Lately, Jiang Wangshui and Xu Xiaoliu had been diligent in the second-class courtyard, urging each other on in their training. Their progress in the skin-tempering technique of the Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions was notable, and they were gearing up to aim for top marks in next week’s skin-tempering trial.

As the conversation turned to this, the two eagerly sought Xiangzi’s advice on the intricacies of skin tempering. Xiangzi held nothing back, patiently explaining the knack of channeling blood energy. The pair nodded repeatedly, their admiration for him growing.

Yet Xiangzi noticed that Lu Qi, who was quietly eating, hadn’t said a word, seeming out of place.

Perhaps sensing Xiangzi’s thoughts, Xu Xiaoliu said with forced ease, “Little Qi’s given up his apprentice status. But he’s not without talent—last week, he scored two second-class marks and was picked by Baolin Martial Hall to become a miscellaneous courtyard disciple. We might end up relying on him in the future.”

Lu Qi froze at those words, then gave a bitter smile and set down his chopsticks. “Brother Xiaoliu, no need to sugarcoat it. Becoming a miscellaneous courtyard disciple is just a fancy way of saying I’m a gatekeeper’s errand boy, scraping by for a full meal.”

“But,” he added, a hint of relief crossing his pale face, “even with ‘miscellaneous courtyard’ in the name, I’m still a disciple of the martial hall. I heard my dad set up several banquet tables at home these past few days, collecting plenty of congratulatory gifts. That loan’s starting to look manageable.”

Though he spoke lightly, his friends could only muster strained smiles. Everyone knew Lu Qi’s talent wasn’t poor—maybe not on par with Xu Xiaoliu, but possibly even better than Jiang Wangshui. He’d chosen to become a miscellaneous courtyard disciple because he’d abandoned his martial path. Without reaching the first-class apprentice level, the costly tonics required for martial progress were beyond his means. If Lu Qi had pushed for first-class status, even if he somehow earned a chance at the Bone-Strengthening Broth, his family would likely collapse under the strain. After all, the money for his apprentice trial fees came from a “Yama Loan” his accountant father had borrowed from Righteous Virtue House.

At the thought of Righteous Virtue House, Xiangzi’s brow furrowed. Isn’t that the gambling den run by Chen Jiang and Chen Hai’s family?

With a casual smile, he asked Jiang Wangshui, “That Chen Jiang hasn’t been giving you trouble again, has he?”

Before Jiang Wangshui could answer, a loud thud rang out.

All eyes turned to the sound.

Lu Qi’s face was ashen, his bowl and chopsticks clattering to the ground.

—

“Little Qi, what’s wrong?” Xu Xiaoliu hurried to pick up the fallen items, puzzled.

Lu Qi, pale as death, took a long moment to recover. He grabbed the bowl and chopsticks, but no words came, his face etched with despair.

He’d always been quiet, but since joining the miscellaneous courtyard, he’d grown even more withdrawn, often muttering to himself—a source of worry for Xu Xiaoliu. Tonight’s gathering had only happened because Xu Xiaoliu had dragged him along.

Seeing his state, the others assumed it was the heartbreak of abandoning his martial path, his emotions overwhelming him. Only Xiangzi frowned slightly. Did hearing Chen Jiang’s name cause this breakdown?

“Xiangzi, eat up, don’t let Jiang Wangshui hog it all!” Xu Xiaoliu teased.

“You punk, you prepared so little—how’s this enough?” Jiang Wangshui shot back.

“If Young Master Jiang wants more, go buy some demon beast meat!” Xu Xiaoliu retorted.

“Hey, Xiaoliu, you picking a fight? The kitchen’s closed—where am I supposed to get demon beast meat?”

Laughter erupted, and Xiangzi joined in, his earlier suspicions fading. Only Lu Qi remained wooden, staring blankly at the meat in his bowl, chopsticks unmoving.

In the moonlight, his pale face lacked even a trace of color.

—

The night swayed, silent and still.

Lu Qi walked through the darkness, his back hunched, carefully keeping to the shadows. When he reached the second-class apprentice courtyard, the small figure paused.

Moonlight bathed his face, highlighting its pallor and inner turmoil. This was the first courtyard of the second-class apprentices, different from the third-class communal dorms. Here, apprentices shared rooms in pairs. But this particular room stood apart—secluded, lit only by flickering candles, clearly housing just one occupant.

Lu Qi lingered at the door, his expression shifting, but he hesitated to knock.

Suddenly, a gruff voice came from inside. “Who’s loitering at Master Chen’s door?”

With a bang, the door flew open, revealing a round, glistening belly.

Lu Qi’s face twitched. Before he could speak, a large hand yanked him inside.

“Heh, my little treasure, right on time tonight!” The scent of locust blossoms, growing stronger as summer neared, filled the room as soon as the door opened.

Lu Qi leaned against the door, staring at the oily, grinning face before him. Revulsion churned in his gut, but he dared not show it, lowering his head and stammering, “Master Chen… as you said before, this is the last night.”

Perhaps stirred by the fragrance of the blossoms, Chen Jiang’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. “Heh, you’re a clever little devil! Master Chen always keeps his word. Serve me well tonight, and your dad’s loan? Wiped clean!”

Chen Jiang’s voice was sticky, dripping into Lu Qi’s ears, sending a shiver through him. Seeing his reaction, Chen Jiang’s excitement only grew.

Bang. The door slammed shut.

—

A lone candle flickered on its stand, its flame wavering.

Chen Jiang sat up, his round belly jiggling as he shuffled to a copper basin and splashed water on his face. A lingering grin played on his lips. “Well, damn… come back tomorrow night.”

Lu Qi, huddling in a corner as he pulled on his clothes, trembled. His voice carried a sob. “Master Chen, didn’t you say tonight was the last time?”

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? These past days only covered the principal. The interest? That’s still outstanding.”

“Master Chen,” Lu Qi pleaded, his voice breaking.

Chen Jiang let out a low grunt, raising his hand.

Slap. A crisp sound rang out.

Lu Qi froze, clutching his face as tears rolled down.

“Hey, don’t make Master Chen angry,” Chen Jiang said, pinching Lu Qi’s cheek with a smug grin. “Tomorrow night… tomorrow’s definitely the last time. Relax, Master Chen’s word is iron—no tricks!”

—

Bang. The door opened.

Lu Qi stumbled out, his pale face marked by a vivid slap print, glowing bruise-purple in the moonlight. Tears still clung to his eyes, his mind in chaos. He didn’t bother hiding as he usually did, just ran forward.

Suddenly, a dark figure blocked his path.

Lu Qi gasped, but before he could cry out, iron-like hands gripped his chest, dragging him into a secluded corner.

He struggled to shout, but a low, muffled voice came from under the figure’s hooded robe. “Hey… Lu Qi, do you want the whole martial hall to know you’ve been Chen Jiang’s plaything?”

Lu Qi’s mind buzzed, his strength draining as he slumped, head bowed.

The figure pulled back the hood, revealing a face Lu Qi never expected. “Lu Qi… want to be free of that scum Chen Jiang?”

The figure drew a heavy cloth sack from their robes and tore it open with a clink.

A pile of silver dollars gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Lu Qi’s eyes locked onto the coiled dragon patterns on the coins, swallowing hard.

“Sixty silver dollars here,” the figure said, voice low and enticing. “Do what I say, and you’ll get another sixty. One hundred twenty silver dollars—enough to clear your father’s loan and free you from that bastard’s grip.”

Lu Qi’s heart jolted, a flush of excitement coloring his pale face, making the slap mark stand out even more. His hands clutched the sack, knuckles whitening.

Clink. The coins rang crisply in the quiet night.

“What… what do you want me to do?” Lu Qi’s voice trembled.

In the shadow of the moonlight, a sly smile curved the figure’s lips as they slowly drew out a small medicinal pouch. “You’re a miscellaneous courtyard disciple. This is child’s play for you.”

“Just add this to it tomorrow, and no one will ever know.”