Lock

Early in the morning, the air in the servants' quarters was filled with the lingering musty smell and sweaty odor.

Xu Hao held the chipped, rough porcelain bowl and shoveled the last mouthful of thin porridge into his stomach, his tongue tracing the bottom of the bowl, not even missing a drop of rice oil.

Li Da, holding a bowl, circled around Manager Wang, asking, "Uncle Wang, what exactly are the rules for that assessment the day after tomorrow?"

"Give us a clear picture so we can have a better understanding."

Manager Wang tapped his pipe with his foot, filled it with cheap tobacco he'd pulled from his pocket, and said slowly, "Where can I really put my skills to use in this shop?"

He lit his pipe by the fire in the stove, took a puff of smoke, and said, "The day after tomorrow morning, get ready and head to the master's mansion. Someone will lead the way."

Xu Hao listened silently, gulped down the porridge in a few mouthfuls, wiped his mouth, and went out.

This might make me full, but when it comes to practicing boxing, the little bit of food in my stomach won't last more than half an hour.

After leaving the shop, he didn't rush to the Martial Temple, but instead turned to the breakfast stall by the ferry.

Brother Sun was shirtless, making pancakes by the stove. The aroma of flour mixed with the smell of charred bread wafted from the blazing fire, it was so tempting.

Xu Hao touched his pocket, his fingertips tracing the remaining nine copper coins for a long time before finally steeling himself to count out four.

"Brother Sun, eight assorted bean flour pancakes, please. Make sure they're decent, don't give me the burnt ones."

Brother Sun took the copper coin and chuckled, "Alright, take it carefully, don't burn yourself since it's fresh out of the pot."

Xu Hao took the warm pancake, carefully wrapped it in a cloth, and put it in his pocket.

This is a treat for myself today, and also fuel for my martial arts practice; I can't skimp on it.

The flatbread is made by grinding beans, mixing them with other grains, letting them rise, and then baking it.

Although it has no oil or salt, its only advantage is that it keeps you full. When soaked in water, it can expand to twice its original size.

Most of the people who do heavy manual labor here buy this; it's plentiful and filling.

Just as he put the flatbread away, the idle chatter of two porters at the next stall tripped him up as he was about to lift his foot.

"Have you heard? Things are in chaos in Ningzhou."

"Haven't they been suffering from drought for two years already? How much more chaos can they cause?"

"This time it's different." The man suddenly stopped and looked around. "They say a 'Pingtian Sect' has emerged, chanting something like 'Heaven is dead, the year is Jiazi,' and they've gathered fifty or sixty thousand followers! They even stormed the local county government office."

"Holy crap! This is rebellion! It's punishable by death!"

"Beheading? People are starving to death, why would they be afraid of beheading? I heard they've even gnawed all the tree bark off over there..."

Xu Hao paused slightly, his nerves on edge tightening even more.

Although Ningzhou is far from Chenzhou, the flames of this chaotic world could spread here at any time.

Upon arriving at the Martial Temple, before even entering, a faint, intermittent sobbing sound rang out, like that of an injured kitten.

"Old man... old man, wake up..."

"Waaah... Manager Li promised to leave us leftovers yesterday, get up..."

Xu Hao frowned and quickly stepped across the threshold.

On a pile of hay in the corner of the main hall, the boy was kneeling beside the old beggar, crying with snot and tears streaming down his face, helplessly pushing the old beggar's shoulder.

The old beggar lay on his back, his wrinkled face as pale as paper, his lips cracked and chapped, his breathing faint, as if he were about to die at any moment.

"What's wrong?" Xu Hao walked over and reached out to check the old beggar's breath.

He was barely breathing, but his body didn't feel hot; instead, it felt a little cold.

When the little beggar saw it was Xu Hao, he clung to his leg like a drowning man grasping at a straw: "Brother! Brother, please save the old man! He was fine last night, but I can't wake him up this morning no matter what I do!"

Xu Hao glanced at the old beggar's sunken belly and understood what was going on.

This isn't an illness, it's just hunger, plus his age, probably low blood sugar, and his body couldn't take it anymore.

To save or not to save?

These days, it's hard enough to just survive; meddling in other people's business often means adding more mouths to feed.

Xu Hao touched the hard, unyielding pancake in his arms.

"Ugh."

He sighed inwardly. If it were anyone else, it wouldn't matter, but these two, the old man and the young man, had done their job guarding the temple for him these past few days, preventing any unauthorized people from coming in and urinating or defecating.

"Stop shaking him, or he'll really die." Xu Hao pried open the little beggar's hand, took out a pancake from his pocket, broke off a piece, crushed it, threw it into his water bottle, and shook it until it turned into a pot of mush.

He helped the old beggar up, pried open his withered mouth, and slowly poured the gruel down his throat.

"Cough cough...cough..."

After downing half a pot of porridge, the old beggar let out a hoarse cough, his chest heaved violently a few times, and finally, his eyelids trembled as he opened a crack.

His cloudy old eyes darted around before finally settling on Xu Hao's face. He glanced at the kettle in Xu Hao's hand, then forced a bitter smile. "Too many people queuing at the King of Hell's... and this old beggar was sent back again?"

"I don't know if the King of Hell will accept this, but you have to remember to pay for these pancakes."

Xu Hao stuffed the remaining half of the pancake into the little beggar's eyes, which were looking at him expectantly, and said, "You should eat some too, lest you lie down later."

The little beggar gratefully accepted the pancake, hastily wiped the tears and snot from his face, and wolfed it down.

After a while, the old beggar regained some color in his face. He leaned against the haystack, watching Xu Hao wiping the offering table, a strange glint flashing in his cloudy eyes.

"Young man, I heard from the people at the docks that your shop is going to hold a martial arts test in a couple of days?"

Xu Hao's hands didn't stop moving: "Yes, the boss wants to pick someone who can protect the shop. If you don't want to be kicked out, you have to fight for it."

"Protecting the shop? Protecting the courtyard..." the old beggar muttered to himself.

"With your small frame, you still want to try? I think you're just trying to get yourself killed."

Xu Hao turned around, not angry, but instead asked seriously, "Does the old man know martial arts?"

"You know nothing." The old beggar slowly turned over, found a comfortable position to curl up in, and said, "When I was young, I learned some farming skills from someone for a few days, but later... well, let's not talk about it."

He paused, then carefully examined Xu Hao again.

He seems to have gotten a bit more muscular; this is the result of Xu Hao's intense training yesterday.

"Young man, I notice your steps aren't as unsteady as usual today, but your face is pale. Are you secretly practicing some kind of kung fu?"

Xu Hao was startled, but remained outwardly calm: "Just practicing recklessly, trying to make a living."

"Practicing blindly? Hmph, martial arts training is about cultivating qi and blood." The old beggar pointed to the oil lamp in the temple that had long since dried up.

"The essence, energy, and spirit in a person's body are like lamp oil."

The sons of wealthy families eat meat at every meal, which is like adding oil to a lamp, making it burn brightly no matter how long you burn it.

"For poor folks like us, with no money in our pockets, forcing ourselves to practice martial arts is like burning a candle in vain."

"Once the wick burns out, the person is ruined. With your meager energy and blood, if you continue practicing like this, you'll cough up blood and die within three months if a fly swatted you."

Xu Hao fell silent.

He knew the old beggar was right.

Yesterday, thanks to the low-level blood and qi dispersing effect of the "blessed land", my body recovered quickly, but the bone-chilling hunger only intensified, and I felt that no amount of dry food could satisfy my hunger.

"What should we do then?" Xu Hao asked.

"What to do?" The old beggar chuckled, revealing a set of broken, yellow teeth. "Either find a rich woman to support you, or you'll have to learn how to 'lock' things up."

"Lock?"

"Yes, lock in the qi and blood, so it doesn't get lost in vain." The old beggar stretched out his withered fingers and pressed several acupoints on his body.

"After you finish practicing, don't rush to lie down. You need to gather the heat that has spread throughout your limbs and body..."

His voice wasn't loud, but he spoke in great detail, from the frequency of breathing to the posture for finishing the exercise. Although it wasn't some profound technique, it was all the life-saving experience of a low-level martial artist.

Xu Hao was so engrossed in listening that he didn't even notice the rag in his hand had fallen.

Only after the old beggar finished speaking and began tidying up the pile of dry grass beneath him did Xu Hao come to his senses and solemnly bow.

"Thank you for your guidance, sir."

"Thanks my foot, I'll pay you back for the pancake." The old beggar waved his hand, slowly stood up, and pulled the little beggar outside.

"Stone, hurry up, Manager Li's leftovers are waiting for us."

Xu Hao picked up the rag, a slight smile playing on his lips.

This breakfast, even if it costs four taels of silver, is worth it.