Chapter 36: Drawing Fire from Beneath the Cauldron (Part I)

Zheng Yuanshou was a man of imposing stature and striking appearance.

The Zhejing Hall branch of the Zheng clan traditionally passed down the study of classics and history. Zheng Yi, a man of natural elegance, possessed a profound understanding of music and rhythm. Yet, when it came to Zheng Yuanshou, this intellectual legacy seemed to have bypassed him entirely. He was broad-minded, favored martial arts, and was well-versed in military strategy—a temperament that seemed at odds with the scholarly name of his branch.

Coincidentally, the Anyuan Hall branch was founded on martial prowess, yet Zheng Renji possessed an elegant soul and preferred the arts of dance and performance, the exact opposite of Zheng Yuanshou.

When the elder Zheng Dashi was alive, he once made a jest: "Why was Renji not born into the Anyuan branch, and why does Yuanshou not study the Han Shu?"

The commentary on the *Han Shu* by Zheng Xuan was the standard authority upheld by everyone at the time.

It seemed as though Zheng Renji should have been born into the Zhejing Hall and Zheng Yuanshou should have settled in the Anyuan Hall; only then would their natures align with the meanings of their respective halls. But since fate had reversed their roles, no one could do anything about it. Perhaps because of this, after Zheng Yi passed away, he entrusted the Zhejing Hall to Zheng Shanyuan, while leaving all his military titles and honors to Zheng Yuanshou.

Zheng Yuanshou had two great passions: soaking in hot springs and watching *jiaodi*.

*Jiaodi*, a sport combining elements of wrestling and sumo, had been popular since the Eastern Han Dynasty.

Zheng Yuanshou was so obsessed with watching these matches that he could often stay in the arena for an entire day without food or water. He even kept dozens of wrestlers of his own, and when the mood struck, he would wager on the outcomes.

Everyone in Xingyang knew of his hobby.

In the arena west of the city, a private box was reserved exclusively for his use.

Just as Zheng Shanyuan and Zheng Yuancong were haggling over their affairs, Zheng Yuanshou arrived at the west arena with a group of bodyguards and servants.

The gatekeeper recognized him at once and rushed forward, bowing respectfully, "Great General!"

"Great General, you have arrived a bit late today. Three matches have already taken place inside. Your 'Western Wild Lion' has won two in a row, and only now have you arrived... haha, your friend has been waiting for quite some time."

"Friend?" Zheng Yuanshou was startled. "What friend?"

"Is the person inside not your friend? It is a young master."

Zheng Yuanshou felt strange, but he did not feel threatened. This was Xingyang, his family's territory; he did not believe anyone would dare to cause trouble here. He signaled for the gatekeeper to clear the path and strode toward his private box.

Outside the room, he told his guards to wait. Since this person claimed to be his friend and was occupying his seat, they must be an acquaintance, and likely meant no harm.

Just as he was about to open the door, he heard a shout from inside: "Bravo!"

The voice sounded very young, not like that of an adult. Zheng Yuanshou was even more puzzled. Could it be an old friend who had brought their child along? In the arena, "jiaodi" was divided into "living" and "dead" matches. As the names implied, the "dead" matches were brutal, often ending only in death. In the arena, killing was not a crime.

Zheng Yuanshou entered the room and froze.

Standing behind the railing was a young boy in white, about twelve or thirteen years old, clapping gently. Beside him stood another youth, lean and sturdy, about fifteen or sixteen, who seemed to be the boy's bodyguard.

"Who are you children?" Zheng Yuanshou frowned and asked in a deep voice.

The boy in white turned around and offered a polite salute with a smile. "Uncle Zheng, your nephew offers his respects!"

*Calling me Uncle? Whose child is this? Why have I never seen him?*

Zheng Yuanshou looked at the refined boy, observing him from head to toe for a long time. "Who exactly are you? Why do you call me Uncle? Where are your elders?"

The boy smiled. "Your nephew, Zheng Yanqing, has come specifically to visit you today."

*Zheng Yanqing!*

Zheng Yuanshou was stunned, then his mouth fell open. "When did you return to Xingyang?"

It was not that Zheng Yuanshou had never seen Zheng Yanqing. Four years ago, when Yanqing had followed Zheng Shi'an to Xingyang to pay respects to the ancestors, Zheng Yuanshou had caught a glimpse of him. But he hadn't paid much attention—who would notice a six-year-old child? Even if Yanqing had already gained some fame, in Zheng Yuanshou's eyes, it meant nothing.

Four years later, Yanqing had grown taller and his features had changed. Had he not identified himself, Zheng Yuanshou would never have recognized him. After all, there were dozens of children of Yanqing's age in the seven branches of the Zheng clan; how could he keep track of them all?

"Your nephew returned twenty-four days ago."

"Ah?"

"I have been wanting to visit you, Uncle, but I was delayed by some matters. Please forgive my intrusion today."

Though he was only a child, he spoke with the composure of an adult. It was no wonder the gatekeeper had referred to him as a "young master." He really was young—so young that it gave Zheng Yuanshou a sense of absurdity. But he had been back for twenty-four days? Why had he heard nothing?

*Twenty-four days ago...* Zheng Yuanshou's mouth hung open as he suddenly recalled. That was the very day Pei Shuying arrived in Xingyang.

If he had already returned, why hadn't he appeared? What had he been doing during these twenty-four days?

Without realizing it, Zheng Yuanshou began to view Yanqing as an adult. It was no surprise; Yanqing’s demeanor was far too steady for a ten-year-old. Twenty-four days ago, Pei Shuying’s arrival caused a stir; a few days ago, Cui Zhiren’s sudden arrival put the entire Zheng clan under pressure. If these were all the work of this child, then it was truly... *Since he dares to see me, is he here to discuss the hall names?*

Zheng Yuanshou found the thought amusing.

"Yanqing, this is the first time we've met properly, isn't it? Sit, sit."

Zheng Yanqing shook his head. "Uncle forgets, this is our second meeting. Four years ago, when the clan leader was ill and could not preside over the ancestral rites, you presided over them yourself. Even today, your grace on that day remains clear in my memory."

*That was perfectly said!* Zheng Yuanshou felt pleased, his smile deepening.

"Hahaha, Yanqing, no wonder Uncle Renji says you are a little genius. Seeing you today, it is indeed true."

He sat down as his guards served wine. "Pass the word down: I have seen no one today."

Zheng Yuanshou spoke calmly, and his guards immediately understood. As they retreated, they couldn't help but steal curious glances at Zheng Yanqing.

"Speak, why have you come today?" Zheng Yuanshou asked bluntly.

"Your nephew has come to make a small trade with you, Uncle."

"A trade?" Zheng Yuanshou burst into laughter, then his expression turned sharp. "Little one, who do you think you are? You want to trade with me? Even Zheng Renji would not dare to be so presumptuous. A wet-behind-the-ears child like you dares to speak of trades? If not for your age, I would have you whipped for that remark alone."

Zheng Yuanshou was a man of the military; his anger carried genuine weight. But for Yanqing, this "aura" was ineffective. Having met Yu Juluo and studied under Changsun Sheng, Yanqing remained unfazed. He smiled, stood up, poured a cup of wine for Zheng Yuanshou, and sat back down quietly.

Zheng Yuanshou, having failed to intimidate Yanqing, felt a flicker of embarrassment.

"I hear you have a passion for *jiaodi*," Yanqing said. "The 'Western Wild Lion' in this arena is yours, is he not?"

"That's right. You know of him?"

"Since you feel I am not qualified to trade with you, Uncle... how about we make a wager?"

"What kind of wager?"

"My brother here is also fond of *jiaodi* and is quite skilled. Let him fight your 'Western Wild Lion.' If I lose, I will turn and leave, never to mention the trade again. But if I win..."

Zheng Yuanshou looked at the lean youth standing by the wall. "Nephew, you must understand, this is no children's game. My Lion only fights to the death. If he enters the ring, your friend will likely lose his life."

"Brother Shen, what do you think?"

Shen Guang grinned, revealing white teeth. "I have no interest in 'living' matches. 'Dead' matches are more interesting... I only fear the General will be too angry to accept the loss."

Zheng Yuanshou flew into a rage. "I would not be able to accept a loss?"

He laughed loudly. "Little one, if you seek death, I will grant it. Nephew, don't say I bullied you. If I lose, this dragon-ring sword, bestowed by the late Emperor, is yours. As for the trade you mentioned, I know what it is. If you can convince the others, I can help you when the time comes."

As he spoke, he slid a gold dragon-headed arm ring from his wrist. He pressed the dragon's tongue, and with a metallic ring, a cold, sharp blade emerged. The sword was thin as a cicada's wing, flexible as a spirit snake.

"This was a gift from the chieftain Ning Mengli. The Emperor named it 'Dragon Ring' and bestowed it upon my father. When not in use, it coils around the arm. It is sharp enough to cut iron like mud and kills without leaving a bloodstain. If your friend can kill my Lion, the sword is yours. But if you lose... you won't be leaving so easily. What is your stake?"

Zheng Yanqing said calmly, "I can grant you three conditions, Uncle."

Zheng Yuanshou was stunned, then broke into a fit of laughter that left him in tears. Yanqing sat like a monk in meditation, unmoved.

Finally, Zheng Yuanshou stopped laughing. "Little one, you are worthy of your reputation. For that offer alone, I accept the bet. Send the Lion into the ring."

Shen Guang whispered to Yanqing and walked out of the room.

Zheng Yuanshou watched Yanqing in silence. A moment later, cheers erupted from the arena. A man over nine feet tall, dark-skinned, with curly hair and deep-set eyes, stepped into the ring.

Simultaneously, the torches around the arena were lit. In the rules of *jiaodi*, half-lit meant a "living" match, but all torches lit signified a fight to the death.

The "Western Wild Lion" was clearly not Han Chinese, perhaps Persian or African. He was muscular and powerful, wearing only a loincloth and a red "lucky ribbon" around his neck.

Yanqing had seen such matches before. As the Lion roared and strutted, Yanqing remained indifferent.

"Little one, it is not too late to regret this."

"Uncle, if you regret it, you may still withdraw. Otherwise, you will lose a fine Lion for nothing."

"Hmph!" Zheng Yuanshou grunted.

When Shen Guang entered the ring, a stir went through the crowd. Compared to the Lion, Shen Guang looked far too thin and small.

The referee entered to explain the situation, then left to allow the spectators to place their bets. Shen Guang stretched his limbs, unbothered by the jeers, while the Lion continued to flex his muscles.

Ten minutes later, the referee returned to check their gear, then exited.

*Dong, dong, dong...*

A rhythmic drumbeat began. The fight to the death had started.

Humans are inherently bloodthirsty creatures, and this scene held their rapt attention. Zheng Yuanshou straightened his posture and licked his lips. "Little one, it has begun... it's too late to back out now."

The referee struck the gong.

The Western Wild Lion roared and charged toward Shen Guang. At that moment, Shen Guang raised his arm, pointed at the Lion, and made a throat-slitting gesture. The crowd went wild.

Ever since Yanqing had first used the gesture at Yuanbi City, it had become a ritual before duels.

Xingyang was not far from Luoyang; how could the Lion not recognize the gesture? Enraged, he roared and lunged at Shen Guang. Since the foreigner likely did not speak Chinese, his roar was the only way to vent his fury.