Liu Tang, a martial arts fanatic, was brimming with energy after awakening Bright Force. Watching Xiangzi practice his fists, he couldn’t resist sparring a few rounds.

In all of Harmony Rickshaw Yard, only Xiangzi could withstand a couple of his forceful strikes.

But setting aside the thrill of mastering Bright Force, Liu Tang was genuinely surprised. He’d used sixty to seventy percent of his strength, yet Xiangzi held his own?

That kid’s fists—they’re tough!

As Xiangzi turned, Liu Tang discreetly winced, touching his chest as if nothing happened.

A dull pain lingered there. Damn, this kid’s strength is only a fraction below mine?

What a monster!

With this thought, Liu Tang stretched, feigning a yawn to loosen his muscles, then spoke abruptly, “Xiangzi, ever thought about becoming an apprentice at a martial hall?”

Xiangzi froze, caught off guard.

In the East City, the sun shone warmly.

Liu Tang led Xiangzi and Uncle Jie through the bustling streets.

This was a personal outing, and with all three skilled in combat, they brought no guards.

For Xiangzi, it was a rare chance to soak in the lively atmosphere of this world’s streets.

With Forty-Nine City’s public offices closed for three days, noble ladies and officials’ daughters strolled in the spring breeze, dressed in silk blouses or foreign-style dresses. Some fashionable women even bared their fair shoulders, a striking sight.

The affluent East City, unlike the grimy South City, exuded prosperity. Ruixiang’s silks, Zhang Yuan’s teas, and Rentang’s pharmacies boasted grander signs than the last. Male students in long robes walked arm-in-arm with girls in foreign dresses, waiting outside Zhiguang Cinema for the latest black-and-white film. Nearby, Bamboo Boss’s Drunken Concubine performance at the opera house had sold out, leaving fans crowded at the gates, marveling at the faint sound of fluttering sleeves.

The streets teemed with people, a picture of peace and prosperity.

Fresh off awakening Bright Force, Liu Tang was in high spirits, meeting an old friend here and inviting Xiangzi and Uncle Jie to celebrate.

Their destination was Deyun Tower, one of East City’s finest establishments, its history tracing back to the founding of the Great Shun Dynasty. Rumor had it that even Marshal Zhang had summoned its chefs for his “Buddha Light Banquet.”

Marshal Zhang’s mother, a devout Buddhist, ate no meat, and Deyun Tower’s masters excelled at vegetarian dishes—they could make tofu skin taste like duck.

Deyun Tower’s fame came with a price. Even a small table in the main hall cost at least ten silver dollars, not to mention the private rooms upstairs.

But for Liu Tang, this was pocket change. As head guard, he earned fifty silver dollars monthly, plus the “extras” from the mine line—bits of ore dust and scraps from the baskets, which could be turned into top-grade gunpowder in West City, smokeless and pure. This wasn’t embezzlement but an old rickshaw yard custom from the Great Shun days, one even Fourth Master Liu couldn’t fault.

Liu Tang, generous by nature, unlike the stingy Liu Hu, shared these profits openly. As cart leader, Xiangzi got a ten percent cut—five extra silver dollars a month. Even second-rate pullers pocketed a few extra cents daily.

Everyone was pleased.

At Deyun Tower, a young attendant in silk led them to a second-floor private room.

Xiangzi noted the attendants’ fine attire. No wonder East City’s for the elite—people here outshine each other.

The diners, managers, and attendants all carried an air of refined elegance. In his plain blue shirt, Xiangzi felt out of place.

Noticing his unease, Liu Tang grinned. “Xiangzi, you’re a cart leader now. You’ll need to mingle more—get yourself a proper outfit soon.”

Xiangzi gave a wry smile and nodded.

The trio ascended slowly, Xiangzi trailing behind.

At the room’s entrance, he spotted a familiar figure—

Even in an elegant long robe, the man’s towering frame stood out. In the mines, this young noble warrior had left a strong impression on Xiangzi.

He gave me that bear heart.

Beside him stood a striking woman in a foreign dress, her fitted vest skirt accentuating her flawless waist, her long legs in riding boots utterly captivating.

Li Family’s Third Miss?

Xiangzi raised a brow but didn’t linger—what do noble warriors have to do with a rickshaw puller like me?

Inside, the table held delicate dishes, crafted with artistry bordering on divine.

Xiangzi couldn’t name the ingredients. Tasting them, he found them lackluster—pretty but bland, like high-end banquets from his past life, where simple things were overdone to justify the price.

Give me Bargain House’s roast duck any day—crisp skin, rich meat, bursting with primal satisfaction.

They ate and chatted, Xiangzi growing bored, Liu Tang distracted, waiting for someone.

When the door opened, Xiangzi was stunned.

It was the middle-aged warrior from months ago—Baolin Martial Hall’s former head disciple, Lin Junqing.

Still strikingly handsome, though his temples showed more gray, Lin Junqing entered with a gentle smile. Liu Tang jumped up. “Senior Brother, you’re early! I should’ve waited downstairs.”

Lin Junqing waved it off. “No need for formalities between us. Besides, I’m no head disciple anymore.”

Liu Tang sighed, personally adjusting Lin Junqing’s chair before sitting.

Lin Junqing’s gaze swept the room, pausing on Xiangzi with a flicker of surprise.

He remembered this big fellow—a rickshaw puller who’d visited the hall for Liu Tang months ago.

Now he’s a warrior, eyes sharp, aura robust? Such a change in so little time?

Sensing his thoughts, Liu Tang introduced, “Senior Brother, this is my little brother. He visited Baolin Martial Hall three months ago.”

Lin Junqing smiled. “I remember… Xiangzi, right?”

Xiangzi clasped his fists. “Just one meeting, and Master Lin remembers. Impressive.”

Lin Junqing chuckled. “A fine young man leaves an impression.”

Liu Tang, surprised by his usually reserved senior brother’s warmth toward Xiangzi, raised an eyebrow.

As dishes arrived, Xiangzi poured wine.

Laughter filled the room.

Lin Junqing shared tales of Liu Tang’s youth at the martial hall—sneaking laxatives into the instructor’s room to skip training, or, as a teenage apprentice, chasing after the Li Family’s Third Miss.

Liu Tang’s face flushed red and pale by turns.

Xiangzi learned Liu Tang, though raised as Fourth Master Liu’s adopted son, spent his youth at Baolin Martial Hall.