Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

”Master suspects I did it?”

Chen Cheng didn’t shy away, returning the question directly.

Shen Mi stared into his eyes. After a moment, she shook her head and smiled.

”You’ve only just refined your Blood Qi, so your foundation isn’t stable yet... Besides, I’ve always been one to believe what I see. Without irrefutable proof, I won’t wrongly accuse anyone.”

She paused, leaning forward slightly. The edge of the desk pressed against her massive chest, creating a startling curve.

”However, there are two people you should watch out for. One is our caravan’s Big Pot Head, Zhao Hai. The other is the Southern Three Guards’ Patrol Captain, Zhao Chuan...”

”Thank you for the warning, Master.”

Chen Cheng gave a slight nod, two figures immediately surfacing in his mind.

Big Pot Head Zhao Hai... he knew him, of course.

He was the brains and the guiding star of the entire caravan, an old veteran who had struggled and clawed his way up in the trading company for decades.

The trade routes, the resting stops, the relationships with outside factions, placating the Green Forest bandits along the way, handling emergencies... it all fell on his shoulders.

Back when he was a handyman, Chen Cheng had faintly sensed that even Shen Mi, the Master, sometimes had to rely on Elder Wen’s influence just to keep Zhao Hai in check.

’No wonder Shen Mi could only choose to smooth things over when Lai Tou committed murder and robbery.’

As for Zhao Chuan, Chen Cheng was almost certain he was the black-robed constable he had run into in Kuhuai Village that day.

To reach the position of Patrol Captain in the Patrol Guard Bureau, his skills couldn’t be weak. He had to be a Martial Artist who had condensed at least two incense sticks’ worth of Blood Qi.

Right now, Zhao Hai was away on a trade run and wouldn’t be back for another month or so.

And as for that Zhao Chuan... though his true depth was unknown, this thorn had been clearly and firmly planted.

Chen Cheng’s expression remained impassive, but inside, his nerves had quietly tensed.

”Alright, have Zhang Ping take you to the accounts office to collect this month’s Salary Silver... You’re familiar with the warehouse. You can decide when to be on duty; it doesn’t matter if it’s morning or evening, as long as you put in a total of two hours each day.”

Shen Mi gave one last smile, her gaze already returning to the stack of ledgers on her desk.

She gently pressed a hand to her temple, and in an instant, a weary, troubled frown clouded her gentle features.

Chen Cheng didn’t disturb her further and silently withdrew from the study.

There was another benefit to being a Tributor: you got paid before you did the work.

Zhang Ping led Chen Cheng to the neighboring accounts office.

The room was filled with the smell of old paper and ink sticks.

The old accountant, Zhang Gu, who had a salt-and-pepper beard, was leaning back in a Grandmaster’s Chair with his eyes narrowed, leisurely sipping tea. Two young apprentices attended to him, one massaging his shoulders and the other kneading his legs.

Hearing the commotion, Zhang Gu barely lifted his eyelids. But when Zhang Ping explained their purpose, his expression suddenly turned serious. He waved the two apprentices away and stood up, his face wreathed in smiles.

”Cheng! It really is you! Good kid! Incredible! Absolutely incredible! You’ve really made something of yourself now!”

”You’re too kind, Mr. Zhang.”

Chen Cheng replied calmly, but a flicker of imperceptible coldness passed through his eyes.

Chen Cheng knew this Zhang Gu. He was arrogant and had a foul temper. Every time it was payday, he loved to find new ways to torment and humiliate the handymen for his own amusement.

Even Zhang Ping, who was always the strictest with the handymen, had a far better reputation among them than Zhang Gu.

Zhang Gu was an expert at reading people. Seeing Chen Cheng’s placid reaction, he quickly abandoned his attempt to flatter and win him over.

He sat back down, opened a yellowed register, and scribbled a few entries. Then he took out a key and opened the massive ebony chest behind him.

He took out five taels of broken silver, tossed them onto the desk, gave them a casual shove toward Chen Cheng, and leaned back in his chair without another word.

Zhang Ping stared coldly at the broken silver, his throat bobbing involuntarily.

He had been a steward for the handymen at the trading company for many years, but his monthly income was merely one tael of broken silver.

Yet Chen Cheng had only just emerged, and his Monthly Allowance was a full five times his own—two taels more than even the full-time guard Martial Artists at the trading company.

However, the moment that thought surfaced, Zhang Ping cursed himself inwardly.

’Can you even compare them?’

’Those full-time guards mostly have poor Root Bone, or they suffered hidden injuries in their youth, making it nearly impossible for them to advance further in their Martial Arts.’

’But who is Chen Cheng?’

’A newly promoted Middle Courtyard Disciple of Dragon Mountain Hall! His future is boundless!’

’Those extra two taels of silver from Master Shen Mi aren’t a salary, are they? They’re clearly a bet on his future!’

Thinking this way, Zhang Ping felt much better.

Then he thought about the handymen under him, who worked themselves to death every month, sweating buckets, only to earn a meager Two Hundred Wen—just one-fifth of his own pay. That made him feel even better.

’This world is just one layer pressing down on another. When you feel inadequate compared to those above, you can always look down and find some comfort.’

Chen Cheng tucked the silver into his robes. The weight against his chest gave him a rare sense of security.

As for Zhang Gu, Chen Cheng had no desire to feign friendship, so he offered a simple farewell and left.

He walked out of the main courtyard and followed a narrow alley cluttered with junk, which led him to the Yongsheng Trading Company’s warehouses.

A long row of high-ridged, gray-tiled storehouses stood connected. The walls were thick, the window openings were high and small, and the heavy wooden doors were wrapped in Iron Skin and secured with heavy locks.

The air was filled with a mixed scent of tea leaves, leather, medicinal herbs, and aged wood.

Right next to the warehouses, facing the street, a single room had been partitioned off.

Zhang Ping unlocked the door to the room and handed the key to Chen Cheng with both hands.

”Lord Cheng, this room is yours from now on... Elder Wen used to rest and drink tea here. I have it cleaned regularly, so it’s quite spotless.”

Chen Cheng took the key and stepped inside.

The room was more spacious and brighter than he had expected. The table and chairs were made of solid hardwood, their edges worn smooth as jade from long use, exuding a faint, woody fragrance.

There was a tea caddy on the table, and in the corner stood a brazier for heating and an iron kettle for boiling water. With winter fast approaching, being able to drink a mouthful of hot tea was a comfort Chen Cheng would never have dared to hope for before.

”Not bad.”

Chen Cheng nodded in satisfaction. ”You can go about your business. I’ll stay on duty until noon today before heading back to the Martial Arts Hall.”

Zhang Ping gave a respectful bow, took two steps back, and only then turned to leave.

In front of the room was a fairly wide street that usually didn’t have many pedestrians.

So, Chen Cheng simply began to practice his Hidden Dragon Fist by the doorway.

Occasionally, a porter carrying a shoulder pole, a woman with a vegetable basket, or some well-dressed stewards and shopkeepers would hurry past. They couldn’t help but steal glances at him, and without exception, their faces would fill with awe and reverence upon spotting his waist token and Training Attire.

Before noon, news that the Yongsheng Store had hired a new Tributor from Dragon Mountain Hall had already spread throughout the neighborhood.

Those with vested interests would naturally weigh the implications, while the common folk knew even more clearly that there was one more ”Martial Artist Lord” in the area whom they had to carefully avoid and absolutely must not offend.

...

At noon, Chen Cheng rushed and just barely made it to the Martial Arts Hall’s dining hall in time for the meal.

Although he had just received five taels in Salary Silver, he had too many money-sucking holes to fill. Every meal he could save was a meal saved.

The food was served, but before he could take more than a few bites, a familiar voice suddenly called out from a distance.

It was Qian Baolu, yelling furiously at a tall, skinny disciple with dark skin.

”Xiao Yi! I’ll fuck your ancestors!”