Half a month later,
Feng Yuan could already walk on his own.
This speed amazed even the Physician, who only remarked that the young man had a good constitution and strong healing capabilities.
Feng Yuan, however, felt something was amiss.
He clearly remembered the sensation of his ribs breaking and the dull ache of his internal organs being shaken.
Based on his knowledge from his previous life, injuries like this would take at least a hundred days to heal completely.
But now, aside from occasional soreness, he barely felt any pain.
It was as if a warm current flowed within his body, silently mending his broken frame while he slept.
Was this a perk of transmigration?
Feng Yuan stood beneath the Green Bamboo in the courtyard, slowly executing a set of Tai Chi moves he had learned from the elderly men in the park in his past life.
His movements were stiff and lacked proper form.
Yet, with every inch his muscles and bones moved, he felt strength returning, and perhaps... even stronger than the original owner’s memories suggested.
“Young Master, slow down, your injuries haven't fully healed yet,” Old Fang Feng Fang said, holding out the medicine bowl with a worried expression.
“It’s fine.”
Feng Yuan finished his punch, took the medicine bowl, and downed it in one gulp.
The thrice-daily medicine had become routine for him.
The bitter liquid slid down his throat, and he didn't even frown.
“How are the Xue Family’s businesses?” he asked.
Hou San’s expression brightened slightly.
“Master, the Xue Family’s recent business has indeed run into trouble.”
“Their biggest source of income in Jinling City is their status as Imperial Merchants, dealing in silk. But over the past month, the revenue from several of their shops has dropped by Thirty Percent or more.”
Feng Yuan’s eyes lit up.
“Who did it?”
“The Zhen Family!” Hou San lowered his voice, as if that surname held some kind of magic.
“The Zhen Family?” Feng Yuan searched his memory for that surname.
In the Red Chamber, the Zhen Family and the Jia Family were old acquaintances, holding the position of Jiangnan Textile Commissioner, immensely wealthy, and they even had a Bao Yu in their household.
How could they clash with the Xue Family?
“Tell me the details.”
Hou San cleared his throat. “For some unknown reason, the Zhen Family suddenly exerted great effort starting last month.”
“They introduced several new satins—the colors are vibrant, the texture is excellent, and the price is ten percent cheaper than the Xue Family’s. The female relatives of the major households in the city are now all asking for their goods.”
“The Xue Family tried to imitate them, but
they simply couldn't replicate it. As a result, their business was naturally snatched away.”
A slight curve appeared on Feng Yuan’s lips.
“The Zhen Family has the Retired Empress Dowager behind them.”
The clues in Feng Yuan’s mind instantly connected.
The Xue Family is related by marriage to the Wang Family, and Wang Ziteng of the Wang Family is the Commander of the Capital Garrison, essentially aligned with the New Emperor.
The Wang Family backs the Xue Family, and the New Emperor backs the Wang Family.
The Zhen Family is backed by Noble Consort Zhen, and Noble Consort Zhen is backed by the Retired Emperor’s old faction.
This is no longer simple commercial competition.
This is a battle between deities in the Imperial Court, and these two small fish in Jinling City have been caught in the crossfire.
“Good, very good,” Feng Yuan stood up and paced back and forth.
The light in his eyes grew stronger.
He had originally thought it would take ten or twenty years to shake the great tree that was the Xue Family.
But now, someone had handed him an axe.
All he needed to do was find an opportunity to help the Zhen Family deliver a heavy chop to that great tree.
“Feng Fang.”
“This old slave is here.”
“Withdraw three hundred Silver Taels from the accounts,” Feng Yuan’s voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable command.
Feng Fang was greatly alarmed: “Young Master, this… this is nearly half of the family’s liquid assets! What are you planning?”
“Invite a Teacher.”
Feng Yuan uttered three words.
“Inviting a Teacher wouldn't cost that much! Even the most famous scholar in Jinling City only charges a hundred taels a year for tuition.”
“I want to invite two Teachers,” Feng Yuan looked at him, emphasizing each word.
“One to teach me the writings of the Sages, as I intend to take the Imperial Examination.”
“The other to teach me the skill of killing, as I wish to Practice martial arts.”
Both Feng Fang and Hou San were stunned.
They could understand studying for the Imperial Examination, but practicing martial arts…
“Young Master, you are a scholar; wielding blades and spears is the work of crude martial artists!” Feng Fang was so anxious he was nearly kneeling.
“Crude?” Feng Yuan let out a cold laugh, pointing to the bruises on his body that hadn't completely faded.
“When I was lying on the ground like a dead dog, trampled by Xue Pan’s household slaves, could the writings of the Sages save me?”
“When the Family Fortune left by my parents is coveted, can the use of ‘zhi hu zhe ye’ protect it?”
“No!”
His voice suddenly rose, like an enraged young tiger.
“In this world, fists are reason! Power is the rule!”
“I will learn the art of slaying dragons to stabilize the nation, and I will also learn the skill of killing to defend myself and preserve my life!”
Feng Fang was struck speechless by his words, standing frozen on the spot.
He had never seen this Young Master before.
The former Young Master was refined and gentle, even somewhat weak.
The current Young Master seemed to hide knives in his eyes, and every word he spoke carried the scent of blood.
“Go and find them,” Feng Yuan’s tone returned to calm. “The Teachers must be the best. For literature, I need one who can pass the examinations. For martial arts, I need one who can kill enemies on the battlefield.”
He walked to the edge of the pond and looked at the reflection on the water—a face still bearing scars, but with sharp, piercing eyes.
Xue Pan, you thought you killed a scholar with no strength to even truss a chicken.
You were wrong.
What you woke up was a vengeful ghost from hell.
The conflict between the Zhen Family and the Xue Family would be his first stepping stone.
He didn't need to stand in the spotlight; he only needed to hide behind the scenes and give a gentle push.
Feng Yuan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The air still seemed to carry the smell of blood and dust from his mouth and nose when he was beaten that day.
He would never forget that smell.
It would constantly remind him that his hatred had not dissipated.