Beneath the night sky.
Ye Long gazed into the distance at the bright moon hanging in the sky, his thoughts drifting off to who knows where.
Moonlight poured through the dilapidated window frame, stirring a whirlwind of complex emotions deep within his heart.
Suddenly, Ye Long let out a long sigh.
"Before my bed, the bright moonshines, / I took it for frost on the ground. / I raise my head and watch the moon, / I lower my head and think of home. Home, ah..."
By this time, he had already stood up.
Though his fists were clenched, they seemed utterly devoid of strength. A moment later, his hands relaxed involuntarily as he muttered to himself in secret:
"Ten years old—what can a ten-year-old child possibly do?"
Clearly, for Ye Long, who possessed no foundation in cultivation, this was a question well worth pondering.
In his past life, there was precious little a ten-year-old could do; such an age was only fit for studying. Of course, he could help wipe tables at an inn in exchange for a few coins, or perhaps...
The next day, early morning.
Ye Long had spent the entire night deep in thought through those hours that felt both agonizingly long and fleetingly brief.
Catching sight of his haggard reflection in the clear spring water, his eyes shot with blood...
He suddenly splashed water over his face, finally clearing his head a little.
Yet the thought of the two taels of shredded silver due to be handed over tonight left a bitter taste in his mouth.
If he failed to produce the silver, the consequences could well be imagined...
At this, he instinctively dared not think any further, and hurriedly bolted out of the small wooden shack.
Stepping out onto the bustling, crowded main street, he was struck by an inexplicable sense of awe.
People hurried back and forth, streaming in and out... dressed in archaic attire, shouting to one another, each and every one of them hawking their wares.
It felt as though he had stepped right into a world of ancient chivalric heroes.
Amidst the endless stream of carriages and horses, people chatted and laughed with one another, getting along famously.
Then he looked down at his own ragged clothes, and a sudden surge of impulse welled up in his heart.
If he wanted to survive, he had no choice but to grow stronger.
Coming to the entrance of an inn, he gazed up at the plaque that read "Heroic Inn".
Ye Long found his mind drifting once again. In his past life, there seemed to have been a place called the Heroic Grand Hotel, where he often used to dine.
However, before he could even set foot inside the doorway, he was spotted by an inn waiter, who immediately started shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Where did this little beggar come from? Scram, scram, don't stand in the way of second master's business!"
Ye Long: "......"
Watching the waiter's arrogant posture, he could not suppress the grief and indignation in his heart.
Yet circumstances were stronger than man, and he had no choice but to walk away.
A moment later, however, he watched as the same waiter bowed and scraped with utmost politeness to passing patrons, stirring an even greater fury within him.
Yet, with beggars visible all over the streets, who was ever allowed to step grandly into an inn?
Ye Long had no choice but to rein in his tangled emotions and turn back into the crowd.
Reaching a street corner, he spotted another establishment with a gilded plaque bearing the words "Eight Directions Inn".
Clearly, it was meant to imply guests arriving from all directions.
Such a grand and magnificent multi-story building towered dozens of feet into the air.
Along the winding staircases, a steady stream of people could be seen coming and going from time to time, and bursts of laughter drifted down from the upper floors.
He stood frozen for a long time, eventually deciding to give it a try anyway.
However...
As Ye Long watched the patrons walking in and out, for some reason he lost his courage and actually hesitated, unable to take a step forward.
Seeing that one and all were dressed in gorgeous attire, clearly dignitaries and nobles of high standing.
As his thoughts churned, his heart inevitably began to race with anxiety.
"Perhaps begging will give me a better chance..."
He abruptly picked up a piece of red stone and began to write a line of characters: *At home I have aging parents with hair as white as snow, and a helpless, lonely child with no one to lean on. With a single thin garment in the biting cold of heaven and earth, who will take pity and loosen their purse strings? Unfamiliar with the faces of high officials and nobles, I can only pray to princes and marquises. Though I am a fine son of Qintian, one day I shall surely repay this kindness.*
The handwriting appeared vigorous and powerful, just like a fierce tiger breaking out of its cage.
It was saturated with Ye Long's current state of mind—his burning passion brimming with surging vitality, his fighting spirit raised high toward the heavens, the two complementing each other perfectly.
Yet looking at the writing sprawled across the ground, he sighed repeatedly.
"I hope someone can spare a little generosity; otherwise, I truly don't know whether I'll live or die tonight!"
Ye Long then crossed his legs and sat down, calmly gazing up at the firmament as he rasped hoarsely:
"The great road stretches out on both sides, a single tael of silver is a life-saving coin!"
His cry immediately drew pointing and jeering from the passersby.
It was a truly helpless move on Ye Long's part. Ever since he had become a beggar, what dignity could he possibly speak of?
If he wanted to stand tall with his back straight, he had to become a strong person.
Besides, how could he fail to understand what the varied expressions of the crowd meant?
"Kind grandpas, aunties, older brothers, older sisters, please take pity on this little brother! At home I have elders whose lives are hanging by a thread, and now I am left alone and helpless. I earnestly beg you noble benefactors to bestow two taels of silver—this little brother will never forget your kindness in the days to come," Ye Long shouted.
Having lived two lifetimes, if he didn't even have this much worldly savvy, he probably wouldn't survive tonight...
For a moment, the onlookers grew restless, pointing fingers and hurling curses.
"Silver? And two taels at that! You brat, you really dare to open a lion's mouth..."
"Where did this little beggar come from? Get back wherever you came from..."
"Begging all the way here? If you don't leave right now, we're calling the authorities!"
......
Facing the cold gazes of the onlookers, Ye Long had no choice but to silently turn and leave the right-and-wrong of that place behind.
What he did not know, however, was this:
A figure pushed through the crowd, stared down at the handwriting on the ground, and fell into a daze.
By now, the sun was high in the sky.
Ye Long was walking aimlessly along the roadside, rubbing his uncooperative belly over and over as he forced yet another bitter smile.
"The inner city of this Qintian Empire is truly ridiculously large; I can't see the end of it at all."
Wandering into a sparsely populated garbage dump, seeing that there was no one about, he threw aside any concerns about cleanliness and abruptly grabbed a foul-smelling steamed bun, stuffing it into his mouth to devour ravenously.
As the sour taste hit his tongue, tears welled uncontrollably in his eyes. Thinking of his two lifetimes, this was the first time he had ever had to rely on eating garbage to survive.
The bitterness in his heart could never be fully expressed in a few words.
The world thought beggars were filthy and disheveled, not knowing that beggars too had their dignity. As long as they could avoid starving to death, their will to survive was three times stronger than anyone else's.
Now, Ye Long had truly experienced firsthand the power of the instinct to survive.
Driven by this will to live, not only did his mind mature rapidly, but an endless wellspring of strength surged forth to sustain his continued existence.
Once he had eaten his fill, he rubbed his belly again, wiped away his tear tracks, and continued on his way to beg for a living.
Truth be told, Ye Long had also considered fleeing this city. But the surrounding lands were overrun by ferocious Monster Beasts; without a shred of martial prowess to protect him, if he ventured outside, he feared he would never return. He had no desire to end up as a meal in a beast's belly.
Death was terrifying, indeed, but a fate worse than death was even more terrifying!
Stepping back onto the main street and looking at the passing crowds, Ye Long's inner conviction grew exceptionally firm.
If he did not want to continue lingering on in a wretched existence, he had no choice but to grow stronger!
And that Minwu Hall might just be a good place to start...
It had to be said—
Within the Qintian Empire, if a city lacked powerful masters to hold down the fort, it would be a terrifying predicament. To say nothing of rampaging bandits, the mere devastation wreaked by Monster Beasts alone could drive people utterly mad.
Therefore, every city established martial arts academies to provide the citizens of Qintian with a means to strengthen their bodies and defend their homes.
This, in turn, had fostered a fierce and unyielding populace throughout Qintian ever since the founding of the nation.
Now... the more piercing the battle cries echoing from within Minwu Hall, the hotter Ye Long's heart became.