Chapter 5: Bow And Blade
Coming out from the shop on the west side, the marketplace faintly echoed with the discussions of passersby.
“A Treasure Plant has appeared. Don’t know which village’s young brother found a Yin Red Root.”
“Yin Red Root, that must be worth over ten taels of silver?”
“More than that? Steward Song personally inspected it. I reckon it’s dozens of taels.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“Didn’t dare. Steward Song was right there. Who would go up? I’d say it was some old ghost who specially sent a kid to sell it.”
Word spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred, whispers of discussion nonstop. Whether Mountain Hunters, Hunters, or firewood gatherers, all cast envious gazes.
A single Treasure Plant was enough to change a family’s circumstances.
Su Yan listened with some exasperation, though—just over seven taels of silver turned into such a tale.
He ignored the rumors and quickened his pace to the street on the east side.
This street was much wider, the voices of passing Mountain Villagers seemingly much quieter, even drowned out by the clanging ironworking sounds from the Tian Feng Weapon Shop branch on the street corner.
At this time, the shops in the city had no notion of the customer being god. Mountain Villagers were cautious, taking care not to cause trouble.
This was also the way for common folk to protect themselves.
Su Yan first bought daily necessities like oil, salt, soy, vinegar, and rice, spending about three hundred cash.
Then he bought two pairs of Mountain Hunter shoes to replace his Straw Sandals. These were a bit pricier, costing over seven hundred cash.
After finishing these purchases, Su Yan went straight to the Tian Feng Weapon Shop branch.
Clanging sounds rang without end. Before even entering the door, a wave of heat hit his face.
Inside the shop, two Master Craftsmen and six or seven Apprentice shop assistants, bare-chested with sturdy muscles exposed, hammered away at ironware one strike after another, sweat streaming without a moment’s rest.
As the saying goes, life’s three hardships: poling a boat, ironworking, grinding tofu.
Surrounded by the furnace all day, no rest for half a day—it was grueling physical labor.
Even so, those wanting to apprentice at Tian Feng Weapon Shop were endless.
“Young brother, do you want to forge farm tools or pick some handy self-defense item?”
As soon as he entered, a somewhat neatly dressed shop assistant came up.
Not bare-chested, but in coarse short cloth clothes, with a sweat rag tucked at his waist.
The Dali Dynasty revered martial prowess, neither banning weapons nor prohibiting them.
“One Hardwood Bow for hunting, one Mountain-splitting Dao.”
Su Yan was concise, stating his intent.
“One Mountain-splitting Dao is two taels three mace of silver. For the Hardwood Bow, young brother, do you want a fifty power Hardwood Bow or a sixty power one?”
Bow draw strength was directly measured in jin by the craftsmen, saving the trouble of conversion.
‘Bamboo Bow lacks power and accuracy. Even old or tough bamboo tops out at around thirty jin, can’t take down big game. With my power growth, fifty jin won’t last long, nor will sixty.’
So he said: “Do you have a seventy jin Hardwood Bow? And a quiver of Arrows.”
“We do. Tian Feng Weapon Shop may not have everything else, but weapons we absolutely have. Even sharp weapon grade strong bows we can sell you.”
The shop assistant spoke with full confidence—this was indeed their strength.
“Sharp Weapon?”
Curiosity piqued, Su Yan asked casually.
The shop assistant, eager to show off, said: “Sharp Weapons are top-grade arms forged by master smiths—hair-splitting, iron-cutting like mud, adding three parts might in a fight.”
Weapon and body complement each other. Though ironworking requires personal hardness, between two evenly matched people, one pulling a Dagger, the other a Cleaver—the outcome differs. Su Yan always understood this: having a weapon versus not is worlds apart.
“However…”
Before he could reply, the shop assistant changed tack: “However, Sharp Weapons aren’t just expensive—at least dozens of taels each—their weight and required strength are beyond ordinary folk.”
As he spoke, remembering Su Yan was a customer, he stopped and said: “Young brother, seventy jin power Hardwood Bow and a quiver of thirty Arrows, total five taels of silver. How about it?”
“Buy them all.”
Su Yan was straightforward, though it still pained him. He’d barely earned ten taels of silver, and after these buys, only a bit over two remained.
The shop assistant took the silver, beaming, fetched the bow, Arrows, and Dao from the shop, and handed them to Su Yan.
“Young brother, here’s your bow and blade. Try if they feel right.”
The Mountain-splitting Dao was about one point five meters long, with a medium-short handle for one- or two-handed grip, the blade not heavy, around four jin.
The Hardwood Bow was jet black throughout, layered hardwoods with embedded animal sinew, the body fully wrapped, gleaming with oily shine.
Su Yan hefted it, plucked the Bowstring, and nodded: “Thanks.”
Dao at his waist, bow and Arrows on his back—though still carrying the Backpack, he looked just like a Hunter.
Purchases done, Su Yan didn’t linger and strode out of the Mountain Market.
He’d barely gone half a li out of the Mountain Market when suddenly from the path’s Grass and Trees, a man jumped out.
“Fine Yan Ge’er, worthy of Big Brother Su’s tiger cub—actually found a Treasure Plant.”
The man grinned cheekily, cupping hands in mock praise, but he was monkey-thin, face without an ounce of flesh, lips thin as a blade.
“Wang San?”
Su Yan’s eyes narrowed, a cold smile on his face: “What do you want?”
Wang San, Yun Qian Village’s notorious loafer, thirty-something bachelor, lazy good-for-nothing.
Though he inherited his late father’s Mountain Hunting trade, his Backpack often went in empty and came out empty.
Besides stealing chickens, touching dogs, and begging, he just hung with Niu Han’s gang of ruffians for scraps.
Just something people despised and dogs shunned.
Wang San caught the displeasure in Su Yan’s words but didn’t care, his face thicker than a City Wall by three parts.
He stepped forward two paces, rubbed his hands, bowed slightly, and whispered: “Nothing much, just brother wants to ask brother for a little bonus. Brother here’s a bit tight lately.”
His shifty eyes gleamed, thinking: ‘They say share half on meeting. I’m Wang San, righteous—taking a small bonus isn’t over.’
Su Yan scoffed: “Wang San, are you daydreaming?”
Wang San showed annoyance, cursing inwardly: how ungracious.
He could only say: “Yan Ge’er, don’t flaunt wealth. You don’t want everyone knowing you got a Treasure Plant, right?”
Though a rogue, Wang San knew well not to flaunt wealth.
Su Yan, orphaned, a half-grown youth—could he guard these silvers?
Bound to leak, someone comes knocking to eat out the orphan.
‘Pity not in Yunling Mountain Old Forest.’
Regret flashed in Su Yan’s eyes. If in the Old Forest, Wang San’s grave would grass over next year.
This spot not far from Mountain Market—who knows if Wang San was seen coming. Direct action wasn’t suitable.
Besides, the Treasure Plant matter being known was just a matter of time.
“Then speak. You really think this Treasure Plant is mine?”
Su Yan calm, grabbed Wang San’s shoulder like a chick, immense strength making Wang San hurt.
“Ouch, you… you…”
Before Wang San could curse, Su Yan flicked the flat of the Dao, knocking him down, a red mark on his face, rolling in yellow mud, utterly wretched.
Su Yan strode off. Wang San fumed silently, fearing Su Yan’s strength first, and suspecting second that Su Yan was backed by some Mountain Hunters, pushed forward as the front.
“Pah, I’ll see who you’re with!”
Wang San still angry, but Su Yan had vanished by the road, hurrying home.
He unpacked the Backpack’s oil, salt, soy, vinegar, and daily goods entirely, storing the Hardwood Bow and Mountain-splitting Dao in the Insect Realm Space.
He took out the Hundred Herbs Illustration and flipped through. On the yellowed paper, simple sketches of various Herbs, with tiny script a quarter fingernail size on the left, describing the Herbs and their effects.
“Rather basic, but usable. Just don’t know what that Steward plans.”
As the saying goes, no gift without expectation.
How was a little Mountain Hunter worth him giving a Booklet? Did he think himself a big shot?
Su Yan put away the Booklet, muttering: “Gift not grand, plot not heavy—suits me fine. Later there’ll be plenty Treasure Plants and Herbs. Hooking up with Hundred Herbs Hall saves much effort.”
Song Qi had his aims, Su Yan his plans—each getting what they needed.
Buying the Hundred Herbs Illustration at the shop was initially just to leave an impression, paving way for selling top Herbs and Treasure Plants later.
Unexpected gain was good—who knew how he’d handle it.
Su Yan checked the time—still midday—picked up the Backpack, and strode toward Yunling Mountain.
This time he didn’t enter deep, found a secluded direction, walked about two li of Mountain Path to a deserted spot.
Towering trees, branches like a canopy. Midday sun cast only speckled light.
Surrounding Shrubs were dense but only waist-high, not blocking sight.
He released the Yin Water Centipede, then tossed yesterday’s two Scorpion corpses and Toad corpse aside.
The Yin Water Centipede didn’t stand on ceremony, devouring in big bites.
Done, Su Yan took out the Hardwood Bow and Arrows, aiming at an old birch trunk seventy paces away.
Feet steady, stance shoulder-wide, Su Yan nocked an Arrow, aimed at the old bark folds on the trunk, and loosed with a whoosh.
Arrow veered half a palm’s width, missing. Su Yan unperturbed, drew another and continued shooting.
‘Mountain Hunting Skill was taught by Uncle Xie. Over time it improved, manifesting as a skill. Though I lack Archery techniques, practice to a point and Archery will form naturally.’
Su Yan resolved. That old trunk seemed a bright red target in his eyes.
Arrow after arrow, thirty Arrows spent, each requiring great effort to draw.
Honing strength while practicing Archery—even resting, Su Yan studied the Hundred Herbs Illustration intently.
Thus repeating, he trained for three or five days straight.
