# Chapter 4:
Chen Lin's journey with Elder Yang Wei to the city of Long Qing took three full days. They traveled along rugged, winding paths, avoiding the main roads for fear of Prince Zhao's soldier patrols. During those days, the old man taught Lin the basics of Qi, emphasizing the importance of proper breathing and concentration.
"Qi is not just a force, Chen Lin," said the old man as they rested under the shade of a giant tree. "It is the essence of life itself. It flows through everything living, connecting humans with nature."
"And how can I use it to fight?" Lin asked impatiently. All he cared about was learning how to use this power for revenge.
The old man sighed. "Always in a hurry. Qi is not merely a tool for fighting. It's a way of life, of understanding, of connecting with the world around you."
"But you said you would teach me how to become strong," Lin protested. "Strong enough to take revenge on Prince Zhao."
"And I will," the old man assured him. "But true strength doesn't come from muscles or even from Qi alone. It comes from here," he pointed to Lin's head, "and from here," then he pointed to his heart.
Lin wasn't convinced, but he didn't argue. He knew he needed the old man and his wisdom if he wanted to truly become strong.
On the morning of the fourth day, they finally reached the outskirts of Long Qing city. The city was much larger than Lin had expected. High walls of gray stone surrounded it, with massive wooden gates inlaid with iron guarded by groups of armed soldiers.
"This is Long Qing city," said the old man. "The largest city in the Eastern Yang province, and an important trading center."
"How will we get in?" asked Lin, pointing to the guards. "Won't they be looking for us?"
The old man smiled. "They won't be looking for an old man and his grandson coming from the countryside to visit the city."
The old man took out two pieces of brown cloth from his bag and gave one to Lin. "Wear this over your clothes. We'll pretend to be farmers coming to sell our crops."
Lin put on the brown cloak, which covered his distinctive white hair. Then he followed the old man toward the eastern gate of the city.
As they approached the gate, Lin noticed the old man's tension despite his attempts to hide it. There was a long line of people waiting to enter, and the guards were searching everyone thoroughly.
"Security seems tight," Lin whispered.
"Prince Zhao is looking for us more seriously than I expected," the old man replied in a low voice. "Stay calm and let me do the talking."
When their turn came, a huge guard stepped toward them. "Names and purpose of visit?"
"My name is Li Chong," said the old man in a trembling voice, pretending to be weak and afraid. "And this is my grandson Li Hao. We've come to sell our crops at the market."
The guard looked at them suspiciously. "Which village are you from?"
"Hong Yang village," the old man answered without hesitation. "It's a small village three days from here."
"And what are you selling?"
"Medicinal herbs," said the old man, pointing to the bag he was carrying. "My wife is sick, and we need money to buy medicine."
The old man's story seemed to evoke the guard's sympathy. "Alright, you may pass. But remember, curfew begins at sunset. Anyone seen on the streets after that will be arrested."
"Thank you, kind guard," said the old man with feigned gratitude. "We'll be careful."
They passed through the gate and entered the city. The streets of Long Qing were crowded with people and carts, and noise filled the place. Street vendors calling out their wares, children running and playing, and horse-drawn carts struggling to make their way through the crowds.
"Where to now?" asked Lin, amazed by the size of the city and its bustle. He had never seen a place this size before.
"First, we need a place to stay," said the old man. "I know a small inn in the western district. The owner is an old friend, and we can trust him."
They walked through the winding streets of the city, heading toward the western district. Lin watched everything with curiosity, astonished by the diversity of people and goods. There were shops selling everything imaginable: colorful fabrics, polished weapons, aromatic spices, shining jewelry, and ancient books.
"Don't be too amazed," the old man warned him. "The city is full of thieves and con artists. Watch your bag and be careful who you talk to."
Lin laughed. "I was a thief myself, remember? I know their tricks."
"These aren't like the thieves in small villages, Chen Lin," the old man said seriously. "They're professionals, and some of them use Qi as well."
This caught Lin's attention. "Really? There are others who use Qi?"
"Of course. You're not the only one who knows these arts. In fact, in this city, there are entire schools that teach martial arts and Qi."
"Then why don't we join one of these schools?" Lin asked eagerly. "I'll learn faster."
The old man shook his head. "We can't risk it. These schools are under Prince Zhao's surveillance. If we join them, he'll know we're here."
They finally reached a small inn in a quiet side alley. A weathered wooden sign hung above the door, with "The Quiet Moon Inn" written on it.
They entered the inn to find a small reception room with a few wooden tables. There was a portly middle-aged man standing behind a counter, wiping glasses.
"Chang Lao!" the old man called out.
The portly man looked up, and for a moment, he seemed surprised. Then a smile spread across his face. "Yang Wei! What a surprise! I haven't seen you in years!"
He came toward them and embraced the old man warmly. "What brings you to Long Qing after all this time?"
"A long story, my friend," said the old man with a tired smile. "Can we talk in private?"
Chang Lao understood the hint. "Of course, of course. Come with me to the back."
He led them through a back door to a small room that looked like an office. He closed the door behind them and gestured for them to sit.
"Now, what's going on?" he asked seriously. "You're not the type to visit cities without a good reason."
The old man told him everything: the massacre of Chi Yang village, the search for the Book of Five Spirits, and how he rescued Lin and began training him.
Chang Lao listened attentively, his face changing from surprise to concern. "This is very dangerous, Yang Wei. Prince Zhao is not someone to be trifled with. He's cruel and merciless."
"I know that," said the old man. "But we have no other choice. We must find the book before he does."
Chang Lao sighed. "Well, you can stay here as long as you need. I have a room on the upper floor that no one uses."
"Thank you, my friend," said the old man gratefully. "We'll compensate you for your kindness."
Chang Lao shook his head. "No need for that. You saved my life once, remember? This is the least I can do."
He turned to Lin, examining him with curiosity. "So you're the white-haired boy the prophecy speaks of?"
Lin felt uncomfortable. "I don't believe in prophecies. I just want revenge on Prince Zhao for what he did to my village and family."
Chang Lao laughed. "An ambitious young man! I like that. But revenge is a dangerous path, my young friend. You might lose yourself in the quest for it."
"I've already lost everything," Lin said bitterly. "I have nothing left to lose."
The old man and Chang Lao exchanged concerned looks, but they didn't comment.
"Well," Chang Lao finally said, changing the subject. "Let me show you to your room. Then you can rest and bathe. You'll feel better after a hot meal and a good night's sleep."
He led them to the upper floor, where there was a small but clean room with two beds, a small table, and a window overlooking the street.
"It's not luxurious, but it will serve the purpose," said Chang Lao.
"It's perfect," the old man assured him. "Thank you again."
After Chang Lao left, Lin sat on the bed, sighing with relief. The last few days had been physically and emotionally exhausting.
"What's our plan now?" he asked the old man.
"We'll stay here for a few days, rest and gather information," replied the old man. "Chang Lao has many connections in the city. He might help us find information about the temple."
"And what about my training?"
"We'll continue your training here, but carefully. We don't want to attract attention."
Lin looked out the window at the busy streets of the city. He felt alien and alone amidst all this bustle. He thought of his quiet village, of his parents, of Mei. All of that was gone now, burned in Prince Zhao's fires.
"I will become strong," he promised himself silently. "Strong enough to take what I want, and to destroy those who destroyed me."
He didn't know that this promise would lead him down a path darker than he could imagine.