I Obtained Guan Yu's Martial Arts - Chapter 37

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Obtained Guan Hui’s Martial Arts 037
First Spear of Shanxi (2)
Whack!—
Guan Hui rapped Zhu Hu on the skull and strode toward the Training Grounds with measured steps.
Already gathered there were Yang Wuyuan, the family head, and the upper echelons of the Yang Family Estate, along with their visiting guests.
Since the matter had to be handled before witnesses, Yang Wuyuan had summoned them well in advance.
‘So Zhang Cheng came as well.’
Guan Hui glanced sideways and caught sight of Zhang Cheng, whose expression seemed distinctly uncomfortable.
From the look on his face, it was clear that unpleasant words had been exchanged—much like last night’s banquet.
“You’ve arrived. Did you sleep well last night?”
“Thanks to your kindness, I slept quite well.”
“Hah. That bed was procured from Beijing. I imagine you’ve never experienced such a thing in Yunsheng.”
Perhaps still stung from last night’s humiliation, Yang Wuyuan began needling Guan Hui from the start.
Of course, Guan Hui was not the sort to rise to such provocation easily.
“A true martial artist can sleep even cutting grass for a pillow. The bed was far too soft—in fact, it was quite uncomfortable. I am a true martial artist, you see.”
“……But didn’t you just say you slept well thanks to me?”
“That was mere courtesy. It was too soft and genuinely inconvenient.”
“…….”
Yang Wuyuan’s brow furrowed as he swallowed the retort he’d been about to unleash.
‘The insolent brat.’
He began to fire back another jab, then thought better of it and swallowed his words instead.
He reasoned that he’d soon enough give the young man a thorough beating; there was no point in a battle of tongues now.
“I’ve called you and Zhang Cheng here because I have a proposal for you.”
The moment Yang Wuyuan finished speaking, the eyes of the elders and guests gleamed with light.
They had clearly already plotted among themselves.
“Mm. Before that, I have something I’d like to say.”
Before Yang Wuyuan could open his mouth, Guan Hui stepped forward and ascended the Training Grounds.
“I gratefully accepted your invitation, enjoyed your hospitality, and slept adequately—despite the discomfort.”
“…….”
As Guan Hui mentioned the bed once more, Yang Wuyuan’s face hardened into stone.
“However, I am not one to live long in another’s debt. So I have a proposal of my own.”
“A proposal? What sort of proposal?”
Whisk—
Guan Hui untied the Silver Crescent Blade from his back and gripped it in his hand.
“As repayment for your hospitality, I thought to offer the Yang Family Estate some instruction. What say you to a Martial Match?”
“…….”
Yang Wuyuan’s face contorted into a hideous mask of rage.
“You insolent whelp, how dare you……!”
Bang!—
Yang Wuyuan shattered his chair as he rose, his killing intent pouring forth like a malevolent fog.
“Eek—eek!?”
“Ugh!”
Several guests, unable to withstand the martial artist’s killing intent, stumbled backward with gasps.
The killing intent radiating from the First Spear of Shanxi was far beyond what could be endured by Internal Cultivation Methods practiced for mere health.
“Are you truly suggesting to this Yang Wuyuan that you would offer him instruction?”
Crackle—crackle—
Yang Wuyuan’s killing intent grew denser still, crushing the very air around him with its weight.
“You must have a death wish.”
The Yang Family Estate is called the premier household of Taiyuan.
To dare utter such arrogant words—offering instruction—in the very heart of such a place.
The boy clearly had a death wish.
“Curious. Isn’t instruction normally given by the strong to the weak?”
“…….”
Guan Hui met Yang Wuyuan’s killing intent-laden gaze and offered a faint smile.
“Then I see no flaw in my words.”
“Very well. If you wish to die, I’ll kill you this very instant——”
“P-please, Master. Calm yourself!”
The Yang Family Steward rushed forward desperately and grabbed Yang Wuyuan by the leg.
“Our guests are watching, Master. You must preserve your dignity.”
“Release me. Did you not hear that boy insult me and my entire household?”
Crack—
Yang Wuyuan, who had been gauging the guests’ reactions, clenched his teeth.
Every instinct screamed at him to rip out the insolent bastard’s tongue, but he forced himself to hold back.
He couldn’t afford to lose face in front of all these guests.
“Perhaps if we dismissed the guests and spoke privately—”
“No. Enough.”
Yang Wuyuan shoved the Steward aside, his eyes flashing with killing intent as he locked them on Guan Hui.
“You want a martial match? Fine. I’ll take you on.”
“Master, wait—!”
The Steward’s face had gone ashen, but Yang Wuyuan waved him off.
“It’s settled. We wanted a match anyway, didn’t we?”
The plan had shifted slightly, but Yang Wuyuan didn’t much care.
The larger design remained unchanged—to crush this man right here in his own house.
“Not all masters are created equal, boy. Let me show you the gulf between a noble house like the Yang Family and your cheap, nameless clan.”

* * *
The guests stirred with anticipation, their eyes bright.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had something this entertaining.”
“Hah. The First Spear of Shanxi in a match—I’m looking forward to this.”
“Why don’t we place some wagers on it?”
“Excellent idea. I’ll bet he doesn’t last five exchanges.”
“I’ll wager he’s down in three. Once the First Spear goes all out, the man won’t survive two.”
“Then I’ll take one exchange.”
The match hadn’t even begun.
Yet the guests were already certain of Yang Wuyuan’s victory.
They remembered when the Cloud Valley Spear had held dominion over all of Shanxi Province.
His opponent, by contrast, was merely a Late-Stage Master—less experienced, less skilled.
So Yang Wuyuan’s victory seemed as inevitable as water flowing downhill.
“Frankly, the Guan Family Estate? I’ve never even heard of such a clan.”
“Descendants of Guan Yu? That’s laughable. When did that line go extinct?”
“Exactly. Those clanless dogs just pick up whatever surname suits them, don’t they?”
The guests, well-fed on Yang Family gold, didn’t merely predict Yang Wuyuan’s victory—they spared no insults for Guan Hui’s house.
And they did this knowing full well that Guan Hui could hear them from where he stood.
“Pay it no mind.”
Zhang Cheng’s brow furrowed as he watched the guests.
Trying to shake a man’s resolve with cheap words before the match had even started.
They may have learned no martial arts, but their conduct was no different from bandits.
“What? What did you say?”
Guan Hui, scratching at his ear, tilted his head with a puzzled expression.
In truth, he hadn’t been listening—he simply had no interest.
Guan Hui was a man who lent his ear only to what captured his attention.
“Haha. I admire your composure, truly. Master Guan.”
Charmed by that bold bearing, Zhang Cheng’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.
‘…Is this man insane?’
From Guan Hui’s perspective, none of it made sense—the man simply seemed mad.
“We face two opponents: Yang Wuyuan and his son, Yang Yunshang. Which would you prefer to take on, Master Guan?”
“The patriarch, obviously.”
“You’re confident? Yang Wuyuan stands on the threshold of Perfection Stage—a true master.”
For an instant, concern flickered across Zhang Cheng’s eyes.
An uncharacteristic hesitation for a man who usually counted his subordinates’ lives as nothing.
“So what? He’s approaching it. But he hasn’t reached it yet, has he?”
Guan Hui smiled with unhurried ease, settling his Crescent Blade across his shoulder.
That bold, swaggering confidence made Zhang Cheng’s own mouth curve into a smile.
“Very well, then. I’ll face the son. We crossed blades once at the banquet anyway—fortune smiles on us.”
At yesterday’s banquet, Zhang Cheng had exchanged one move with Yang Yunshang.
Of course, that was merely an excuse.
‘Truth be told, I have no confidence.’
Zhang Cheng harbored no illusions about defeating Yang Wuyuan, the First Spear of Shanxi.
The title wasn’t hollow—it was earned.
He stood at the threshold of that Perfection Stage that only the rarest few could reach, a master whose name was sung throughout both the martial courts and the Jianghu.
The master of the An Family Estate and his father, Zhang Baijing, was someone even he preferred to avoid.
True, Zhang Baijing now locked himself away in his manor, coveting only power, but everyone knew he’d once been an exceptional martial artist.
Honestly, Zhang Cheng felt grateful that Guan Hui had chosen Yang Wuyuan first for him.
‘Could it be he’s showing me consideration?’
The thought carried him to Guan Hui’s eyes, and Zhang Cheng met that gaze.
Eyes fathomless, their intent impossible to read.
Yet it was certain the man had shown him consideration.
He was a true man—the kind who would stake his own life for his subordinates.
“Thank you, Guan Hui,” Zhang Cheng said formally.
He cupped his fists in salute, then ascended onto the Training Grounds.
“……?”
Guan Hui, watching the other man’s retreating figure, turned to Zhu Hu with a puzzled expression.
“What was he thanking me for?”
“…….”
Zhu Hu, who had heard the entire exchange, let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Brother. Can’t you tell just by looking? He was thanking you for devising such a perfect plan.”
Zhu Hu puffed out his chest with pride.
The plan had worked—drawing up the stage themselves to shake the Yang Family’s master—and Zhu Hu was thoroughly pleased with himself.
“My plan was that impressive, clearly. Heh heh. Since he’s too embarrassed to tell me directly, he must have conveyed his gratitude to you instead.”
“…….”
Watching Zhu Hu laugh to himself like a fool, Guan Hui shook his head firmly.
“If that were true, I’d burn my hand in the brazier.”
“Huh? Brother. Come to think of it, shouldn’t you burn your hand in the brazier? Last time you definitely…….”
Crack!—
A hand-blade descended like lightning, striking Zhu Hu on the crown of his head.
“Ow!”
“I have no such memory. Neither do you.”
“That makes no sense…….”
Smack!—
“Agh!”
“You don’t remember?”
“N-no, brother!”
Zhu Hu’s face twisted in indignation.
But the hand-blade did not relent.
Smack-smack-crack!—
“I-I don’t remember! Damn it! I don’t remember a thing!”

* * *
Whoosh—
The Yang Family Steward slipped away from the Training Grounds and made his way covertly toward the back of the pavilion.
There, a Hao Wen member disguised as an old man waited with his back bent.
“Is it ready?”
“Yes. It’s here.”
The Hao Wen member withdrew a small wooden box from his robes and handed it over.
“Good work. Take this as your payment.”
The Steward produced a silver tael.
“Sir, you ought to pay more than that.”
“What? Didn’t you agree one tael would suffice?”
“Yes, sir. The poison costs one silver tael. But keeping one’s mouth shut—that costs two taels.”
“……Keeping quiet? What are you saying?”
“Aren’t you planning to use this poison on the Guan Family’s master?”
“……I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
The Steward replied with perfect composure despite having been struck squarely.
But Hao Wen was not the sort to be fooled by mere acting.
“If you won’t pay for my silence, hundreds of public notice posters will appear throughout Taiyuan tomorrow.”
“……!”
A threat to plaster hundreds of posters across all of Shanxi Province.
Had anyone else made such a threat, he would have scoffed at it as absurd. But the other party was Hao Wen.
If they were the organization with the most members throughout the Central Plains, they could manage it easily enough.
“Damned Hao Wen bastards.”
The Yang Family Steward’s frown deepened as he pressed two more silver taels into the messenger’s palm.
The expense had run three times what he’d anticipated, but there was no help for it.
This was the only way to weaken that Guan Family master—the one calling himself the patriarch.
Only then would Yang Wuyuan’s martial prowess truly shine.
“Hmm. The effect is guaranteed, I trust?”
“Rest assured, sir. This poison was crafted by a disciple of the Five Poisons Sect itself—a specialized Qi-Sealing Poison that renders even masters at the Perfection Stage unable to channel their Internal Energy.”
“How is it administered?”
“Simple enough, young master. Slip it into wine or tea, and no one will notice a thing.”
“There’ll be no trace? No taste or scent?”
“The Five Poisons Sect’s poisons are colorless and odorless, young master. Completely undetectable.”
At the Hao Wen member’s assurances, the Yang Family Steward’s rigid features softened almost imperceptibly.
“Good. Now go—and see that no one else lays eyes on you.”
“Yes, sir.”
With a respectful bow, the Hao Wen member descended and vanished among the shadows cast by the building’s eaves.
A long exhale.
The Yang Family Steward’s pupils trembled faintly as he stared at the wooden box containing the poison.
“I cannot fathom why it must come to this.”
He tucked the box into his robe and looked up at the sky, releasing a heavy sigh.
Why was the patriarch orchestrating something so dangerous, on such a scale?
Why resort to underhanded tactics instead of meeting his opponent with honor?
He could not comprehend it.
“What on earth could the patriarch be thinking……”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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