Chapter Thirty-Seven: Using a Gun (Begging for Favorites and Recommendations)

After staying at the Cheng family estate for a month, he returned to Luoyang, taking with him five ordinary lances for practice. Meanwhile, the Cheng family began forging a superior cavalry lance especially for him, crafted with utmost care and expected to be ready in three years’ time.

Three years—setting aside the price of materials, one could only imagine the labor costs involved.

The adage “the martial are wealthy, the literati are poor” could not be truer. Did you really think a sect would so generously gift you six lances?

Feng Xiaobao’s formal offerings for apprenticeship were: “One thousand strings of cash as the master’s fee! Ten crates each of the finest soaps and bath soaps, one thousand pills each of premium Six-Ingredient Rehmannia Pills and Great Strength Pills!” There were other gifts as well.

After all, he was apprenticing himself to a founding Duke of the Empire!

To join the household of a Duke, could the offerings be meager? If they were insufficient, it would not only be shameful for him, but the Duke would not hesitate to expel him on the spot!

To gather such a grand apprenticeship gift, Feng Xiaobao became deeply indebted, owing the portly tea merchant Gao Baling another three thousand strings of cash!

He already owed two thousand, now added another three thousand, yet Gao Baling remained all smiles, unconcerned by the growing debt, requiring no collateral, and even offering him discounts.

Princess Qianjin, though wealthy and on close terms with him, was not someone from whom Feng Xiaobao would borrow money; a matter of masculine pride.

Truth be told, even these offerings were somewhat lacking, but the Cheng family, understanding his limited means, graciously accepted them.

So, for all those who thought themselves nouveau riche from selling medicine and soap, compared to the great houses, you were still far from measuring up!

The same list of gifts appeared at the residence of General Yang Deqing of the Left Guard. In contrast to the understated proceedings at the Cheng estate, Yang Deqing’s celebration was grand, inviting many colleagues, friends, and relatives as witnesses, filling the event with much fanfare!

Their positions differed: the Cheng family, being a noble house of the Tang court, naturally harbored a wariness toward Wu Mei’s ascent, intent on preserving the Tang orthodoxy and fearing her potential rebellion. Yet, under the current circumstances, they could neither offend Wu Mei outright nor draw too close to her.

As for Yang Deqing, having risen entirely through Wu Mei’s patronage, had no such concerns about being entangled with her faction.

Before a crowd of onlookers, Feng Xiaobao knelt and bowed deeply to Yang Deqing in the formal rites of apprenticeship.

Yang Deqing accepted the offerings and presented him with a Crescent Moon Scimitar in return.

“This blade,” he explained, “was seized by me from an enemy prince in the Western Regions. It is peerlessly sharp, felling men as easily as firewood. I give it to you now, hoping you will serve your lord and country faithfully, and use this blade to cut down your foes...”

“I will not fail my master’s expectations!” Feng Xiaobao replied resolutely.

“My family, the Yangs of Suzhou, rose from humble beginnings. His Majesty raised me from the ranks for my service in the Turpan and Western campaigns. My family wields the spear, slaying enemy chieftains; by royal favor I was made General of the Left Guard...” Yang Deqing recounted his family history, emphasizing their martial prowess and unwavering loyalty, and how the court had rewarded them generously. Since Feng Xiaobao was now his disciple, he must uphold and glorify these noble traditions.

He spoke even longer than Cheng Huaide had. Feng Xiaobao could only listen, forcing himself to pay attention.

Yet patience had its reward: Yang Deqing personally began teaching him spear techniques!

Despite his busy military duties, Yang Deqing made time whenever he could, instructing Feng Xiaobao by hand.

Spear training could begin on the ground, starting with the stance!

Standing with the spear, one’s body should be as straight and upright as the weapon itself.

“Our Yang family’s soldiers,” Yang Deqing said, “may not claim perfection, but we are skilled! Much of that is due to our training in spear stance.”

Isn’t this the same principle as the military postures taught in later generations? Standing at attention is more than just military bearing—it instills a subtle discipline and obedience. Feng Xiaobao noted this process carefully.

After three days of practicing the spear stance, Yang Deqing asked if he had learned any spear techniques before.

He had! With renewed spirit, Feng Xiaobao demonstrated the “pierce a hundred sheets of paper” technique, tossing paper into the air and striking it with the spear.

Seeing his steady hand and swift movements, evidence of much hard work, Yang Deqing was delighted. “Your foundation is solid; we can save a lot of time. Come, I shall now teach you the Yang family’s Throat-Locking Spear!”

He flourished his spear, and with a series of swift thrusts, struck at the throat of a straw dummy dozens of times in the blink of an eye.

He explained, “The Throat-Locking Spear has two variations, and one constant.”

“No matter how it changes, the focus remains unchanged—strike at the enemy’s vital points!”

“There are many vulnerable spots on the body: the head, the throat, the chest. The Throat-Locking Spear targets the throat because the area of attack can be expanded—it can go up to the head or down to the chest. That is the second variation of the technique!”

Why target the throat? He elaborated, “The head has eyes; when it perceives an attack, the body instinctively reacts, making it the most agile in defense.”

“The body is often armored, able to deflect blows, with ample flesh so a strike may not be fatal.”

“But the throat—lacking eyes, hard to armor, and extremely lethal—is the body’s weakest link. The Throat-Locking Spear is designed to attack there!”

“The challenge of the Throat-Locking Spear is that the target is small, so the spearhead must always be aimed at it, constantly adjusting position.” Yang Deqing demonstrated, executing each movement and footwork with precision.

This was esoteric knowledge, and Feng Xiaobao focused with all his might, memorizing and absorbing every detail.

Yang Deqing’s spear tip trembled like a viper’s tongue, striking the wooden dummy’s throat seven times in an instant.

After he withdrew and grounded the spear, the dummy’s neck gave a crisp crack and fell off.

“Well? How does the Yang family’s spear compare to the Cheng family’s lance?” As soon as he spoke, Yang Deqing regretted it.

Feng Xiaobao stared, dumbfounded. “The Cheng family never taught me any lance techniques...”

They looked at each other awkwardly—Yang Deqing thinking, “Those stingy Chengs, teaching him the lance but withholding the techniques!”

Feng Xiaobao was thinking much the same: “Those stingy Chengs, teaching me the lance but hiding the real moves!”

Both silently cursed the Cheng family.

It was true—the Chengs had held something back. The lance had techniques: used at full length, it was for thrusting; at mid-length, it could attack or defend, but the Chengs hadn’t taught him that!

After all, Feng Xiaobao had merely shown promise. If he ever truly achieved something, perhaps the Chengs would give him an “advanced edition.”

In any case, Feng Xiaobao dared not resent them. They had still taught him the essentials—he could carry and wield the lance on horseback, achieving a rudimentary grasp, while ordinary soldiers couldn’t even ride with one!

Yang Deqing was annoyed at his own loose tongue—had he not spoken so much, he could have reserved a few tricks for future generations. But now that everything was out in the open, he decided to leave it to fate.

“The Yang family spear has seventy-two forms, emphasizing sharp eyesight, quick hands, and swift footwork. The techniques are intricate, and each thrust targets a vital spot. The first thirty-six forms are the constant—focused on the throat! Watch closely!”

Yang Deqing demonstrated the thirty-six Throat-Locking forms, each like a flock of birds homing to a phoenix, every thrust locking onto the throat.

“The last thirty-six forms are the variations: they appear to target the throat, but in reality, they feint and strike at the head or heart instead!”

The spear tip flashed coldly, seeming to aim for the throat, but suddenly shifted to the dummy’s heart—a truly ruthless technique!

Yang Deqing held nothing back, explaining every crucial point.

Feng Xiaobao learned quickly, memorizing and comprehending each part, seemingly mastering the Throat-Locking Spear within a week.

“There’s a saying: ‘A year for the saber, a month for the staff, a lifetime for the spear!’” Seeing Feng Xiaobao’s pride, Yang Deqing warned, “But! There’s another saying: ‘A year for the saber, a month for the staff, and a lifetime still isn’t enough for the spear!’”

“The spear is the ancestor of all weapons—easy to learn but hard to master. Just because you’ve learned it doesn’t mean you can kill on the battlefield. The next step is to have someone spar with you!”

...

“Come!” A burly soldier, face scarred and fierce, stepped forward with a broad saber to face Feng Xiaobao.

Feng Xiaobao, with his spear, imitated a viper’s strike, repeatedly thrusting at the throat.

The soldier remained unmoved, parrying each thrust with his saber, effortlessly knocking the spear aside.

Yang Deqing instructed from the side, “Did you notice his eyes? He’s watching your spearhead. Every time your movement is too forceful, he lightly deflects it. If you continue like this, you’ll surely lose!”

Seeing Feng Xiaobao hesitate, Yang Deqing encouraged him, “Don’t stop—lose if you must, but get familiar with the techniques!”

Thus, Feng Xiaobao circled the soldier, thrusting left, right, and center, steadily improving his skills. The opponent only defended, focusing solely on deflecting the spearhead.

As Feng Xiaobao’s movements grew larger and more aggressive—shifting from an even offense and defense to a seventy-thirty split, pressing forward relentlessly—the soldier’s expression turned fierce, and with a powerful sweep, sent Xiaobao’s spear flying, leaving him wide open.

As Feng Xiaobao scrambled to recover, the soldier’s blade was already at his throat!

“Frustrating!” Feng Xiaobao muttered. “I wish I could learn his saber technique too!”

“You’ve got a good eye. This is Yang Debiao—my ‘King of Soldiers’ from the Left Guard. His saber has claimed over a hundred lives. He’s my chief bodyguard. If it weren’t for your request, I wouldn’t have let him spar with you—not even Yang Chengxian has faced him!” Yang Deqing explained.

So it was—his defeat was not undeserved.

“Thank you!” Feng Xiaobao said gratefully.

Yang Debiao sneered, “Your footwork is unstable, your aim off, your moves slow, your strength inconsistent... If not for the general’s orders, I could have taken your life in three strokes!”

His criticism left Feng Xiaobao drenched in sweat, all pride vanished.

“Again!” ordered Yang Deqing.

...

Feng Xiaobao sparred with Yang Debiao for a week, improving daily—his footwork steadier, aim sharper, movements swifter, force ever more unpredictable!

After seven days, Yang Debiao stopped holding back and fought him in earnest. Spear clashed with saber; Yang Debiao pressed in, trying to close the distance, relying on his shorter weapon for an advantage. But he could no longer fend off Feng Xiaobao’s viper-like attacks. Forced to close in, only then did he have a chance to win.

Feng Xiaobao remained calm, wielding the spear with agility, always keeping the right distance to maximize his reach.

Both were exhausted by the end, the bout ending in a draw.

After another week, Yang Deqing sent in soldiers armed with different weapons to spar, helping Feng Xiaobao internalize the Yang family techniques through real combat.

This grueling training lasted two full months—when not practicing alone, he was sparring. Every day was packed, and Feng Xiaobao barely tended to his business, only meeting friends occasionally or spending time with Princess Qianjin.

Every five days, he’d rest for two, and over those two days, he would practice his hand-to-hand skills, the basics of weaponry, and lance techniques.

Knowing Feng Xiaobao was in training, Princess Qianjin supported him wholeheartedly, sending hearty meat dishes and nourishing soups to the general’s residence daily to ensure he had ample nutrition (by now, she’d learned the word). She even personally massaged him, rubbing medicinal oils into his muscles to dispel bruises and ease his joints.

Moved by her affection, Feng Xiaobao trained all the harder, his enthusiasm growing and astonishing Yang Deqing, who, in turn, became ever more confident in his disciple.

At first, Yang had considered holding something back, but now, seeing Feng Xiaobao’s dedication, he taught him without reservation.

Even Yang Chengxian grew envious, complaining, “You treat him like your own son—you never taught me the spear with such devotion!”

Thus, when Feng Xiaobao bowed to his master, it was with a sincerity he never imagined possible. As a modern man transported to this world, raised in the spirit of freedom and equality, he had never bent his knees, but now, before Yang Deqing, he bowed with genuine reverence and gratitude.

Hearts are connected—Yang Deqing, fully understanding Feng Xiaobao’s character, was deeply gratified and taught with even greater care.

Everyone is constantly changing. At first, Yang Deqing’s motives were opportunistic, but seeing Feng Xiaobao’s progress, he truly regarded him as his successor.

A master willing to teach, a disciple eager to learn—their footwork in combat became increasingly refined, and soon, it was time to train on horseback.