Morning sunlight had only just spread across the fields surrounding Su Village when an anxious shout suddenly shattered the peaceful atmosphere.
"They're here!"
The cry echoed through the village like a warning bell.
Farmers abandoned their hoes.
Women hurriedly gathered children into their homes.
Merchants immediately shut their wooden stalls before bolting their doors from the inside.
Within only a few breaths, the lively village became eerily silent.
Everyone knew exactly who had arrived.
Three young men slowly strolled into the village road with arrogant smiles plastered across their faces.
They wore the loose uniforms of the Wind Tiger Gang.
Leading them was the youth whose hand still bore a faint scar left behind by Lou Feng's desperate bite several months earlier.
Although the wound had long healed, the humiliation remained fresh in his memory.
Looking at the deserted streets, one of the youths burst into laughter.
"Hahaha!"
"It seems our reputation has improved again."
The second youth nodded smugly.
"They're finally learning to behave."
Only the third remained thoughtful before a sinister smile slowly appeared.
"Since we're already here..."
"...why don't we visit Uncle Wang?"
The other two immediately understood.
Their eyes lit up.
"Good idea."
"I wonder whether that cripple is still alive."
"If he is..."
"...let's remind him what happens when people interfere with the Wind Tiger Gang."
The three walked leisurely toward the edge of the village before stopping outside a small wooden house.
Bang!
One of them kicked the door violently.
The entire house shook.
"Old Wang!"
"Get your crippled legs out here!"
Another slammed his fist against the wooden door.
"If you don't open it..."
"...we'll drag your wife outside instead!"
Inside the house...
The atmosphere was equally tense.
Uncle Wang sat quietly upon a wooden stool.
A heavy hunting knife rested across his knees.
Behind him stood his wife, her face completely pale.
She tightly grasped the corner of his clothes.
"Husband..."
"Don't go."
"They finally healed your legs."
"You can't risk them again."
Her voice trembled uncontrollably.
Only a month earlier, a mysterious physician had quietly visited during the night.
Without accepting even a single copper coin...
He had restored Uncle Wang's crippled legs completely.
To this day, neither of them understood who the benefactor truly was.
After suffering for so many months...
She refused to watch her husband become crippled again.
Uncle Wang slowly lowered his head.
His weathered hands tightened around the knife.
"I already failed once."
His voice was unusually calm.
"When Lou Hong died..."
"I promised him..."
"...that I'd watch over Feng'er."
His eyes gradually reddened.
"But when those bastards came..."
"...I couldn't protect him."
His grip tightened further.
"I watched them beat him."
"I watched that child run for his life."
"And I could do..."
"...nothing."
The guilt buried within his heart for months finally erupted.
He slowly stood up.
His wife hurriedly grabbed his arm.
"Husband!"
"They're from the Wind Tiger Gang!"
"There are three of them!"
"You've only just recovered!"
Uncle Wang gently removed her hand.
"If I keep retreating..."
"...they'll never stop."
He picked up the hunting knife.
Years of hunting deep within the mountains hadn't disappeared simply because his legs had once been crippled.
Some instincts...
Never faded.
Without another word, he strode toward the entrance.
Outside...
The banging suddenly stopped.
The wooden door slowly swung open.
The three youths immediately looked up.
Then...
Their expressions froze.
Uncle Wang stood calmly in the doorway.
More importantly...
He wasn't leaning on a walking stick.
He stood upright.
Both legs appeared completely normal.
The youth in front blinked repeatedly.
"...You..."
"You can walk?"
For a brief moment...
None of the three spoke.
They had personally shattered both of this old hunter's legs.
There was no possibility of recovery.
Unless...
Someone had intervened.
The silence lasted only a few breaths before the leading youth sneered.
"So what if you can walk again?"
His expression quickly returned to arrogance.
He stepped forward carelessly.
"Bring out every piece of silver you've hidden."
"We'll pretend today's visit never happened."
The second youth laughed coldly.
"Otherwise..."
"...don't blame us if your wife gets hurt."
Uncle Wang said nothing.
Instead...
He slowly raised the heavy hunting knife.
The blade reflected the morning sunlight.
For the first time...
The three youths hesitated.
Their feet unconsciously retreated half a step.
They suddenly remembered something they had almost forgotten.
Before becoming a cripple...
Uncle Wang had spent more than twenty years hunting demon beasts within the surrounding mountains.
He wasn't an ordinary farmer.
He was a hunter.
Seeing their reaction, Uncle Wang finally spoke.
His voice was low.
"If any of you..."
"...takes one more step..."
"...this knife won't stop until it tastes blood."
The three youths exchanged uncertain glances.
The confidence they had carried into the village gradually began to waver.
The leader swallowed nervously before forcing himself to sneer.
"You..."
"You dare threaten the Wind Tiger Gang?"
His voice, however...
Contained far less confidence than before.
Uncle Wang's grip around the knife tightened.
"Or else..."
The youth tried to continue his threat.
Before he could finish—
Uncle Wang calmly interrupted him.
"Or else..."
"...what?"
A cold voice interrupted him.
"...you'll die."
Everyone instinctively turned toward the source of the voice.
A man slowly walked down the village road with his hands clasped behind his back.
Unlike the three youths, his robes were white with black tiger-striped patterns embroidered across the sleeves and collar. Hanging from his waist was a bronze token engraved with the character Steward, marking his position within the Wind Tiger Gang.
Every step he took carried an invisible pressure.
The three youths immediately became excited.
"Steward!"
They hurried over before respectfully cupping their fists.
"Greetings, Steward!"
"We were just about to teach this old fellow another lesson."
The steward didn't even spare them a glance.
His eyes remained fixed upon Uncle Wang.
A faint aura naturally spread from his body.
It wasn't particularly overwhelming...
Yet to ordinary people, it felt like standing before a hungry beast.
Uncle Wang's expression immediately darkened.
His grip around the hunting knife unconsciously tightened.
A martial artist...
His years as a hunter allowed him to recognise the feeling immediately.
The difference between ordinary people and martial artists wasn't simply strength.
It was presence.
Once Internal Force circulated through the body, every movement naturally carried pressure that ordinary men found difficult to resist.
Within the Great Qian Dynasty, martial techniques had spread throughout society generations ago.
Although powerful inheritances remained firmly controlled by martial halls, noble families and sects, ordinary body tempering techniques could still be obtained through various channels.
As long as one reached the age of eleven...
Almost every family would spend several hundred wen to have their children tested for martial talent.
Those with talent would either enter martial halls...
Or...
If their character was lacking...
Join gangs such as the Wind Tiger Gang.
The steward before him had once been one of those children.
Now...
He was an Acquired Realm martial artist.
Uncle Wang silently evaluated the distance between them.
Against the three arrogant youths...
A hunting knife and years of experience were enough to intimidate them.
Against an actual martial artist...
Those same tricks meant nothing.
Even so...
He couldn't retreat.
Not this time.
His family's savings were almost exhausted.
The months spent treating his crippled legs had already consumed nearly everything they owned.
Although that mysterious physician had ultimately restored him without asking for payment...
Their previous expenses had left them with barely enough silver to survive the coming winter.
If the Wind Tiger Gang took even that...
His family wouldn't survive.
The steward slowly stopped several metres away.
His expression remained indifferent.
"So..."
"You've recovered."
Uncle Wang didn't answer.
He merely raised the hunting knife once more.
The steward looked at the blade before letting out a faint laugh.
"A knife?"
"You intend to threaten me..."
"...with that?"
Before Uncle Wang could react—
The steward vanished.
His pupils contracted.
Too fast!
A fist suddenly appeared before his abdomen.
Bang!
The impact sounded like a muffled drum.
Uncle Wang felt every bit of air violently forced from his lungs.
His body bent instinctively.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
The hunting knife slipped from numb fingers before falling onto the ground with a dull clang.
The next instant...
His entire body was sent flying.
He crashed through the wooden fence surrounding the courtyard before rolling several times across the nearby farmland.
Freshly planted crops were flattened beneath his body.
Only after sliding more than ten metres did he finally come to a stop.
He desperately tried drawing another breath.
Pain exploded throughout his abdomen.
Every attempt to inhale sent another wave of agony spreading across his chest.
The steward slowly lowered his fist.
His expression hadn't changed in the slightest.
To him...
Defeating an ordinary hunter wasn't even worth mentioning.
Uncle Wang struggled to raise himself from the ground.
Blood continued dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Looking toward the steward standing calmly before his house...
He finally understood.
Against frightened village youths...
Years of hunting experience and a sharpened knife were enough to make them hesitate.
Against a genuine martial artist...
He was nothing more than an ordinary man.