My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

An elderly man sat motionless in the guest seat of the grand hall within the government office of the Zhi Ge Division, his posture steady and upright, resembling an immovable mountain.

In scholarly circles, there's a saying: "Words reveal the face." In Jianghu, there's a similar belief: one's martial arts prowess can often be discerned from their posture while seated. The greater the mastery, the more they resemble a towering mountain—sitting with unwavering composure, radiating an aura that even transcends worldly concerns, akin to being lost in profound stillness.

Thus, many elders in families demand proper posture from their children, instilling in them the pursuit of calmness in demeanor—to remain unshaken even as Mount Tai collapses before them. The reasoning lies precisely within this principle.

It is worth noting that while there are indeed frivolous masters in the world, those who are frivolous rarely achieve true mastery.

"Who is this?" Chen Yi couldn't help but ask.

Lu Nanwu stepped forward in small strides, replying:

"Li Wenhu, the former chief Darts Master of the Tian Nan Escort Agency. After leaving the escort trade, he established his own martial arts school, focusing on teaching the Tiger-Slaying Spear technique. He was once renowned enough to have his name included in historical prominence, but during middle age, his martial arts school faced turmoil, leaving the tendons in his left hand severed. After reporting the incident, the Imperial Astronomy Department calculated his fortune and subsequently removed his name from their distinguished records."

"So, he's considered a Sixth Rank now?" Chen Yi asked in a low voice.

"Correct. Chen Cisheng, as you well know, Zhi Ge Division's primary duties involve mediating disputes in Jianghu. First, we proactively handle matters upon learning of them. Second, we address cases brought to us directly, such as this one."

Lu Nanwu paused momentarily before continuing:

"By the way, Old Li shared some past connections with today's Du Siqing. However, since Du Siqing isn't present, this matter falls entirely to you to resolve."

The Du Siqing mentioned by Lu Nanwu was someone Chen Yi knew well—Du Siqing, whose surname was Du and given name Hengyun. Now nearing seventy years old, he made his mark in the Capital City thirty years prior. As a Martial Arts Third Rank master specializing in advanced body-hardening techniques, he once defeated eight prominent martial arts schools in the capital. After advancing to Fifth Rank, his name officially entered the spring-autumn historical records. Step by step, from a minor functionary, he rose to the position of Division Chief, overseeing the entire Zhi Ge Division.

"Currently, the other two deputy division chiefs and the main division chief have been dispatched to handle the death of Liu Xunfu in Hanyang. That leaves only you to look into Old Li's case. I did some research beforehand—this matter is neither terribly difficult nor entirely straightforward. With your martial arts skills, it should be manageable."

As Lu Nanwu spoke, Chen Yi lifted his foot, walking gradually toward the seated Li Wenhu in the center of the grand hall.

When Chen Yi halted before Li Wenhu, the elder, who had kept his eyes shut and been resting silently, finally opened his eyelids, gazing at Chen Yi for a long moment as a subtle gleam flickered in his eyes.

The old man uttered briefly: "Your aptitude is average, but your disposition is commendable."

Lu Nanwu beside Chen Yi froze for a moment—who in the Capital City didn't know that Chen Qianhu, once low-profile to an extreme, surprised the world overnight by performing a meritorious act of rescuing the emperor? In just a few short months, he had earned a place in the spring-autumn historical records. Yet, this elderly man claimed Chen Yi's aptitude was merely average. If this was considered average, then Lu Nanwu might as well give up practicing martial arts altogether.

Chen Yi, however, showed no fluctuation in emotion and directly asked, "How did you determine that?"

Li Wenhu narrowed his eyes slightly and answered, "A person's aptitude—many great martial scholars can tell with a single touch. One's martial arts skills may deceive, but bones rarely lie. I've reached an age where I don't need to touch anymore—I just look. Observe long enough, and I can discern."

Li Wenhu's words entered Chen Yi's ears, and he realized that this ability to discern aptitude came from accumulated experience. If possible, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to consult the elder about this in the future as it might prove helpful when navigating Jianghu.

Thus, Chen Yi continued asking:

"What exactly do you make of my aptitude?"

"Your wrists are straight, your fists align perfectly with your little fingers, creating one seamless line. There's some flexibility but not enough, some firmness but insufficient as well. Your gait, while steady, bears the mark of your feet hitting the ground—a sign your natural balance is average, and the tiger-like stride is a skill acquired postnatally. …Even so, you recognize your aptitude as average yet choose not to conceal it, which reflects positively on your disposition. Hmm… you're well-suited for learning spear techniques."

After delivering this commentary, Li Wenhu concluded with four appreciative words.

Chen Yi curtly declined, "Old Sir, no need. I use swords and blades."

No sooner had those words left his mouth than Li Wenhu suddenly stood up, his aura changing rapidly. In an instant, a palpable ferocity erupted; his slightly widened eyes exuded the sense of a tiger descending from the mountains, striking terror into those around him.

Jianghu personalities were often unpredictable, and Chen Yi couldn't discern what had sparked Li Wenhu's shift. Yet he subtly lowered his fist, ready to counter at any moment.

The atmosphere took a sharp turn. Killing intent filled the air, leaving Lu Nanwu staring blankly—looking at Li Wenhu, then at Chen Yi, unsure of what to do.

Fixing his ice-cold gaze on Chen Yi, the elderly man uttered, "Miss this chance, and it'll never come again. Do you want to learn spear techniques or not?"

The killing intent was so overwhelming it felt as if an invisible spear was pressing directly against Chen Yi's throat. Chen Yi suddenly realized—this old man might have grasped the essence of martial intent after the tendons in his hand were severed.

In other words, had his tendons remained intact, this man would have already reached Fourth Rank. And even with his injury, he was far beyond the abilities of ordinary Fifth Rank martial artists.

However, to Chen Yi, what did it matter whether Li Wenhu's skills surpassed those of typical Fifth Rank practitioners? Chen Yi had already reached Fourth Rank. Calling the man "Sir" was formal courtesy, but to kneel before him, to acknowledge him as a mentor, and inherit his techniques—why should he? Should he cower under his energy? Bow in submission?

Fear him? Not a chance.

Chen Yi smirked frostily, asking calmly, "Old Sir, whether I want to learn or not—what concern is it of yours?"

Li Wenhu replied, "It concerns me greatly."

"Concerns you? Then what if I want to learn? And what if I don't?"

Chen Yi's smirk remained cold, masking his internal killing intent.

Li Wenhu answered as if it were only natural: "If you want to learn, I'll teach you. If you don't, I won't."