Chapter 28: Blade’s Gleam

At the third quarter of the hour in the late afternoon, Zhuang Jin completed another round of meditation practice. Emerging from the quiet chamber, he was about to take another dose of Black Essence Powder and refine it through stake exercises when he saw Xiong Lei waiting in the training grounds. "Jin, stop practicing for now. Let's wait for the others to come out, and then go eat together," Xiong Lei called.

Zhuang Jin suddenly realized it was mealtime. He asked, "Brother Xiong, where do the official martial artists eat? How much does a meal cost?"

Such trivial matters had never been mentioned to him by Ping Yongfeng or Chang Hetong. He recalled that, as a martial student, meals were paid for monthly out of pocket, and now he had only eaten for eighteen days.

"If meals for official martial artists cost money, I wonder if I can still go back to the martial students' side and finish the month there?" Zhuang Jin pondered.

"We eat in a different cafeteria now, and the meals are free," Xiong Lei replied, adding with a hint of complaint, "Jin, remember when we were martial students—the division between free and paid meals? Actually, the free meals were for servants without rank in the Shen family, while the paid ones were for ranked servants and official martial artists like us. I've even heard that once you reach the level of household staff, you get special dishes!"

Zhuang Jin nodded, taking note of the key point: official martial artists' meals were free. That was good—it spared him the trouble of scheming over the martial students' food.

He didn't bother asking if the remaining paid meal plan could be refunded. It was obvious it couldn't; the monthly plan had a discount compared to single meals, and from his morning chat with Chang Hetong, he learned that the Shen family handled finances collectively. The silver and meal money paid at the start had already gone to the family's public funds. If he tried to get a refund, the process would be complicated, and even if it could be done, making a fuss over a hundred coins would only leave a bad impression with the clerks—not worth it.

Speaking of paid meals, Zhuang Jin thought of the Opening Meridian Soup. "Brother Xiong, do you think we can still go for the Opening Meridian Soup every morning?"

Xiong Lei was startled by the idea. "The Opening Meridian Soup probably isn't useful for us anymore, is it?"

Before Zhuang Jin could answer, Xiong Lei remembered that every time there was leftover soup, Ping Yongfeng drank it. So, the soup must still be effective for official martial artists.

"The Opening Meridian Soup is a simplified version of Black Essence Powder. Even if it can't sustain three days of practice like the powder, it should still have some effect. It may not last a whole day, as it did for martial students, but an hour or two should be possible," Zhuang Jin mused.

Since it was still useful, the question became whether they could partake. Technically, now that they were official martial artists, not martial students, they shouldn't be allowed. But the initial silver paid for recruitment was for a month, including the soup. From that perspective, they should be entitled.

Xiong Lei was also at a loss. "Jin, why don't I go with you tomorrow morning and you try?"

Zhuang Jin glanced at Xiong Lei, instantly grasping his intention—'go with you,' 'you try'—clearly, Xiong Lei himself had no plans to drink the soup. With his straightforward nature, it made sense he didn't care for a single bowl.

But why accompany him? It was the old story: the dance of the swords pointed elsewhere, all for the sake of Miss Yun. Though Song Lanfeng had recovered and resumed brewing the soup for martial students, Chen Yun still occasionally made rounds. By accompanying Zhuang Jin, Xiong Lei had a legitimate reason to encounter her.

Zhuang Jin hadn't expected Xiong Lei to persist at this point, but having already advised him once, he said nothing more—simply, "Alright."

He had already thought it through; whether they could drink the soup depended on the teaching master. Once the martial students left, the leftover soup belonged to the teaching master; drinking it would encroach on their share. If it were him, Master Ping would probably welcome it, since he wished to foster goodwill. If Zhuang Jin wasn't shy and went over, Master Ping would be pleased—the exchange would only draw them closer.

He wasn't being petty for the sake of a bowl of soup—he was simply poor, forced to calculate for his martial path.

While they talked, Xiang Qichen, Lin Hong, Qian Wende, and Bi Kai emerged from their meditation chambers, and together they headed to the cafeteria.

At the official martial artists' cafeteria, the food was just like the paid meals for martial students—meat in the dishes, plenty of oil. Even better, they could have seconds after finishing their bowl.

It was clear: martial artists were treated differently, worlds apart from martial students.

With the mindset that he had already lost the monthly meal money and needed to eat his fill to make up for it, Zhuang Jin ate two extra bowls. Martial artists had big appetites, and the others weren’t far behind, especially Qian Wende. When it was justified to take advantage, he never held back; his stomach was visibly swollen, and he kept burping.

Afterward, they left the cafeteria, reaching the fork between the training ground and dormitory. Xiong Lei saw Zhuang Jin heading toward the training ground and asked, "Jin, are you going to practice more?"

"Mm," Zhuang Jin replied.

"Come on, Brother Zhuang, we've become official martial artists; you don't need to push so hard. Take a break when you should, balance work and rest," Qian Wende advised.

Xiong Lei agreed, "Yeah, Jin. We just ate, and practicing stake exercises with a full stomach isn't comfortable, nor effective."

"I'm not, I'm going to work on the Black Fiend Palm technique," Zhuang Jin explained. He'd checked earlier—the meditation rooms in this training ground were equipped with oil lamps.

"Alright, Zhuang Jin, you go ahead. We'll head back to the dorm and rest a bit, then come over," Xiang Qichen spoke up unexpectedly. He seemed to still mind the awkward incident Zhuang Jin caused him at noon; his address had changed from 'Jin' at noon to 'Zhuang Jin' now, and his words carried a subtle undertone of exclusion.

The atmosphere quieted for a moment until Bi Kai suddenly spoke, "Brother Zhuang, I'll go with you!"

In just two sentences, the undercurrents of rivalry became apparent.

Xiong Lei, oblivious as ever, said, "Alright, Jin, Kai—go on ahead!"

Qian Wende seemed to pick up on something, or maybe nothing at all. He kept his eyes narrowed and smiling, gently patting his full stomach.

Lin Hong glanced at Zhuang Jin and Bi Kai, then at Xiong Lei, saying nothing.

In the end, Xiang Qichen, Xiong Lei, Qian Wende, and Lin Hong headed back to the dormitory to rest, while Zhuang Jin and Bi Kai made their way to the training ground.

...

At night, as the training ground was about to close, all six returned together, chatting as if nothing had happened at dusk.

When they arrived at the dormitory, someone was already there. Zhuang Jin finally met Jiao Kun, whose name he had heard all day but had yet to see.

...