Three days later, Tian Yang was dead.
The news reached the stables in the afternoon. It was delivered by a young servant from the front courtyard of the Zhao Residence, who was so out of breath he could barely speak, his face as pale as paper.
"Tian Yang... Tian Yang fell off his horse! His head hit a stone by the roadside, and he... he died on the spot!"
The horse brush in Xiaochen's hand fell to the ground with a clatter.
"What did you say?"
"It's true! It happened on the way to Spring Breeze House! The Third Young Master saw him fall off the horse with his own eyes! Now the Third Young Master is so scared he's locked himself in his room, refusing to see anyone, claiming someone is out to get him!"
Xiaochen stood there, stunned, his mouth agape.
Chen Anshun was squatting by the manger, feeding a chestnut horse, his hands never stopping.
Xiaochen turned his head to look at him, his voice trembling.
"Master Chen... Tian Yang, he..."
"I heard."
Chen Anshun straightened up, dusting off the bits of hay from his hands.
"Everyone has their fate."
Four words, spoken as lightly as if he were commenting on the weather.
Xiaochen opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. In the end, he just lowered his head, bent down to pick up the horse brush, and held it tightly in his hand, motionless for a long time.
Chen Anshun said no more. He walked to the innermost part of the stable, where the two horses ridden by Tian Yang and the Third Young Master that day had been brought back.
One had a black mane, the other a blue roan, both still speckled with mud and leaves from the road.
He fetched a bucket of water, picked up a mane brush, and began brushing from the horse's neck, stroke by stroke.
His movements were unhurried, following the flow of the hair.
The black-maned horse snorted, nuzzling his hand.
Chen Anshun patted the horse's neck, switched to a soft brush, and carefully cleaned the mud off the horse's belly and legs. Then he took a dry cloth and wiped down the manes and tails of both horses.
From start to finish, no one saw any extra expression on his face.
How did Tian Yang die?
Fell off a horse.
The horse was raised by Chen Anshun himself; he knew its temperament better than anyone. That black-maned horse was gentle and steady as a ship on flat ground, rarely even stumbling, let alone throwing someone off.
Unless someone tampered with the saddle.
Chen Anshun put the brush back in the bucket and checked the horseshoes again.
Tian Yang was not worth the trouble of using a knife on, nor worth the risk. Making someone who intended to harm him disappear quietly was the cleanest solution he could think of.
As for the Third Young Master Zhao Chengqi, that wastrel was scared out of his wits, hiding in the courtyard all day, claiming someone wanted to assassinate him, suspecting it was a relative of some virtuous woman he had harassed coming for revenge.
The entire Zhao Residence was thrown into chaos by him, and no one bothered to investigate the true cause of Tian Yang's fall.
A servant falling off a horse and dying wouldn't even make a splash in a big household like the Zhao Residence.
After finishing his work in the stables, Chen Anshun returned to his thatched cottage and bolted the door.
He stood in the middle of the room, sank his legs, and assumed a horse stance.
For these three days, he hadn't stopped practicing. The combination of Qi Replenishing Powder and beef continued, and so did the expenditure of silver. But the effects were tangible.
Whoosh—
He punched out. The wind from his fist swept across the low table in front of him, pushing the coarse porcelain bowl on the tabletop half an inch.
In three days, his strength had increased by another sixty pounds.
He retracted his fist and stood firm, flexing his wrist.
According to the teachings of his mentor at the Hongyang Martial Hall decades ago, a third-rate martial artist should hone their strength to the limit before breaking through to the second-rate realm. This would not only solidify their foundation but also significantly increase their success rate in breaking through.
What were the exact words his mentor used back then?
"Your material is inferior to others, so you must grind more than others. When others rush to break through at nine hundred pounds, you should grind to eleven hundred or twelve hundred pounds. The deeper the foundation, the more stable the building."
Chen Anshun's mouth twitched slightly.
If the old man were still alive and saw him at eighty still practicing his horse stance, he'd probably whack him on the head with a cane.
But the mentor was right. His aptitude was lacking, so he naturally had to pursue the highest success rate for a breakthrough. Since the Hongyang Stance Art could still increase his strength, he would continue to practice, without haste.
But strength was only the foundation.
To break through from third-rate to second-rate, strength alone wasn't enough. He needed a cultivation method—the Jade Tree Treasure Robe Diagram.
The so-called Jade Tree Treasure Robe harnessed the essence of the jade tree, refining the marrow, skin, and membrane, allowing inner force to seep from the muscles into the bones, and from the bones into the skin, forming a complete cycle from the inside out. Once mastered, one would step into the second-rate realm.
Such cultivation methods were collectively known as "manuals" in the jianghu, with different names across various sects, but the principles were largely the same.
The Zhao Residence had one.
Moreover, the Zhao Residence was not stingy; they would even bestow manuals as rewards to stewards and servants who had rendered meritorious service. This was well-known in Qingquan County.
The most typical example was the head guard retainer of the Zhao Residence—Lin Wei.
Lin Wei was originally a third-rate martial artist. After serving as a guard retainer at the Zhao Residence for over a decade, he earned the favor of Master Zhao Guangfeng, who bestowed upon him the "Tiger Soldier Blazing Diagram."
With this manual, Lin Wei forcibly broke through from third-rate to second-rate, becoming the most formidable fighter in the Zhao Residence, second only to the head of the household.
Chen Anshun had pondered this path for more than a day.
He had worked at the Zhao Residence for twenty years, and even if he hadn't achieved great merit, he had certainly endured hardship. As the head stablehand, it wasn't impossible for him to request a manual.
But he needed to find the right opportunity.
As he was thinking, footsteps sounded outside the stable.
Steady, powerful, evenly paced.
It was Lin Wei.
Chen Anshun stood up and pulled the bolt on the door. Lin Wei had already reached the entrance. A man in his early forties, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, dressed in black fighting attire, with a standard short knife hanging from his waist.
He glanced into the stable, where Xiaochen was watering the horses in the distance, too far to hear their conversation.
Lin Wei lowered his voice and cupped his hands towards Chen Anshun.
"Old Chen, congratulations."
Chen Anshun set down the water ladle, unhurried.
"What joy is there?"
Lin Wei grinned but didn't press the matter.
He had seen what kind of person Tian Yang was.
Always trailing behind the Third Young Master, flattering him, openly and secretly trying to oust Old Chen and take over as the head stablehand.
Not only Chen Anshun, but several other senior stewards in the residence had been targeted by him, living in fear, cursing him privately for not following the rules.
Such a person, dead is dead.
"Alright, if you won't admit it, I won't pry."
Lin Wei waved his hand, then grew serious, glancing behind him.
"I have another matter to discuss with you."
"Speak."
"The Eldest Young Master has returned."
Chen Anshun's hand paused.
Zhao Youdao.
The legitimate eldest son of Zhao Guangfeng. He had left the residence ten years ago to travel and had not been heard from since. People in the residence had almost forgotten about him.
"The Eldest Young Master was just over ten when he left. He must be about twenty now." Chen Anshun recalled.
"Twenty-one." Lin Wei held up a finger. "And he didn't return alone. He brought two friends. A young man and a young woman, both very young, but their cultivation..."
He shook his head, rubbing his chin.
"I can't discern their depth."
Coming from Lin Wei, this statement carried weight. Lin Wei was a second-rate martial artist; for him to be unable to gauge someone's depth meant they were at least at the second-rate peak, if not higher.
"Be careful not to offend the esteemed guests in the coming days."
Chen Anshun nodded, about to respond.
Lin Wei suddenly froze. His gaze went past Chen Anshun's shoulder, landing on the garden path behind the stable, his expression instantly tense.
"They're here."
He quickly lowered his head, stepped back half a pace, and assumed a respectful posture.
Chen Anshun turned around.
Three people were walking along the garden path towards them.
Leading the way was a tall, upright young man, handsome, with sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, exuding a composed demeanor.
He wore a moon-white brocade robe, with a long sword at his waist, the scabbard inlaid with two thumb-sized emeralds. His steps were unhurried, carrying the noble air of a scion of a prestigious family.
Zhao Youdao. Though his appearance had changed considerably over the ten years, those eyes were carved from the same mold as Zhao Guangfeng's.
To his right was a tall young man, with dark skin, wearing a stone-blue martial artist's short robe, the cuffs tightly bound, his hands empty, yet walking with a readiness to strike at any moment.
To his left was a young woman.
Around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, with an oval face, willow brows, and almond eyes, her skin as white as snow.
She wore a light green dress, her hair adorned with a white jade hairpin, neat and tidy, without any extra ornaments. A floral-embroidered pouch hung at her waist, swaying slightly as she walked.
When the three were about twenty steps from the stable, the woman suddenly stopped.
She turned her head, looking in Chen Anshun's direction.
Her delicate brows arched slightly, her lips parting.
"Oh?"
Zhao Youdao and the dark-faced young man also stopped, following her gaze.
Chen Anshun stood at the stable door, hunched over, still holding the water ladle, looking every bit the honest stablehand. Beside him, Lin Wei kept his head down, not daring to breathe.
The woman tilted her head, a hint of interest flashing in her eyes.
"Brother Zhao, the old man tending horses at your residence is quite intriguing."