Although the old Daoist very much wanted to take Li Chang’an as his disciple, after a long hesitation, he ultimately abandoned the idea. Instead, he said, "Your talent is astonishing. You’ve already stepped onto the path of the Martial Dao simply by exploring on your own, so you don’t need much guidance from others..."
"How about this: I’ll be staying near Sanhuang County for a while. When I have the time, I’ll come and guide you in your cultivation!"
Li Chang’an didn’t understand why the old Daoist was going to all this trouble.
But since it would still achieve the same goal of learning from a master, he had no reason to refuse. He nodded immediately and said, "Then thank you, Daoist!"
The old Daoist waved his hand, a broad smile on his face. "The Jianghu is so dull these days. It’s rare for an anomaly like you to appear. I imagine that even if it weren’t me here today, any Martial Artist from the Central Plains would refuse to stand by and watch you waste your talent!"
...
In the seventh month of the 238th year of the Yaoqing King Calendar, Li Chang’an was five and a half years old.
He was strong and robust, yet his features were exceptionally delicate and handsome.
True to his word, the old Daoist would arrive punctually at Li Family Village every ten to fifteen days to personally instruct Li Chang’an.
Even on the rare occasions he was too busy, he would send Lü Changning to teach in his stead.
The Martial Dao of this world was divided into six realms. From lowest to highest, they were: Martial Artist, Martial Master, Martial King, Martial Saint, Emperor Wu, and Martial God.
The mark of becoming a Martial Artist was Energy Introduction.
To become a Martial Master, one had to compress and condense the Qi within their Dantian into a liquid.
Advancement to a Martial King required further compressing the Qi in one’s Dantian into a solid state.
Once a cultivator reached the Martial King realm, the gap between them and an ordinary person was like a vast chasm. A typical Martial King possessed immense reserves of Qi, was impervious to blades and spears, and could face a hundred enemies without fear.
As for the even higher realm of Martial Saint, the Qi in their body roiled like a boiling sea. Their every move was filled with an astonishing might that ordinary people could scarcely imagine.
Such individuals were already considered great figures standing at the apex of the Martial Arts World.
Across the entire Martial Arts World, a Martial Saint-level expert might not even appear once in several decades, or even a century.
As for Emperor Wu and Martial God, the realms above Martial Saint, not even the old Daoist—let alone Li Chang’an—knew how terrifying they truly were. He only knew of them from mentions in ancient records.
It was said that an Emperor Wu could already command a portion of the Power of Heaven and Earth, making ordinary Martial Artists seem like nothing more than ants in their eyes.
In the current Martial Arts World, the expert widely acknowledged as having come closest to the Emperor Wu realm in the last five hundred years was the founding ancestor of the Yaoqing Royal Court, five hundred years prior.
This just went to show how much weight the title of Emperor Wu truly carried.
Receiving this influx of Martial Dao knowledge, Li Chang’an was like a sapling nourished by rain. His progress was nothing short of divine. Without much effort, he broke through from the Martial Artist realm to become a Martial Master.
...
Meanwhile, it was worth noting that in June of that year, the time for the annual ritual sacrifice to the River God had come around again.
The Sanhuang County Magistrate, just as in years past, dispatched men to collect the annual tribute of money and grain.
Unlike in the past, however, the money and grain collected by Magistrate Chai never reached the county seat. It was ambushed and stolen on the road by a band of the Rebel Army.
In truth, this Rebel Army had been active in the area for two years, but they had previously confined their activities to plaguing the two neighboring counties. This was their first real conflict with Sanhuang County.
Had it been any other matter, Magistrate Chai might have tolerated it.
But a significant portion of the funds for the River God sacrifice was destined for Magistrate Chai’s own pockets!
Stealing a man’s wealth is like murdering his parents.
Upon hearing that the tribute had been stolen, Magistrate Chai flew into a rage. He immediately had notices posted and ordered the guards at the checkpoints around Sanhuang County to be reinforced.
At the same time, wanted posters and bounty notices were put up in all the villages.
Any citizen who provided the Imperial Court with information on the Rebel Army would be rewarded with twenty taels of silver. Capturing a member of the Rebel Army would earn a reward of fifty taels of silver!
After this news spread, the two Daoists did not visit for nearly a month.
Just as Li Chang’an was starting to wonder, he saw a name at the very top of the bounty notice at the village entrance, written in large, bold script: Wang Su!
The name was both familiar and unfamiliar.
’The old Daoist never told me his real name, but I have the system, so I’ve known it for years. No wonder the old Daoist was reluctant to be associated with me. Turns out he’s the leader of the Rebel Army!’
After learning this, Li Chang’an stroked his chin. ’This is getting interesting.’ His thoughts began to race; he seemed to have found a way to further expand his influence.
’After all, I’ll be turning six in another year.’
’According to my pre-determined fate, the entirety of Sanhuang County will be devastated by a flood next year.’
’Since ancient times, natural disasters have always been intertwined with man-made calamities.’
Now that he knew the old Daoist was the leader of the Rebel Army, Li Chang’an’s mind began to churn with ideas.
’For one thing, with my absolute advantage in information, all I have to do is stockpile grain in advance. When the flood hits, I can use the opportunity to gather refugees and form my own faction!’
However, the thought of tens of thousands of innocent people being displaced made him let out a long sigh. He muttered to himself, "Forget it. I know it’s probably useless, but I should at least try my best. Whatever the final result, it’s out of my hands."
「In the third month of Yaoqing King Calendar year 239」
Just before the rainy season, Li Chang’an left home. He traveled to the various towns and villages along the lower reaches of the Three Yellow Rivers, spreading news of the impending flood.
However, he had only visited a few villages before residents reported him. A group of government officials, believing he was a troublemaker spreading malicious rumors, chased him for over a mile.
Even so, he didn’t give up. He visited every single village along the lower reaches of the Three Yellow Rivers, leaving his mark.
Unfortunately, no one paid him any mind, and certainly no one believed him.
Everyone treated him like a lunatic. Eventually, he even became a local ’celebrity’ in the riverside villages, with many people shouting for him to leave the moment they saw him from afar.
Li Chang’an could only sigh at this.
’Sometimes, it’s hard to be the bad guy, but it’s even harder to be the good guy.’
He realized he couldn’t change the grand course of events by himself, so he had to settle for the next best thing: making preparations within Li Family Village.
Not much time passed.
In June of that same year, torrential rains suddenly burst forth around the Three Yellow Rivers. To make matters worse, a malevolent Flood Dragon upstream stirred the winds and roiled the waters, turning the river upside down. A monstrous flood smashed through the dikes and poured out, submerging tens of thousands of acres of fertile farmland on both banks like a roaring, crimson dragon!
When the downpour finally ceased, the banks of the Three Yellow Rivers were littered with corpses. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but the bloated, rotting bodies of people and livestock.
A child weeping, clutching the bodies of its parents...
A wife who had lost her husband...
The scenes of grief were endless, like a silent, macabre play.
Li Chang’an had led the people of his village to high ground ahead of time, allowing them to easily escape the disaster. Yet, witnessing the hellish aftermath with his own eyes, his heart churned with a myriad of complex emotions.
Without a doubt, this flood was not the end of the people’s suffering.
On the contrary, it was only the beginning.
...