Chapter Four: The Spirit-Summoning Banner

Upon hearing this, my sister-in-law chuckled lightly.

"You’ve got the right emotion! Good, I’ll start teaching you—pay close attention!"

"If you show no progress after a year, you might as well go work as a laborer at the warehouse—that’s got its own prospects!"

Though my body ached, my heart was glad. I hid it well, wiped the blood from my face, sniffled a few times, and pointed at the money on the table.

“Another day, I’ll take you to the hospital to check your leg again.”

She lifted her hair playfully and replied with a teasing expression, “Sitting like this isn’t bad either; someone’s always attending to me.”

I said, “If you remarry, no one will want you.”

She burst into laughter, the curves of her smile captivating, and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh? Planning to kick me out of the family, huh? I’m not so easy to drive away from the Meng household.”

I was too tired to argue further and simply replied, “Suit yourself.”

From that day on, I entered a grueling training regime.

Dragon vein pinpointing, tomb architecture, antique appraisal, underworld customs, self-defense techniques...

Other knowledge could be crammed, but self-defense required a foundation laid from youth. My bones had already set; I couldn’t learn complex moves. So she taught me a quick mastery skill—the very technique she used against Wu Er.

Five Hundred Coins.

This was a pressure point technique, said to be created by the Wudang master Yu Keliang of the Eight Methods of Character Fist. When learning, one first paid five hundred copper coins to learn the "death" points, then another five hundred to learn the "life" points, hence the name.

I was desperate to improve.

Seasons passed, days blurred; I slept barely three or four hours a night, devouring, digesting, and assimilating knowledge with ravenous hunger.

Fortunately, most trades in this world were makeshift affairs—not so refined or advanced.

As long as you were ruthless, willing to fight, and dared to bet on yourself, a year was enough to be reborn.

Perhaps I was born for this path. Coupled with the years I spent studying the Feng Shui books my brother left behind back home, my progress astonished even the haughty Liao Xiaoqin more than once. In her own words:

“I planned to give you a meal, but you’re aiming to swallow the sky!”

“Exceptional talent! I’ll teach you for another year!”

Another year passed, the twelfth lunar month arrived.

In Chang City, snowflakes fell heavily.

My sister-in-law, admiring the beautiful wintersweet blossoms in the courtyard, pushed her wheelchair over to pick some—but she fell.

Previously, though her legs couldn’t bear much force, she could move herself slowly and manage daily life.

This time, the fall was severe. Not only were her legs immobilized, but her wrist was sprained as well.

Lying in the snow, she bit her lip hard, elbows hammering her legs fiercely, tears streaming down her eyes in quiet sorrow.

For the first time, I realized—

The Iron Fan Princess, after all, was a woman who could cry.

I prepared to carry her to the hospital.

She refused.

“Useless, just messing around!”

Over the past two years, I had taken her to countless orthopedists—no one could help.

So I carried her back to the living room and turned to find someone to care for her.

But she stopped me, wiping tears from her cheek, and pointed at her eyes.

“What did you see just now?”

I glanced outside at the swirling snowflakes.

“The snow was so heavy, it ruined your makeup.”

She smiled, satisfied with my answer, regaining her defiant stance. Glancing at the dressing mirror, her brows furrowed slightly as she instructed, “My hair’s a mess—comb it for me first.”

She loved beauty deeply, even confined to a wheelchair all day, she made herself look exquisite.

Now, with both legs and wrist injured, her priority was her disheveled hair.

I pushed her to the mirror and gently ran a comb through her hair.

It was a rare moment in two years where we shared a peaceful scene without bickering.

But after just a few seconds, I stopped, my face flushing crimson.

Standing behind her, my eyes had accidentally fallen on the slight opening of her collar, revealing a mesmerizing curve like a snow-capped mountain range, and a delicate, intoxicating fragrance that enveloped the air, entrancing me utterly.

She caught my dazed expression reflected in the mirror, teasingly asked, “What did you see this time?”

I hurriedly replied, “Dandruff.”

Suddenly—

A searing pain tore through my groin. I cried out miserably, curling on the floor.

She had jabbed me with her elbow!

I was furious.

“Are you crazy?! I just happened to look!”

She turned around with a cool demeanor, raised an eyebrow, and gave me the middle finger.

“Here’s another lesson: all disasters come from carelessness!”

I was speechless.

Minutes later, the pain showed no sign of easing, so I went to the bathroom to urinate—only to find it burning fiercely, blood staining my urine.

I nearly lost my mind, storming out.

“Liao Xiaoqin, you—”

She saw me emerge and asked coldly, “Mission failed?”

I wanted to snap back, but her words nearly choked me. After a long pause, I just said,

“You’re full of crap!”

She ignored me, lit a cigarette, her face calm and hazy in the smoke, as if deep in thought.

After a moment, she said, “My leg can be healed, but we must find someone.”

I was not surprised.

Liao Xiaoqin had kept many secrets from me.

Who had betrayed her and my brother? Why did she know so much? What sect did the mysterious “Zouma Yin Yang” belong to? She never spoke a word.

One thing was certain—her identity was extraordinary.

For example, when reading books, she never turned pages with her hand, always using a small pair of tweezers.

Such innate grace could not be faked.

At one point, I thought she was a highly skilled tomb raider—but later I realized my perspective was too narrow.

“Who must we find?”

“Xu Qingguo of the Xu Pharmaceutical Group on Jiayan Road. She knows the secrets of Qimen acupuncture.I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.