Li Muzhan opened his Void Eye, seeing everything clearly, and shook his head secretly, sighing that Hu Xiaofeng was not a good match. He wondered if Cao Miao- would be fooled.

Even the cleverest woman becomes ordinary once entangled in the snares of love. Judging by Cao Miao-'s demeanor—so real yet so ephemeral, present yet distant—even his seasoned experience couldn't decipher her intentions, let alone Hu Xiaofeng's.

He feared that Cao Miao- might have started this as mere sport, a casual game, only to later find herself hopelessly entangled. Such emotional games are like playing with fire; one can get burned at any moment.

As evening approached, the large boat docked at a pier not far from the small town.

Hu Ruilin suggested they take a stroll into the city. The journey had been completely calm, with no assassins in pursuit, suggesting the Mo Hu Gang was truly finished. They felt no concern, and Cao Ya agreed. Thus, the group disembarked and entered the nearby city, Fengming.

Cao Ya and Cao Miao- rode in sedan chairs, while the rest walked. Bing-Shu Mi Lou for the fastest text updates.

Having served as an official for so long, he had formed the habit of maintaining a spotless reputation, cherishing his standing; every move he made was calculated to preserve his public image. Hu Ruilin laughed a couple of times and did not press the matter further.

Cao Ya’s sedan chair led, followed by Cao Miao-’s. Li Muzhan walked beside Cao Ya’s chair, keeping pace with long, steady strides.

Hu Ruilin followed beside Cao Miao-’s chair, while Hu Xiaofeng walked alongside Li Muzhan.

The last rays of the setting sun painted everything around them crimson. Li Muzhan strode along like a shooting star beneath the glow, while Hu Xiaofeng occasionally tapped his toes, gliding past ten meters at a time, utterly relaxed, his demeanor far lighter than Li Muzhan’s.

He glanced at Li Muzhan from time to time and shook his head. Li Muzhan smiled and remarked, "Brother Hu's Qinggong is quite good!"

"You don't know Qinggong?" Hu Xiaofeng, clad in a green robe, his face like polished jade, was truly handsome and dashing.

Li Muzhan shook his head and smiled. Hu Xiaofeng glanced back at Hu Ruilin, who ignored him. Hu Xiaofeng sighed, knowing his father didn't want Li Muzhan taught Qinggong.

Li Muzhan, sensing the unspoken boundary, wisely refrained from asking. Hu Xiaofeng then shook his head again. "Your 'Eight Methods of Drinking the Tiger' are not practiced well; there's been little progress."

Li Muzhan replied, "I've been too preoccupied with my studies and forgot to practice."

"Sigh..." Hu Xiaofeng shook his head. "You truly don't know how to cherish what you have. If you mastered the Eight Methods of Drinking the Tiger, becoming a master is certain; even if you couldn't defeat an opponent, you could at least protect yourself!"

Li Muzhan smiled, "I haven't had enough time."

Hu Xiaofeng pouted. "Others start reading when they are young, when memory is sharpest. Memory fades with age. You are already past the prime age for studying; you’ve fallen too far behind. Forget about passing the imperial exams!"

"Teacher once said that where there's a will, there's a way. It's not too late to catch up now," Li Muzhan said with a smile.

Hu Xiaofeng scoffed, shaking his head. "Uncle Cao was just comforting you! ... Forget it, teaching you the Eight Methods of Drinking the Tiger was truly casting pearls before swine!"

Li Muzhan replied, "Thank you for the reminder, Brother Hu. I'll practice an extra couple of times then—twice a day!"

"Twice!?" Hu Xiaofeng exclaimed, "You only practice twice?!"

Li Muzhan nodded. "Once in the morning and once in the evening. Isn't that enough?"

The two walked alongside Cao Ya’s sedan chair, talking as they went. Hu Ruilin, walking not far behind, could hear them clearly and shook his head.

Hu Xiaofeng waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it, forget it. There's no making you understand. You’re treating this purely as simple calisthenics for health, not as a true pursuit!"

Li Muzhan chuckled, "I do feel a slight warmth in my body, though."

"Really!?" Hu Xiaofeng squinted at him, frowning.

Li Muzhan nodded. "Why would I lie to Brother Hu? See for yourself."

He extended his hand. Hu Xiaofeng, still shaking his head, reached out to feel his pulse, inwardly lamenting that this man was utterly clueless—how could one so easily let a stranger touch their wrist?

He felt the pulse, then glared at Li Muzhan with helplessness. "Are you truly only practicing twice a day?"

Li Muzhan nodded. "I occasionally slack off and only do it once."

"That’s enough, that’s enough, you don't need to say more!" Hu Xiaofeng waved his hand irritably. "Comparing people truly drives one mad!"

Li Muzhan smiled. "Am I practicing incorrectly?"

Hu Xiaofeng glared back crossly. "Hmph. Father said your aptitude was good, and he was right. If others practiced as you do, they wouldn't even dream of developing internal energy!"

Li Muzhan smiled. "Perhaps it's just my luck!"

Hu Xiaofeng grew angrier. He vividly recalled spending an entire month practicing the Eight Methods of Drinking the Tiger, practicing relentlessly, resting only briefly before resuming, until finally, after a month of grueling effort, he found a sliver of Qi sensation and cultivated internal energy.

Yet Li Muzhan achieved this internal energy in just seven or eight days, practicing only once or twice daily. The sheer difference between them was devastating to his self-confidence.

He had always been arrogant, believing himself superior, yet he was outclassed by this bookworm, Li Muzhan. He simply couldn't swallow this humiliation!

He eyed Li Muzhan sideways. "I heard Father taught you a couple of move sets?"

Li Muzhan nodded. "Two sets of basic strikes. I've mastered those."

"Although Father's move sets must be exquisite, without internal energy and experience, learning them is pointless effort!" Hu Xiaofeng snorted.

Li Muzhan smiled slyly. "It’s good to be prepared. Even if I can’t fight a martial arts master, it should be useful against petty thugs, right?"

"Naturally. It’s more than enough for dealing with common ruffians," Hu Xiaofeng replied irritably.

He truly couldn't stand the sight of Li Muzhan’s smiling face, which suggested nothing could move him—as if he could withstand the sky falling—it was infuriating!

"Hmph!" He huffed, turned, and walked away, ignoring Li Muzhan.

Li Muzhan shook his head and chuckled. Such a spoiled young master, utterly willful; when he decided to ignore someone, he did so completely, disregarding all courtesy and respect, expecting the whole world to revolve around him.

In Fengming City, Li Muzhan stood before an armory, appraising the imposing shop. The two squatting stone lions seemed vividly alive and fiercely imposing.

Beside them hung a tall, black plaque bearing two large golden characters: "Fei Yun."

The shop was grand and luxurious but strangely devoid of customers. Li Muzhan stood there for quite a while without seeing anyone enter or leave; the entrance was desolate.

He stepped inside, and immediately a distinctive aroma washed over him—a scent Li Muzhan identified by twitching his nose as the oil used for preserving weapons.

Next were racks lined with various armaments, each bearing a marked price tag beneath it.

Li Muzhan had heard from Old Xu that armories were not uncommon and permitted by the court, but weapons were expensive; ordinary families could not afford them.

The moment he stepped in, an old man lounging in a chair slowly rose. "Guest, what weapon do you wish to purchase?"

Li Muzhan glanced at the old man—thin and withered, his face a roadmap of wrinkles. Though he moved languidly, a palpable killing intent radiated from him; this man had clearly taken many lives.

"Bows and arrows," Li Muzhan requested.

The old man lazily pointed to the left. "Over there."

Li Muzhan approached the weapon rack. Three bows were displayed, all of similar size but differing in color: one white, one yellow, and one black. None had strings attached.

Li Muzhan stepped forward and bent each one slightly. The white bow required the least strength, the black the most. Seeing Li Muzhan easily draw the black bow, the old man's eyes brightened, and he nodded. "Young man has considerable strength!"

This black bow was the stiffest, made with an iron core. When loosed, its power, though slightly less than military crossbows, was comparable; very few people bought it.

"Is there anything harder?" Li Muzhan smiled.

The old man pondered for a moment. "There is one more, one that hasn't sold. Wait here!"

He turned and walked toward the back, lifting a curtain to enter a rear room, seemingly unconcerned that Li Muzhan might steal a weapon and leave. Li Muzhan shook his head; this was a strange fellow.

The old man soon returned, lifting the curtain, holding a bow as black as ink, utterly lusterless. It was already strung with a dark cord. He handed it to Li Muzhan. "Try this one!"

Li Muzhan took it and pulled lightly; it immediately formed a perfect moon shape.

"Good! Good!" The old man beamed, chuckling. "Truly divine strength! ... Excellent, excellent, this bow has finally found its master!"

"How much?" Li Muzhan drew it a few more times. When he released the string, it snapped back with a muffled bang like distant thunder.

The old man studied Li Muzhan's fingers. This bow was too stiff; pulling the string directly should tear the skin, yet Li Muzhan seemed unfazed.

Li Muzhan smiled. "I've practiced Iron Body training for several years."

The old man suddenly understood. "No wonder, no wonder. But with Iron Body skills, can you shoot an arrow accurately?"

Li Muzhan smiled. "It's adequate. It's good enough for frightening people."

Seeing that Li Muzhan didn't wish to elaborate, the old man held out his hand. "One hundred taels of silver."

Li Muzhan didn't hesitate, pulling out a hundred-tael silver note from his inner pocket and handing it over.

Li Muzhan, carrying four quivers of arrows and the black iron bow, strode out of the armory and quickly returned to the inn. He reached the small courtyard where the others were gathered in the pavilion, talking.

Lanterns had been lit, casting two rows of light onto the pavilion, illuminating it brightly as if it were daytime. The group sat in the pavilion, chatting idly, exuding a peaceful atmosphere.

Seeing Li Muzhan return, Xiao He rushed over. "Young Master, did you buy the bow?"

Li Muzhan nodded. Hu Xiaofeng, who had been standing near Cao Miao-, looked up and sneered, "What use is a bow? It can't hit a martial arts master!"

Li Muzhan smiled. "I seem to have a knack for archery."

Hu Xiaofeng retorted, "That's good then. Why not give us a demonstration?"

Xiao He shot him a glare. "Young Master, are you tired? Do you want to rest a bit?"

Li Muzhan smiled. "Certainly. This bow is excellent; let's test its accuracy!"

Seeing Li Muzhan agree, Xiao He knew he had a chance to prove himself. She carried tea over and smiled sweetly. "Young Master, please take a sip to moisten your throat first."

Li Muzhan took the teacup and sipped lightly. "Teacher, I beg your indulgence!"

"Give it a try," Cao Ya said sternly from his seat in the pavilion.

Li Muzhan smiled. "Xiao He, place that cucumber on the tree branch."

"Yes, sir!" Xiao He agreed, walking to the stone table by the pavilion. She reached out, picked up a cucumber—similar to the sweet melons of later generations—and placed it securely on a peach branch near the wall.

After setting it firmly in place, Li Muzhan drew an arrow, nocked it, pulled the string taut, and released. With a swish, the arrow was buried deep in the cucumber.