Chapter Thirty-One: Secret Deliberations at the Liu Residence

The next morning, just after Yuan Ye and his companions had finished breakfast, Liu Xi, the steward of the Liu household, arrived at the inn once again.

“Greetings, young master. Liu Xi, your humble servant, pays his respects,” he said, his smile blooming like a chrysanthemum. Yuan Ye nodded with a faint smile, indifferent to the display.

He had already anticipated this when he sent that stack of manuscripts back with Liu Xi the previous day. Coming from an era of information explosion in his past life, Yuan Ye understood well that although Master Liu of the Liu family might harbor some genuine gratitude for having his life saved, the true reason for such fervent attentiveness was more likely an attempt to forge a connection with Wudang—or rather, with Yuan Ye himself.

The Liu family, having grown so powerful, had already attracted the envy of many. This was why Liu Cai, the family head, had spent a fortune recruiting several martial artists as retainers. Yet, the best among these guards had barely touched the threshold of third-rate martial skill, and was far inferior to the likes of the bandit chief Tiger-head Jiao.

How could such men ever hope to keep the Liu family safe?

Especially after being kidnapped by Tiger-head Jiao and surviving by a hair’s breadth, Liu Cai felt more deeply than ever the importance of martial strength in these troubled times. Yet, a merchant by birth, he found himself in an awkward position: the reputable orthodox sects looked down on those of his kind, and he could not bring himself to trust the outlaws or wandering swordsmen of the martial world.

So, upon discovering that Yuan Ye was a second-generation disciple of Wudang—whose martial prowess was so great that he had defeated the Demonic Cult’s Blue-winged Bat King Wei Yixiao—how could Liu Cai, knowing his family teetered on the edge of ruin, possibly let go of this formidable connection?

Little did he know that Yuan Ye’s intentions aligned perfectly with his own. Yuan Ye, determined to restore order and revive the Han traditions, naturally required both wealth and resources. After all, even if he were invincible and could single-handedly storm the imperial palace in Dadu and slay the Mongol emperor, it would be to no avail—a new emperor would simply rise the next day. He planned instead to spend a few years preparing in secret, accumulating strength, before making his move.

At this moment, though there were various righteous armies throughout the land rallying under the banner of resisting the Yuan, most were merely ambitious men unwilling to fade into obscurity, accomplishing little in the way of true resistance but much in the way of plundering the common folk.

That was why Yuan Ye had sent Liu Xi back with those manuscripts last night.

Walking through the streets of Xiangyang, Yuan Ye felt the surge of life all around him—merchants, laborers, people coming and going. The sheer vitality left Dai Daojin slightly dazed.

“Perhaps for ordinary people, merely surviving is happiness enough. They care little for who rules over them,” he mused. Yet, his own resolve was unshaken, for only he knew how wretched life would become for the people in the coming years of chaos.

“To help the world when prosperous, to preserve oneself when destitute! Am I not courting trouble? Wouldn’t it be better to live carefree as a young hero?” Yuan Ye smiled silently at the thought.

The Liu residence stood alone on a vast tract of land on the west side of Xiangyang. As the wealthiest merchant family in the region, their estate was naturally grand and imposing.

Guided by Liu Xi, the four companions traveled from the east to the west of the city in less than half an hour. Yuan Ye maintained a calm expression as he surveyed the grounds—having seen skyscrapers hundreds of meters tall in his previous life, he was hardly impressed by a mere mansion.

But the brothers Xiong Ba and Xiong Zhan, and Zhao Fan, were wide-eyed with awe. The main gate itself was enormous, its nails gleaming, painted a bright vermilion. Two stone lions, as tall as a man, stood guard, exuding a commanding presence.

On either side of the main gate were smaller side doors, each watched over by two attendants in servant garb, scanning the surroundings. From a distance, when the five approached, the attendants’ faces lit up—one hurried out to greet them, while the other dashed nimbly through the side door into the residence.

Just as Yuan Ye and the others reached the gates, the red doors swung open with a creak. A portly old gentleman strode out, laughing heartily.

“Virtuous nephew Yuan, at last you’ve arrived! Today, the Liu family is truly honored by your presence!”

“You are too kind, Uncle Liu. I should have come sooner, but was delayed by trivial matters. And yesterday the weather did not cooperate, so I must trouble you today. I hope you will forgive me,” Yuan Ye replied with courtesy.

“Not at all, not at all, your presence flatters this old man greatly!” Liu replied, stepping forward and seizing Yuan Ye by the arm, leading him inside.

Only then did Yuan Ye notice two men standing behind Liu. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a dark complexion and thick lips, whose honest appearance was offset by the occasional glint of shrewdness in his eyes. It was clear he was no simple character.

The other was a burly youth of about fifteen or sixteen, his face still round with childishness, but now flushed with excitement as he gazed at Yuan Ye.

Once everyone was seated in the hall, Master Liu gestured to the older man at his side. “This is my eldest, Liu Xingtang. He’s read some books but never found his calling, preferring matters of business.”

“Greetings, Brother Liu,” Yuan Ye said with a cupped fist.

“Please, virtuous brother Yuan, you have my deepest thanks for saving my father. Should you ever need anything, I will do all in my power,” Liu Xingtang replied solemnly, rising to bow deeply.

Yuan Ye quickly rose to help him up. Regardless of Liu Xingtang’s sincerity, there would be much cooperation with the Liu family in the future; Yuan Ye would not seek repayment for his good deeds.

Seeing this, Liu’s smile grew even broader. He then nodded toward the burly youth. “My younger son, Liu Xingwu, has been spoiled by me since childhood. He has no interest in books or business—only in martial arts.”

The youth could no longer contain himself and rushed over, falling to his knees before Yuan Ye. “Master Yuan, please accept me as your disciple!”

“What is going on here?”

Yuan Ye was momentarily stunned, as were the others.

Father and son exchanged wry smiles before Master Liu explained, “Do not be offended, nephew. Ever since he was little, Ah Wu has been obsessed with martial arts. I have hired many renowned instructors for him, but before long, none could match him. When he heard you, so young, had defeated the Blue-winged Bat King Wei Yixiao, he insisted on going to Wudang to seek you as his master.”

“Please rise, Brother Liu. I am too young to accept disciples,” Yuan Ye replied, remaining seated. With a flick of his sleeve, a gust of wind shot forth, lifting Liu Xingwu to his feet and sending him stumbling back to his seat.

The seemingly gentle, but actually powerful, sleeve-force left Liu Xingwu breathless and red-faced, his words stifled.

Master Liu, having witnessed Yuan Ye nearly kill dozens of bandits with a palm strike, was unperturbed. Xiong Ba, Xiong Zhan, and Zhao Fan looked on with pride, thinking, “How inexperienced! The young master has only revealed a fraction of his true power.”

Only Liu Xingtang’s expression changed. With his father aging, he had managed the family’s affairs for over a decade, traveling widely and considering himself knowledgeable. Yet, he had never seen anything like Yuan Ye’s display. He had always dismissed tales of internal energy experts as exaggeration, since the family’s own retainers, skilled as they were, displayed nothing so mystical.

This explained his earlier reserved attitude toward Yuan Ye. Now, he realized how laughable he had been—no matter how many retainers he summoned, they could not withstand a single blow from such a master.

With this, his smile became all the more genuine, any other thoughts dispelled.

Catching the look, Yuan Ye smiled slightly. “Indeed, dealing with clever people is much easier,” he thought.

At last, Liu Xingwu recovered and, still unconvinced, protested, “Master Yuan, I really am good! None of my teachers can best me. You’re amazing, I really want to study under you.”

Seeing his persistence, Yuan Ye could only smile wryly. “Brother Liu, I truly cannot take on disciples. But these two brothers with me are quite skilled—you may spar with them if you wish.”

He gestured to the brothers. “The elder is Xiong Ba, and the younger Xiong Zhan. I believe you’ve met them.”

“Indeed, their strength is tremendous, their courage unmatched—I was deeply impressed,” Master Liu said, recalling how the two had fought fiercely against the bandits. In truth, the names Xiong Ba and Xiong Zhan had been given to them by Yuan Ye; the brothers had been orphans, wandering since childhood, with no proper names. Before leaving the mountains, they asked Yuan Ye to give them imposing names—since the elder was brave and wise, Yuan Ye named him Xiong Ba, unconcerned with possible echoes from tales of Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun. The younger, though seemingly simple-minded, was passionately devoted to martial arts, and his skills had even surpassed his brother’s.

Returning to the present, Liu Xingwu’s eyes lit up upon hearing his father’s words, and he eagerly called out, “Come, brothers, let’s go to my courtyard! I have all kinds of weapons—we can have a real match!” He bounded over, beckoning the two.

“Master?” the brothers looked to Yuan Ye.

“Go, but be careful—just a friendly contest,” Yuan Ye nodded.

With that, the three left, boisterous with excitement.

Watching them go, Yuan Ye turned to Master Liu. “Uncle, did you look over those things I sent?”

“Things?” Liu Xingtang glanced at his father, puzzled.

Master Liu said nothing, but waved to Liu Xi, who promptly led out the servants. Bowing, Master Liu produced a bundle of papers from his robes and handed them to Liu Xingtang.

As he skimmed through them, Liu Xingtang’s expression grew increasingly shocked. When he finished, his lips trembled. “Yuan, are the things written here true?”

“Of course. You can have a craftsman test them for authenticity,” Yuan Ye replied.

“Forgive me, brother, but this is truly astonishing. If this can be mass-produced, I am confident we could make ten million taels of silver in a year.”

“What are your terms for cooperation?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“I want fifty percent,” Yuan Ye stated.

“Fifty percent!” Liu Xingtang exclaimed, face darkening. He had not expected Yuan Ye to open with such a demand—for a single formula, no less.

“Listen, brother. If the Liu business alone sells this, can you imagine the envy it will provoke? Not just competitors, but Mongols and the martial world alike will swarm you. Can your family withstand that?” Yuan Ye replied coolly.

Father and son both paled, but being shrewd men, they understood now why Yuan Ye had the confidence to demand half.

The three then settled into a detailed negotiation over the partnership. By the time everything was agreed upon, it was already noon.

Under the blazing sunlight, Master Liu led Yuan Ye and Zhao Fan to the dining hall, with the elder son following behind, unable to contain his excitement—as though he could already see the Liu family’s business expanding across the land.