Volume One, Chapter Three: The Mad Master

For several days in a row, there was still no sign of Master. Thus, Hongkun brought up his idea from that night again. Although Hongpeng was somewhat reluctant, he ultimately couldn’t oppose his senior brother’s wishes and agreed to go out in search of new disciples, while Hongkun stayed home to keep an eye on Yibing, in case Master suddenly appeared.

Seeing Hongpeng about to leave again, Yibing looked utterly unwilling to part. Ever since Peng had brought home the letter, Yibing had given up on the thought of running away. Each day, aside from sleeping until he woke naturally, he spent his time discussing what to eat with Peng. Over the past few days, the two had gotten along quite well, nothing like Kun, who always wore a stern face and sometimes slapped him for no reason.

Time flew by, and soon half a month had passed. The first day of the new month was approaching, and Senior Brother Kun couldn’t help but grow restless. The date he had agreed upon with Master last time was the first of the month, but Master hadn’t shown up. Perhaps he had mistaken the month, so surely this first day, Master would arrive. That fool Peng had been out eating and drinking for half a month and hadn’t brought back a single hair! Every day he sent messages by paper bird, saying he’d found a promising candidate, but their family wouldn’t consent. Then he found another, but claimed the child was so stupid he couldn’t tell his left hand from his right. That wasn’t stupid—that was idiotic! In total, he claimed to have found seven or eight, but none were suitable. Eventually, Kun began to suspect Peng was being deliberately difficult. Yet Peng argued reasonably, saying at least Yibing had accomplished the impossible—that is, his weight didn’t affect his speed! If their candidate wasn’t even as good as Yibing, then they might as well stick with him. Helpless, Kun told him to hurry, and if he couldn’t find anyone, he had to be back before the first, for facing their mad master alone was simply too terrifying.

Luckily, the day before the first, Hongpeng trotted home. He hadn’t found a disciple, but he’d certainly eaten himself round and plump, especially with a glow of wellness that seemed impossible for someone who’d supposedly been out in the sun all day searching.

"Brother, here are vegetarian chicken drumsticks made from tofu!" Hongpeng pretended not to notice Kun’s suspicious gaze, ignoring him completely.

“Hm? You brat, teasing me again!” Though Kun said so, the moment he saw the big bag, he forgot all his troubles, grabbing it eagerly and wolfing it down. Honestly, with Peng gone, Kun couldn’t cook, so meals were so bad that Yibing bounced around daily, and even Kun swallowed his food only by force. He’d suffered enough.

“Where’s Yibing?”

“Sleeping!”

“Still sleeping? I’ll go wake him!”

“No need! Even when I make terrible food, he crawls out just smelling it—something this fragrant, he’ll come without being called…” Kun hastily grinned and stopped Peng. Over the past half month, he’d come to know this little rascal thoroughly.

“What smells so good?” Before the words were finished, Yibing rolled over with his eyes closed.

“Tch! Your brother Peng brought it!” Kun cast a scornful glance at Yibing.

“Wow—Brother Peng, you’re finally back! These days, I haven’t eaten my fill…” Yibing dove headlong into Peng’s arms, nearly knocking him over.

“Nonsense!” Kun couldn’t help but kick him.

The next morning, Hongkun and Hongpeng rose early. They had no mind for training, so after a simple breakfast, they stretched their necks, waiting in the house. Midnight came and went, but Master never appeared, so the three went back to their rooms to rest.

Unexpectedly, before dawn, a tremendous sound suddenly echoed in the courtyard, jolting even Yibing from his bed, though he could sleep through thunder. A man began to curse loudly in the yard: "Kun! Peng! You two little bastards, why’d you move the pond?! Damn it!"

"Master… Master… We didn’t…”

A flurry of slaps followed, frightening Yibing into trembling.

“Didn’t move it? Why do I fall in every time?!”

“Master, couldn’t you look down when descending?”

Another slap resounded.

"I’m a great immortal—look down? The pond should move away on its own when it sees me coming down!"

"Fine… We’ll fill it in today!"

"No! If you fill it in, I’ll break your legs! I just don’t believe it—I always land in it! Next time…” This master was stubborn indeed.

“Master…”

"Right, where’s the disciple I told you to find?"

"In the house… sleeping, I’ll go get him!"

"No need! Lead the way!"

Yibing, already dressed, hurriedly stood up in anxiety. The door swung open and a short, middle-aged man stepped in. Though his attire was odd—neither quite Daoist nor secular—he radiated an immortal’s aura, and water dripped from him head to toe. Looking closely, he was handsome enough, with four—yes, four, not three—long strands of beard. The middle strand had been deliberately split into two, and most peculiarly, perhaps because his beard was too long, all four strands were tied together.

“Hahaha…” Yibing couldn’t help himself. Hongkun, who had sneaked in, was so furious his nose nearly twisted, and he kicked Yibing: “Kneel! Call Master!”

“Hehe… Master… hehe…” Yibing dropped to his knees with a thud, startling Master so much he almost sprang off the floor. His face turned pale as he nervously circled Yibing again and again, while sweat broke out on his disciples’ foreheads. As expected, Master stepped forward and slapped both of them.

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“You little fools! I told you to find a disciple, not a fat one…” Master’s beard fluttered.

“He’s… he’s… special… He can catch rabbits…” Hongpeng stammered.

“Him?” Master glanced at Yibing, his mouth twisting.

“Really, Master… Ah!” Master slapped Hongpeng again.

“You… if I bring him out, won’t people laugh their teeth out? Whose disciple is this fat? Others have graceful fairy maidens behind them; I’ll be followed by a round fatty. She’ll die laughing at me…”

“She?” The brothers exchanged glances.

“Hey! Little fatty, what were you laughing at?” Master suddenly turned, glaring fiercely at Yibing.

Yibing’s broad face fell instantly: “I wasn’t laughing… Your beard is very beautiful…” Beside him, Kun’s face turned green!

“Really?” Master looked delighted.

“Mm-hmm…” Yibing nodded, bewildered. Before he finished, Master slapped him: “Nonsense! You’re laughing at me! You’re mocking me! They’re all laughing at me… all laughing…” Staring out the window, his lips quivered.

“Master, don’t be like this…” Hongkun’s eyes grew moist.

“You… you… are all laughing at me…” Master suddenly bowed his head in sadness.

“No, Master, we’re not… We’ll go find another disciple for you!” Hongpeng blushed.

“Go find another? What—afraid I can’t teach him? Huh?!” Master’s eyes blazed as he glared at Hongpeng, who quickly hid behind Kun.

“Master, whatever you say goes!” Kun hurried forward to support him, but Master kicked him to the ground: “Whatever I say goes? You trick me… only know how to trick me…”

“Master…” Now exposed, Hongpeng quaked in fear. But Master, after looking at him, didn’t strike—he turned away in disappointment.

“Little fatty, do you really want to be my disciple?” Master stared at Yibing with deep sorrow. The two disciples behind him urgently gestured at Yibing, and Kun even threatened with his sword.

“Master… I… I truly do!” Yibing said, glancing at his two desperate senior brothers.

“Really?” Master remained skeptical.

“Really! Master, I swear to heaven!” No sooner had Yibing spoken than his brothers covered their faces in pain, leaving Yibing bewildered.

“Swear to heaven? He’s nothing—why swear to him…”

“…Master, I swear to you!” Yibing quickly changed tack.

Master paused: “Heh… teachable child…” Turning to the brothers, he said: “This little fatty isn’t bad!” The brothers nodded vigorously.

“Little fatty, what’s your name?” Master suddenly sounded gentle, making Yibing’s hair stand on end. This was like a big bad wolf!

“I’m…” Yibing began, but Kun quickly interjected: “He’s called Yibing! Like the bread!”

“I’m asking him!” Master glared at Kun, who retreated.

“…Yes, I’m Yibing…” With his senior brothers winking behind him, Yibing had no choice but to nod.

“Do you know how to read?” Master interrupted his response.

“I do… not much! All taught by Mr. Liu from the private school…”

“Who’s Mr. Liu?!” Master’s face darkened.

“Mr. Liu is the poor scholar from their village, only knows two characters! Not an immortal!” Kun hurried forward and kicked Yibing.

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“Oh, a poor scholar! I thought…” Master’s expression softened.

“Immortal?” Yibing’s mouth dropped in astonishment. Kun came over and kicked him again: “Master is master—not an immortal! Don’t guess wildly!”

“You…” Yibing pouted in anger.

“Master, Master, what do you plan to teach him today?” Hongpeng, who’d been hiding, suddenly piped up.

“Teach what? Didn’t I teach him yesterday?” Master stared at Hongpeng, who froze.

“Master, this is the fourth one; it’s not the same as those three… You see his size…” Kun knew Master was confused again.

“Yes, yes!” Master slapped himself: “Start with the basics, start with the basics…” He pulled out a stack of scriptures from his robe, casually handed one to Yibing.

“Master, then we’ll go out…” The brothers didn’t wait for a reply and dashed outside. They didn’t dare go far, sitting on the steps just outside. Still, they felt much more relaxed—not having to guard against Master’s slaps.

But barely half an hour passed before shouts and slaps echoed from inside, soon followed by Yibing’s earth-shattering cries. Kun sighed; sure enough, Master soon stormed out.

“Go, go, fetch something to eat!”

“…You’re hungry?”

“Nonsense! This damned fatty—can’t recite the scripture, wails when slapped, says he’s hungry! Hurry up, this hellish howling…” Master didn’t even enter the house.

“Yes, yes, Master…” Kun snickered as he rushed to the kitchen.

It must have been the two steamed buns, for Yibing didn’t cry again until noon. While Peng was preparing lunch, Kun peeked through the door crack. What he saw nearly made him burst out laughing.

Inside, Master and disciple sat cross-legged. Yibing held the scripture in both hands, shaking his head as he tried to recite. Master held a bun in his left hand, and slapped Yibing’s broad face with his right. But whenever Yibing opened his mouth to cry, Master stuffed the bun into his mouth.

After lunch, Master took two sesame cakes inside. Unsurprisingly, the afternoon passed peacefully. As dusk fell, Kun and Peng finally saw Master push open the door.

“Hm… this fatty…” Master exhaled deeply.

“Master, please sit, have some tea!” The brothers had already set out tea and snacks in the courtyard.

“You little bastards! Finding such a disciple—are you trying to kill me?” Master kicked them both.

“Is he too stupid? If so, we’ll find a smarter one!” Kun hurried to massage Master’s shoulders, while Peng rolled his eyes.

“He’s not stupid, just always says he’s hungry. If you don’t give him food, he cries. But once he eats, he recites perfectly in a few bites! Damn…” Though Master spoke harshly, his face betrayed no anger.

“Master, don’t curse!” Peng quickly corrected him.

Before Master could respond, Kun slapped Peng: “Master’s not cursing, he’s just expressing himself…” Master glanced at Kun, thinking, “This kid really knows how to talk.”

“Master, this kid might be useful!” Peng rubbed his face, aggrieved: “Don’t be fooled by his size—he’s lightning fast when chasing rabbits!”

“Rabbits?!” Master’s eyes widened.

“No, Master…” Kun’s face changed, about to explain, but Master shouted, leaping into the sky and vanishing.

“Crazy again… crazy again…” Peng stared blankly at the sky where Master had flown.

“It’s all your fault—why mention rabbits!” Kun raised his hand in annoyance.

“What happened? Oh! Right…” Peng finally realized, sticking out his tongue sheepishly.