Chapter Eight: Hope

"Don't act rashly. We admit defeat this time," Qin Yi stopped Wei He and the others, speaking calmly.

"Heh, at least you know your place," sneered Liang Chaoqiang before turning away.

On the ground, Zhang Broadsword coughed violently, taking a long moment to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?" Qin Yi stepped forward to check on him, noticing a dark, bruised handprint on Zhang Broadsword's shoulder.

"I'll live," Zhang Broadsword replied, his face pale, then cursed bitterly, "Damn it, I never thought that bastard would deceive us! And I dragged you all into this mess with me. Don't worry, I'll head home in a few days and compensate you for your losses."

Seeing the guilt written across Zhang Broadsword’s face, the others quickly offered words of comfort.

Zhang Broadsword had always been warm-hearted, and since he’d promised to make amends, no one pressed him further.

"Come on, let's head back," Qin Yi said.

This time, with Liang Chaoqiang turning on them so blatantly, Qin Yi knew that reporting him would be pointless; otherwise, Liang would not have been so brazen. Liang was a full disciple, while they were merely temporary ones. Even if they took it to the monastery's authorities, without solid evidence, they would have no case. There was nothing to do but swallow their grievances.

…

On a narrow mountain path leading to Qingwei Daoist Temple.

"Who's there?" Liang Chaoqiang spun around, striking out with his palm.

Bang!

Dust and earth exploded in Liang Chaoqiang’s eyes.

"Despicable!" he shouted, firing four or five palm strikes into the air ahead.

But he hit nothing.

Crash!

Teeth flew, blood spattered. Liang Chaoqiang, struck squarely in the face, was hurled backwards, crashing to the ground and losing consciousness instantly.

As the dust settled, a shadowy figure swiftly searched Liang Chaoqiang's body, then disappeared just as quickly.

…

At the foot of the mountain, in a cornfield, Qin Yi retied his tousled hair and removed the kerchief from his face. Glancing around to ensure no one was near, he hurried toward a small pond beyond the corn.

He enjoyed a thorough bath, washed the bloodstained sleeve, and then began inventorying his spoils.

In the purse were six banknotes worth twenty taels each, twenty-six copper notes worth five hundred cash apiece, and some loose coins.

All told, one hundred thirty-three taels of silver and dozens of copper coins!

"This Liang Chaoqiang must have swindled quite a few people lately," Qin Yi mused. "Well, it’s my good fortune now!"

He had chosen to take the risk because he judged that, at most, Liang Chaoqiang had trained in martial arts for five years. Even with secret medicines, his strength would not match Qin Yi's mastery of the Five Qi Harmonizing Fist, which required at least two decades of hard work, if not thirty years. Moreover, from the faint palm imprint Liang had left on the tree earlier, Qin Yi deduced that Liang’s strength was at best equal to the level he himself had reached after achieving minor mastery. Coupled with the surprise attack, Liang had stood no chance.

After transferring the money to his own purse and burying Liang Chaoqiang’s empty purse in a secluded spot, Qin Yi departed at a leisurely pace.

…

Outside a bamboo grove.

Zhang Broadsword and the others were still grumbling when they saw Qin Yi return.

"Qin Yi, you were gone forever! What took you so long?" one asked.

"On my way back, I passed a pond and happened to spot a few fish. I jumped in to try my luck but came up empty—and ended up soaking wet instead." Qin Yi pointed to his damp pants and sleeves with a wry smile, punctuating his words with a sneeze.

No one doubted him; this sort of thing was typical of Qin Yi these past months.

…

The next day.

After morning lessons, at the dining hall.

"I have two pieces of good news. Which do you want to hear first?" Zhang Broadsword grinned, his eyes twinkling as he addressed Qin Yi and the group.

"Old Zhang, stop keeping us in suspense," Song Jie rolled his eyes.

Zhang Broadsword feigned disappointment, but continued, "First, word this morning is that the scoundrel who tricked us, Liang Chaoqiang, was ambushed on his way back to the mountain yesterday. He got it bad—his face swollen like a pig’s head and lost seven or eight teeth! I bet he’ll whistle every time he talks now!"

"Really? Ha! Serves him right!" Wei He slapped his thigh, as if he himself had dealt the blow.

"Any idea who did it?" Qin Yi asked, feigning curiosity.

"No one knows. The rumor is that the attacker was underhanded—threw dust in Liang’s eyes, then knocked him out cold," Zhang Broadsword gestured animatedly, as though he’d witnessed the scene himself. "But Liang’s master is furious and has sworn to investigate thoroughly."

"I see…" Qin Yi nodded.

It seemed he had not been exposed, which put his mind at ease.

"And the other piece of good news?" Song Jie prompted.

"The other is about the formal Daoist registration more than a month from now. According to inside information, as long as you have the money—two hundred taels of silver—you can buy a registration certificate!" Zhang Broadsword said, barely containing his excitement.

"Two hundred taels for a registration certificate?" Qin Yi narrowed his eyes.

"Sounds like another scam," Song Jie said, frowning.

Having been burned the day before, everyone was wary.

"This time it’s different. Our Daoist temple should be announcing it officially today or tomorrow," Zhang Broadsword declared.

"Could it be a fake certificate? The temple only has a set number each year," Wei He doubted.

For monks and Daoists alike, possessing a certificate marked them as ordained, granted government protection, and exempted them from land taxes and corvée labor.

"If it’s officially announced by the temple, and money can buy a certificate, it’s probably genuine," Song Jie mused.

"Why do you say that?" the others asked.

"My father’s a licentiate, and even he can sometimes buy one. In these troubled times, the authorities turn a blind eye—maybe someone in the county office is using this as a way to make money," Song Jie explained.

In the end, the certificates were issued and certified by the government.

Qin Yi kept his own counsel, but Song Jie’s words made sense to him.

In wartime, everything was subject to change, and what was once impossible became commonplace.

"But two hundred taels—that’s a fortune. My family can’t afford it," Song Jie said glumly.

The others looked equally despondent.

Qin Yi remained silent. Though he’d made a windfall the previous day, he was still more than sixty taels short of the required amount.

"Still, better to have a chance than none at all…"