The First Teacher

In the early morning hours of Xiaoyun County, as the only art store in the county, it was naturally not difficult to find.

The Yellow Clothed Old Man led a White Clothed Woman wearing white clothes through the messy streets and arrived at the front of the art store. However, looking at the closed doors, the Yellow Clothed Old Man raised his head to glance at the sky and slightly frowned.

The Yellow Clothed Old Man said in puzzlement: "That's not right. Based on the time, we agreed yesterday that the door would be left open for us around this hour."

The White Clothed Woman following the old man was obviously much more sensitive. She said worriedly: "Mr. Huang, could something have happened? Could it be that Black Eagle..."

The Yellow Clothed Old Man waved his hand and said: "You don't need to worry about this. Like your husband, although Xiao San has joined the underworld, they were both disciples of famous orthodox sects back in the day. Also, I've known him since he was little, his character can definitely be trusted."

After the Yellow Clothed Old Man finished speaking, he looked around vigilantly and said to the woman behind him: "You move back some, let me go see if anyone is inside."

As he spoke, the Yellow Clothed Old Man walked to the front of the door. But he did not knock right away. First, he stabbed the mud below with the tips of his shoes, channeling internal energy into his legs.

Then the old man waved his palm, using only internal energy to hit the door from a distance, creating a sound exactly the same as if someone was leaning on the door and knocking.

Behind him, the White Clothed Woman watched all this, thinking to herself that he was indeed a senior of the jianghu, it was just a pity that her own husband did not have the same prudence, which led to him being plotted against in the end.

Thinking of this, a sad look appeared on the White Clothed Woman's face.

The sound of the old man knocking seemed casual, but if listening carefully, one could sense some sort of order and rhythm within it.

After a while, the door of the art shop slowly opened.

The one opening the door was Wang Xiaoer.

But the cautious old man stopped the woman who wanted to rush forward...

Until a weak voice came from inside the room: "Uncle Huang, it's fine, come on in."

...

...

When the Yellow Clothed Old Man walked in, the first thing he noticed was Zhang San with half his body wrapped in bandages, his complexion pale.

In just one day, how could such a big change happen?

The Yellow Clothed Old Man hurried forward and asked: "Xiao San, what's going on here? Did you provoke some enemy?"

Zhang San unconsciously glanced at Wang Xiaoer before giving a wry smile. "What enemy could I have provoked?"

If I had any enemies, the ones dying are usually on the other side. Zhang San thought to himself.

On the other hand, the White Clothed Woman angrily questioned Wang Xiaoer, scolding: "Xiao Er, was it you causing trouble again?"

Hearing this, Zhang San was deeply moved.

A mother really knows her son best!

Wang Xiaoer tugged at his ears with both hands, slowly kneeling down, and said: "Mother, I know I was wrong, please don't hit me. Master has been very magnanimous and has already forgiven me."

When did I forgive you!

Zhang San furiously yelled in his heart, but seeing the parents of his student/financial backer at his door, he could not reveal a petty side.

...

...

Anger really isn't worth much money.

Because it's not worth much money, one person's anger can usually be dispelled with money.

If you fail to dispel it, it can only prove your money is not enough.

When the White Clothed Woman took out eight hundred taels, Zhang San immediately forgot about yesterday's matters.

And when the White Clothed Woman, in order to express her apology, was willing to increase Wang Xiaoer's monthly allowance to one hundred fifty taels to improve the food for master and disciple,

Zhang San could no longer hold back his smile hearing those words.

But when the White Clothed Woman saw Zhang San's 'money blinding' appearance, she instead slightly knit her brows.

Seeing this, Zhang San silently stood up.

Zhang San took out his small knife, then handed it to the White Clothed Woman.

The White Clothed Woman asked in puzzlement: "What is the meaning of this?"

Zhang San rolled up his robes and said: "Come, Lady Wang, stab me!"

The White Clothed Woman said: "Ah?"

Zhang San confidently smiled and said: "Don't worry, our orthodox sect's Iron Cloth Shirt is really amazing!"

The White Clothed Woman held the knife and looked at the bandages around Zhang San's waist. She said: "This is..."

Zhang San said: "Don't misunderstand, my lady. I just wanted to show you the prowess of our school's martial arts, to reassure you that I can teach your son well! My lady, please set your heart at ease, but if you really can't feel assured, stab me a few more times to test out my martial arts, that will also be fine."

Zhang San's meaning was very clear. This business deal, no, this disciple has been decided!

To demonstrate his mid-stage Iron Cloth Shirt on the spot was also no problem.

The White Clothed Woman unconsciously looked to the Yellow Clothed Old Man, the meaning in her eyes was also very clear.

Is this the teacher you introduced me to? The only living inheritor of the famous orthodox sects? A master of the Iron Cloth Shirt and White Crane Flying martial arts? How does he look like a money worshipper?

The Yellow Clothed Old Man covered his face with one hand and turned around. His meaning was very clear too.

I don't know this person!

Wang Xiaoer rushed to his mother's side. Seeing that she still wasn't stabbing down after so long, the longing in his eyes was evident.

Wang Xiaoer's meaning was also very clear.

Mom, if you don't stab him then let me do it!

I wonder if stabbing in daylight feels different.

...

...

Later on, on the dark streets, the old Yellow Clothed Man led the White Clothed Woman to slowly depart. There was a horse carriage waiting outside the county for the White Clothed Woman.

Yet she still couldn't completely stop worrying about her own child, especially as she thought back to Zhang San's performance today.

The White Clothed Woman said with some worry: "Mr. Huang, please forgive my blunt words, but isn't that young man called Zhang San a bit..."

The Yellow Clothed Old Man chuckled twice and said: "I know what you're worried about, but I can still assure you of his good character. With Xiao Er there, he would absolutely not become some great villain, nor shame Grey Lion."

The woman said: "I can only hope as such."

The Yellow Clothed Old Man went on to say: "Were you thinking that he took on a disciple for money?"

The woman slightly frowned her brows before finally nodding.

"So which is more important, money or life?"

"What does Senior mean?"

The Yellow Clothed Old Man said: "Let me tell you the truth. After bringing Xiao Er away, I disclosed his background in full. That means Xiao San at heart knows Grey Lion was killed by Song Tianxing. Once he sheltered Xiao Er, although the chances are very low, no one can say for sure that Song Tianxing won't find them."

The woman was also a wise person. She nodded, seemingly understanding something.

The Yellow Clothed Old Man said: "Money and life, of course life is more important. But Xiao San still took in Xiao Er. The reason is actually very simple. Aside from Xiao San indeed being greedy for money, it was also because of the date - July 3rd of the lunar calendar, which was yesterday."

"July 3rd?" The woman was puzzled.

The Yellow Clothed Old Man said: "In all these years, there are only two dates Xiao San remembers every year. One is his master's death memorial day, the other is July 3rd, because he has to remind himself that on July 3rd when he was only eight years old, he lost family and became an orphan. It was also on that day when Xiao San, who was being pursued to be killed, met his master."

The woman understood: "Also July 3rd, also eight years old, also losing family, also..."

"Also formally taking in a disciple," said the Yellow Clothed Old Man.