Chapter 13: The Future

“Sanlang...”

Though the cracked corners of his mouth ached from the cold, though his body shivered, and though he was tempted to curse, Li Po still forced a smile, hoping to strike up some kind of acquaintance.

But the strong boy, brimming with a fierce sense of class pride, glared and snapped, “Sanlang? You’re not worthy to call me that, you scoundrel!”

Clearly a man of action rather than thought, the boy’s expression suddenly darkened, and before Li Po could react, a fist swung fiercely toward his face.

Having spent some time in Mayi, Li Po had come to understand that refined manners were scarce here. Most people shared the same rough nature, wild and untameable.

The local customs were harsh and rugged, and this boy’s temper flipped faster than turning a page.

Yet Li Po was no ordinary man; his reflexes were lightning quick, almost instinctive.

Before the boy’s fist could land, Li Po’s own face smarted, and a sudden force sent his head spinning backward. Staggering two or three steps, he shook his head and suddenly realized he had been struck.

Li Po paused, withdrawing his fist and glancing at it, realizing that the timing, location, and the people involved made fighting altogether inappropriate.

But he had no time to dwell on this—the young lad before him was already seething with rage.

This sturdy, simple-looking boy, who seemed slow-witted, transformed when angered. A vein bulged on his forehead, his eyes widened and bloodshot, as if a different person had taken over.

His vicious, savage demeanor was like that of a demon beast.

With a roar, he lunged at Li Po with full force.

Li Po only had time to say, “Let’s talk this out...” before he was forced to push the stunned Li Chun aside and meet the charge head-on.

Grabbing an arm, twisting the body, bending the waist, lifting the hips, applying force...

The movements flowed smoothly, practiced as if drinking water or eating rice.

Then came a loud thud.

The boy was swung through the air, then slammed heavily onto the ground.

The impact was tremendous.

Even someone as strong as Luo San groaned in pain and rolled his eyes.

This incident proved that unarmed combat techniques centuries later were no empty boast.

Li Po shook his hand, an automatic reaction; Luo San was simply unlucky. People like Li Po instinctively struck harder when faced with fiercer opponents—it was not a matter of choice.

Watching Luo San lying on the ground, gasping for breath, Li Po blinked and twitched the corner of his mouth. Though inwardly amused, he put on a look of genuine fear and crouched down.

Helping the boy up, he muttered, “I told you, there’s no need to fight. Look how you fell just now.”

Luo San gritted his teeth. Since the death of his violent father, no one had ever made him suffer such pain.

He staggered to his feet, grabbing Li Po’s collar, ready to continue the fight.

But a sudden pain in his throat choked all his breath. He bent over, gasping.

A heavy iron grip closed around his neck, flushing his face red and making it impossible to breathe.

A textbook “guillotine choke.”

Repeated strikes had finally convinced him that he was facing a remarkable fighter—just like the Taoist who had once come to their village to teach him martial arts.

“Enough... enough... let’s talk, no more fighting...”

As the iron grip loosened, Luo San collapsed onto the ground. The biting wind he had once hated now seemed almost gentle as it entered his mouth.

He coughed violently, clutching his throat.

Li Po pulled the beaming Li Chun onto his back, thinking to himself that staying here was no longer an option.

The best course was to knock out this reckless boy and leave the city immediately rather than be trapped like a fish in a barrel.

“Brother... what’s your name? Your fighting skills... truly impressive...”

A surprising turn of events.

Li Po soon learned that this unruly boy was Luo Shixin, a native of Shandong. Though they had never met before, the name was oddly familiar—an ominous sign that this boy would one day be one of the heroes during the end of the Sui dynasty.

Li Po’s lack of historical knowledge was his fatal flaw, but he never cared much about it. Even now, whether he knew Luo San or not, he still had to live in a straw hut—it made little difference.

At least this hut was on the southern edge of town, colder than most but less foul-smelling.

According to Luo San, the previous owner of the hut had been buried by him just a few days ago.

Li Po was speechless.

Though newly acquainted, Luo San was open and straightforward. He warned Li Po not to wander into the marketplace and promised that once his duty rotation was over, he would seek out a brother in the county office to help Li Po find work.

This showed Luo San’s simple nature—he was earnest in helping those he liked but not very thorough in planning.

After spending some time together, Luo San confided that he and his brothers had been involved in smuggling salt and were wanted by the Shandong authorities, forcing them to flee.

Li Po felt ashamed. Here was a man so open-hearted, and yet he himself was secretive and far from heroic.

Luo San left, promising to return with money to buy wine and meat after a few days.

This was the first person Li Po had befriended since arriving in Mayi.

Li Po gave little thought to it, staring at the drafty straw hut and lamenting the bleak future ahead.

He didn’t take Luo San’s talk of the county office seriously—if that boy had such connections, he wouldn’t still be guarding the city gate.

For now, the pressing issue was how to survive the damned winter.

Counting on his fingers, Li Po planned first to gather firewood and fuel, then repair the hut; otherwise, he would surely freeze to death.

Food was less urgent—he still had some dried meat, and Luo San said they distributed gruel twice daily here. It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy hunger, but it was enough to keep from starving.

If he could make it to spring, he would be registered in the Mayi household system, though only at the lowest level, commonly called “commoner.” He wouldn’t receive land, couldn’t start a business—he’d be merely a reserve soldier and a supplement to the corvée labor, only a step above a bonded servant.

In other words, a role destined for death, with no official citizenship. To Li Po, whether or not he had this registration made little difference.