The next morning, Chu Bai woke up early as usual and practiced his Breathing Technique in the courtyard.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, the family was gathered around the square table for lunch, and Chu Bai casually brought up the matter of the sparring job.
"Dad, Mom, an instructor from the school introduced me to a job."
Chu Bai took a mouthful of rice, doing his best to keep his tone light. "A family in the city is looking for a study companion for their young master. I’d just be helping run errands, organize books, and things like that."
"Oh?" Chu Xianglin stopped his chopsticks, pleasantly surprised. "That’s wonderful news. How much do they pay?"
"Three hundred cents per session."
CLATTER.
The chopsticks in Chu Xianglin’s hand fell onto the table. His eyes widened as he suspected he’d misheard. "How much? Three hundred cents? For a single session?"
You have to understand, the harvest from the fields depended entirely on the weather. During the off-season, he would take odd jobs in town, and even after working himself to the bone for half a month, he might not be able to save up three hundred cents.
"Yes, they’re a wealthy family and quite generous." Chu Bai smiled as he picked up the chopsticks and handed them to his father. "Plus, the work is easy. It won’t get in the way of my cultivation, and I might even be able to learn something."
"Great! That’s wonderful!" Chu Xianglin’s face was flushed with excitement. "I always knew my son had promise! You haven’t even gotten into the Daoist School yet, and you’re already making good money!"
His mother, Li Qing, on the other hand, frowned slightly. Her face showed little joy, filled instead with worry. "Chu Bai, this pay... isn’t it a bit too much? Why would they pay so much for a simple study companion? Could there be some danger involved?"
’Mothers are always more perceptive.’
A warmth spread through Chu Bai’s heart, but his expression remained unchanged as he reassured her, "Don’t worry, Mom. Daoist Zhang arranged it himself. He wouldn’t lead me into a trap, would he? They value me because I’m a scholar and an Inner Sect Disciple. It’s a payment for my status, not for my strength."
Hearing that an "Immortal Master" had made the introduction, Li Qing finally relaxed a little. Still, she couldn’t help but add, "Well, you’d better be sharp while you’re at their mansion. Don’t go offending anyone important."
"I understand."
After the meal, Chu Bai returned to his room and changed into a clean short shirt, one his mother had made for him especially for the New Year.
Before heading out, he glanced back at their small courtyard. It was shabby, but it was home. He thought for a moment but, in the end, decided not to mention his second aunt hounding them for the debt.
’Those four taels of silver were a sword hanging over their heads, but they also represented his second uncle’s kindness. Since I can bear this burden, there’s no need to make my parents worry.’
"Dad, Mom, I’m heading out. I’ll be back before sunset."
Hurrying into the city, Chu Bai followed the address from Daoist Zhang and soon arrived at the affluent district in the southern part of the city, a place only wealthy merchants and gentry could afford.
The streets here were wide and clean, lined on both sides with shady green willows. Even the air seemed fresher than anywhere else.
In front of a large, red-lacquered gate bearing a plaque that read "Zhao Mansion," Chu Bai saw a familiar figure.
Gu Qinghe was standing by one of the stone lions, nervously clutching the hem of his clothes and repeatedly craning his neck to peer around the street corner.
"Brother Gu," Chu Bai called as he walked over.
"Brother Chu! You’re finally here!" Gu Qinghe looked as if he’d just found his anchor, letting out a visible sigh of relief. "This is... well, it’s my first time at such a grand residence. I’m feeling a bit out of my depth."
Chu Bai clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "What’s there to be afraid of? We’re earning this money with our skills; we’re not here to steal or rob anyone. Come on."
The two of them straightened their clothes and approached the gatekeeper, handing over Daoist Zhang’s wooden token.
The gatekeeper took the wooden token and glanced at it. While his attitude was far from respectful, he didn’t give them any trouble, simply stating flatly, "Wait here."
A moment later, a side door opened, and a middle-aged man in martial attire stepped out.
The man’s face was stern, and his gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, swept over them. The faint, oppressive aura he gave off made Chu Bai’s heart tighten. ’This is a real Cultivator.’
"My name is Wuu Shang, and I am Young Master Zhao’s Instructor," the middle-aged man said in a deep voice. "Since Fellow Daoist Zhang recommended you, I presume you have some basic skills. Follow me."
The two hurried to keep up, passing through several deep courtyards until they reached a secluded but remarkably spacious side courtyard.
The moment they stepped through the gate, the acrid smell of something scorched hit them.
They saw that the vast training ground was littered with blackened and shattered wooden posts and straw dummies. The ground itself was pockmarked with craters, looking as though a small battle had just been fought there.
In the center of the training ground stood a young man of about eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a fine brocade robe. He had his hands clasped behind his back, a look of arrogance and impatience on his face.
"Young Master Zhao, the sparring partners are here," Wuu Shang said, stepping forward and clasping his hands.
Young Master Zhao shot a sideways glance at Chu Bai and Gu Qinghe and snorted. "These are the people Elder Zhang found? They’re nothing but skin and bones. Can they even take a hit?"
"They possess Qi Sensitivity, so their reflexes are naturally superior to a Mortal’s," Wuu Shang replied flatly. He then turned to the pair. "Wait over on the side and observe my instruction."
Chu Bai and Gu Qinghe quickly retreated to the corner of the wall, standing as still as a pair of wooden stakes.
Wuu Shang paid them no more mind and began instructing Young Master Zhao. "Young Master, your last few uses of the Fire Bomb Technique had smooth Spiritual Qi circulation, but your control at the instant of release is far too poor. A Magic Technique isn’t something you just toss out. It should be like a Flying Saber, hitting precisely where you aim."
"Enough with the nonsense," Young Master Zhao cut in impatiently. "I just need it to be powerful enough. Who cares about accuracy? As long as it blows them to smithereens, the job is done, isn’t it?"
"Even the greatest power is useless if it misses the mark." Wuu Shang shook his head and pointed to a relatively intact straw target about ten paces away. "Try again. Sink your Qi into your Dantian, and let your will guide your mind."
Standing in the corner, Chu Bai appeared subservient with his head lowered, but in truth, his entire focus was locked on the center of the training ground.
He stared intently at Young Master Zhao’s hands.
He watched as Young Master Zhao took a deep breath, his hands quickly forming a Spell.
As he moved, Chu Bai could clearly perceive the Fire Element Spiritual Energy in the air converging on the young master’s palms like moths drawn to a flame.
’So this is a Magic Technique...’ Chu Bai’s pupils constricted. Though he couldn’t hear the Heart Method Mantra, he could still make out the general path of the Spiritual Qi as it flowed through the young master’s meridians.
The next moment, Young Master Zhao barked, "Go!" A brilliant red light flared in his palm.
FWOOSH!
A fist-sized, crimson Fireball shot forward with a roar, trailing a wave of scorching heat. It streaked in a straight line and slammed precisely into the straw target.
BOOM!
The straw target instantly blew apart. The cloud of straw fragments ignited in mid-air before they could even fall, showering down as countless sparks of fire.
As for the wooden post it had been mounted on, only a charred, broken stump remained, billowing thick black smoke.
GULP.
Gu Qinghe swallowed hard, his face instantly turning deathly pale.
The corner of Chu Bai’s eye twitched.
’This is a practice Magic with *reduced* power?’
’This is what they call "a bit of physical suffering"?’
’If this damn thing hit someone, even if they were wearing iron armor, their insides would probably be shattered from the force alone, and then they’d be cooked to a crisp!’
They looked at each other, and each saw the raw terror in the other’s eyes.
’This three hundred cents definitely isn’t easy money!’
Just then, Wuu Shang slowly turned his head to look at the two of them in the corner.
"Did you see clearly?"
He pointed to the charred wreckage on the ground, his voice devoid of all emotion.
"For the next double-hour... you will be the straw targets."

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