Chapter Twenty: Take Him Down

“Enough!” An arrogant voice came from the private room, “Who is this brash fellow, daring to act up in front of Master Yu? Do you even know how many eyes the Horse King has?”

At that moment, four men surged out from the inner chamber. Each was clad in dark, fitted attire, instantly marking them as no good sorts.

“Kneel and kowtow three times for Master, then slap your own face. If Master is in a good mood, he’ll spare you dogs!” The leader appeared to be in his forties, a savage scar slashed across his face, his expression fierce and menacing.

This burly, scar-faced man exuded a formidable presence. His fists were especially noteworthy—not only abnormally large, but their knuckles were gnarled and misshapen.

Chen Ying had heard that martial arts techniques were generally divided into three categories: scholarly methods, martial methods, and hardening techniques. Scholarly methods emphasized natural principles, cultivating both the inner and outer self, honing not only the body, but also the mind and breath. It sounded simple, but truly mastering it was exceedingly difficult. Martial methods focused purely on fists and kicks, eschewing breath work; one could progress quickly, and after ten years of hard training, emerge to make a name. According to the scholarly school, martial methods were shortcuts, not the true path, and rarely produced greatness. Martial artists, in turn, found scholarly methods too esoteric. But there was a third category: hardening techniques, like the Golden Bell Armor, Iron Shirt, and the Thirteen Guardians.

The ferocious, scar-faced man clearly practiced hardening methods, and seemed quite skilled. He likely trained in the Rubbing Palm technique—rubbing the hands against stone, or any hard object like a tree, day after day. First, calluses formed, then hardened into a tough skin, until the palms were as hard as iron or stone.

The beautiful proprietress, seeing the scar-faced man, turned pale with fright.

Trembling, she bowed to the scar-faced man, her voice quivering with tears as she pleaded to Chen Ying, “Gentlemen, how did you offend Master Yu? Hurry and apologize to him!”

Chen Ying and his companion knew well: the louder and more arrogant a person, the more foolish they were; true nobility was always low-key.

Chen Ying smiled slightly, and the beautiful proprietress blushed instantly. His looks were nothing short of a weapon of mass destruction for women; she hurried to shield him with her slender body, begging Master Yu, “Please, be magnanimous and forgive these strangers!”

“Xu Widow, who do you think you are? Giving you face, are we?” Master Yu’s eyes widened, and the scar on his face twisted even more fiercely, “Xu Widow, is this pretty boy your lover?”

The proprietress’s face turned red enough to drip.

Liang Zan’s anger flared, ready to erupt, but Chen Ying grabbed his hand, signaling him to stay calm.

Chang’an, capital of the Great Tang, was a peculiar place: the shallower the waters, the more turtles there were. One misstep, and you could offend someone truly untouchable. Chen Ying knew that a true man couldn’t always be hard-headed; sometimes, one had to yield. He said, “May I know your name, sir?”

Master Yu replied, “I am Yu Zhengyang of Wannian, known as the Hero of Guanzhong.”

Chen Ying had expected some formidable figure; instead, it turned out to be a wandering knight. To put it nicely, a knight; less kindly, a thug. With Yu Zhengyang’s troublemaking nature, he was certainly not a difficult character.

Chen Ying smiled coolly, “My apologies… my apologies. So it’s the great Hero Yu himself. Kneel and kowtow three times to me, and I’ll let bygones be bygones.”

“What did you say?” Yu Zhengyang’s voice was thick with hostility, “You must be courting death.”

With that, Yu Zhengyang swung his enormous fist toward Chen Ying’s head, his fist as big as a cooking pot.

Chen Ying remained unmoved. As Yu Zhengyang drew within two paces, Chen Ying suddenly drew his saber, pressing its cold blade against Yu Zhengyang’s throat.

The icy steel against his neck sent Yu Zhengyang into a cold sweat.

At this moment, Liang Zan leapt forward like a gust of wind, grabbing Yu Zhengyang’s collar.

Liang Zan had no qualms—he knew Chen Ying was now a fifth-rank general, outranking even the county magistrate. These four were clearly his former peers, and as Chen Ying’s retainer, a legitimate fifth-rank General of Tranquility, even killing these foul-mouthed knights would not be a major matter.

Liang Zan struck with lightning speed, flipping Yu Zhengyang over his shoulder and slamming him onto a neighboring table, sending surrounding diners fleeing in panic. Yu Zhengyang lay covered in spilled cold dishes, utterly disgraced.

The other three, seeing Liang Zan injure their leader, quickly drew short blades and lunged at Liang Zan’s chest. Just as Chen Ying was about to act, Zhang Huaiwei drew his saber with a clang, standing before Chen Ying and shouting, “Don’t force me to kill!”

You Ziying stepped forward, kicking over one of the knights and pressing his saber against the man’s neck.

The four knights turned ashen, trembling like leaves in the wind.

Thugs might not be smart, but their eyes had to be sharp—they knew very well whom they could afford to offend, and whom they could not.

Otherwise, offending the wrong person could mean dying without knowing how.

Yu Zhengyang saw that Chen Ying and his companions all carried standard military sabers, their faces fierce and murderous, and realized he’d hit an iron wall today. In Chang’an, those who openly carried military weapons belonged to two groups: soldiers, or the private guards of noble families. Either way, they were not people he could mess with.

“Your humble servant was blind and offended you gentlemen; I deserve punishment, I deserve death!” With that, Yu Zhengyang began slapping his own face. To his credit, he did not hold back—after a dozen blows, his face was swollen, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.

Chen Ying was no naive fledgling; he knew men like Yu Zhengyang were bullies who feared the strong. Unless taught a lesson, they would never learn.

Chen Ying said, “Let them remember this well!”

Zhang Huaiwei and You Ziying sheathed their sabers, and with their fists, delivered a thorough beating.

Chang’an, under the emperor’s feet, enjoyed good order. Especially in these troubled times, as soon as Chen Ying brandished his saber, a diner had already rushed out to inform the local constables. The Wannian county office was near Xu’s Inn; upon being told there was an armed brawl, County Constable Gao Wanqing, fearing trouble, hurried over with a dozen armed men, sweat pouring down his face.

A hundred paces from the inn, Gao Wanqing heard the anguished screams within. He rushed in, shouting, “Stop!”

Entering the hall, he immediately saw Chen Ying seated calmly.

“It’s you?”

Back when Su Hu tried to defile Chen Ying, Chen Ying had smashed Su Hu with an inkstone in desperation; as Su Hu’s trusted aide, Gao Wanqing had pursued Chen Ying for ten days.

“Seize him!”