Chapter 014: Iron Shirt

A faint, feeble voice drifted out, and only after a while, with a creak, did the courtyard gate finally open in response.

The one who opened the door was an old man with hair as white as frost, skin wrinkled like bark, short of stature, emaciated, and hunched over, shuffling along as if a mere gust of wind might blow him away.

He pulled the gate open just wide enough to slip through sideways, then was seized by a fit of coughing.

"Cough… cough… Who are you looking for, young man?" The old man glanced up at him but gave no sign of inviting him in, merely posed the question.

Yao Qian, unwilling to stoop to the level of a mere gatekeeper, simply asked, "Is this the residence of Master Luo Hanyi? I am here to pay my respects."

"There’s no such person here. You’re at the wrong place. Go on, move along," the old man waved him off and made to close the gate.

Having come all this way, Yao Qian was not about to give up so easily, nor would he let the old man succeed. He pressed his hand against the door, immediately noticing that this ill-tempered old man had quite a grip—no weaker than his own, though he was young and strong.

A thought flashed through his mind and he said, "It is said that Master Luo Hanyi, in his youth, roamed free in Pingyang, known to all in the martial world as the 'Wild Diamond.' Seeing you today, your reputation is indeed well-deserved. No need for concern, sir—I come with a recommendation from Old Wang at the yamen, and mean you no harm."

If he still did not realize that this obstinate old man was Luo Hanyi himself, he might as well give up on life in the martial world.

He surmised that perhaps the 'Wild Diamond' had made too many enemies in his younger days, and now, in his waning years and diminished strength, wished to avoid their notice.

Upon hearing his explanation, the old man cast him a searching look, then turned away and pushed the battered wooden door fully open, leading the way inside.

Yao Qian hurried to follow.

The courtyard was small. Fresh seasonal vegetables grew along the corners of the walls, and directly ahead stood two dilapidated rooms. The paper on the windows was torn, flapping and rustling in the breeze.

Even without close inspection, it was clear that the once-feared 'Wild Diamond' now lived in straitened circumstances.

The two sat down in the middle of the courtyard. The old man sprawled in a rattan chair with broken arms, pouring himself a drink. Even before Yao Qian drew near, the sharp, pungent smell of the liquor assaulted his nose, making him almost sneeze.

The quality of the liquor was abysmal—nothing but raw fire.

The old man furrowed his brow but drank with evident pleasure. After a moment, he smacked his lips and asked, "So, what does that brat want, sending you to find this old man? If it’s help you seek, forget it. I can barely look after myself these days."

Yao Qian watched the old man drink with such leisurely contentment that, if he didn’t know better, he might have been fooled into thinking he was a hidden sage, living in transcendence, untouched by joy or sorrow.

"Uncle Wang knows well that you now gather chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, savoring peace and freedom. My purpose today, however, is that your martial skills are too precious to be wasted in obscurity. I am willing to offer a hundred taels of silver to study martial arts under your guidance."

Yao Qian spoke with polished courtesy, though only he knew what he truly thought. But in order to learn this man’s famed hard-body techniques, he was prepared to pay dearly. Sacrificing a hundred taels would leave him destitute, but compared to other options, it was a fair bargain—an upfront payment, with no lingering entanglements or personal debts.

Hearing the sum, the old man, despite his sage-like air, could not help but be moved. Only he knew how dire his situation had become. With a hundred taels, at least he could improve his life, not worry about starving, and even in death, avoid being thrown out in a straw mat to rot among the nameless dead.

Thus, with each needing what the other offered, they quickly reached an accord. The old man, seeing that Yao Qian could offer no more, concluded the deal.

He agreed to the terms: payment settled, a one-time transaction. He would hand over the manual and provide at most five days of intensive instruction.

Yao Qian accepted without hesitation. After all, this was a business deal, not a bond between master and disciple.

With the transaction complete, both were satisfied.

The old man reclined in his sunlit rattan chair, speaking calmly: "Since you come with Old Wang’s introduction, you must know that in my youth, I was best at hard-body martial arts. The technique I practice is called Iron Shirt. Master it, and your skin will be like armor—impervious to fists and weapons."

"But success does not come easy. Without unwavering resolve, you will never achieve it. It takes great willpower, boldness, relentless perseverance. I have taught several before you, but few have ever truly succeeded."

Now that he had agreed, Luo Hanyi had no intention of holding back. Indeed, his Iron Shirt was a difficult art, far more so than his words suggested.

It demanded not only willpower and strength, but each stage of practice was a torment, a trial by pain. In the end, it required money—without ample funds for treatment and healing, the injuries alone could ruin a practitioner forever.

And who among the truly wealthy would pay good money to suffer so?

Thus, Luo Hanyi found it harder and harder to find a suitable disciple. With age and waning strength, and many old grudges behind him, he had retreated from the world, growing ever more destitute.

Yao Qian listened with rapt attention to the old man’s explanation of the Iron Shirt’s many difficulties and pitfalls.

Luo Hanyi had expected this young man to shrink away like all the others, daunted by the challenge. But instead, Yao Qian’s eyes shone with eagerness, as if he wished to begin that very moment.

By late afternoon, Yao Qian took his leave and returned to the magistrate’s quarters.

Finding the place empty, he guessed everyone was out investigating Chen Shanqi, the wielder of the Heart-Shattering Palm. He thought nothing of it, rested for a while, and when the time came, signed out and went home.

The next morning, after checking in at the yamen, he brought the silver to Luo Hanyi, handing over the hundred taels in full. This was the sum total of his predecessor’s savings, plus the bounty from slaying Yu Hongchuan, the Bone-Grinder.

A heavy price indeed.

With the silver in hand, Luo Hanyi’s manner grew even warmer. He immediately handed over a thin book.

Yao Qian took it eagerly, a trace of excitement showing on his face.

Iron Shirt.

The manual was slender, obviously well-thumbed, its corners worn and pages wrinkled.

But he cared not at all, his heart full of joy.

"Very well. For the next five days, I will teach you the basics. After that, your progress will depend on your own will and perseverance."