen, the two of them pressed their faces to the window and door, peering inside. Whenever he made something tasty, those two transformed into utter rascals. With cries of “Brother Yun! Brother Yun!” they would snatch up the food and gobble it down in record time. Even if Yun Hao spat in the dish several times, they wouldn’t mind; in fact, they’d claim it tasted better “with extra seasoning.” Faced with such characters, Yun Hao was at a loss.

“If you want to eat, come in—what are you doing out there?” Yun Hao’s eyes twinkled with mischief. He called them in while scooping a ladle of flour from the vat.

The two, drooling, saw Yun Hao measuring out flour and felt a sense of dread. When he added water to the basin, memories of the disastrous lump soup flashed across their minds, and they immediately turned tail and fled.

“Heh! You little scamps—still think I can’t handle you?” Yun Hao chuckled to himself as he kneaded the dough, already pondering how to prepare noodle slices.

PS: New book—please add to your collection! Seventy thousand words already, and only a thousand readers? I’ve fallen into the basement, 555555