Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

The next morning, Second Uncle Cang Yuanzhi, leaning on his cane, slowly made his way into the Cang family's courtyard.

He silently placed an old canvas bag on the table. Untying the rope, he found several neatly bundled stacks of banknotes of varying denominations inside.

"Take it." Cang Yuanzhi's voice was hoarse and low, yet carried a rock-solid steadiness. "This is the pension I've saved over the years, and a little bit of money your second aunt and I have saved for our coffins. Your cousin Liu Qing has a good job in Yanjing and doesn't need our money at all. Over the years, I've been able to support the two of us with my carpentry skills."

Looking at the pile of money, and then at his second uncle's empty trouser legs and calloused hands, Cang Lifeng felt a lump in his throat. This dignified seven-foot-tall man almost burst into tears.

He knew that his second uncle had a hard life too. That broken leg had reduced the once powerful man to someone who could only sit on a specially made high stool and carve small items to earn a meager income. He usually saved his pension for emergencies.

He said, his voice choked with emotion, "Second Uncle... this... how can this be? You've helped us so much over the years, this is your guarantee, how can I bear to..."

"Take it!" Cang Yuanzhi slammed his cane down, his gaze burning like a torch in the dark. "Life is more precious than money, and relationships are more important than anything else. We'll swallow this insult for now, but we'll remember this debt. When you become successful in the future, don't forget those who helped you today, and don't forget those who trampled on you today either."

This money, like rain after a long drought, brought hope. It temporarily quelled the parents' anger, but Cang Lifeng knew that his path back home was completely blocked. Liu Tietou's shadow was omnipresent, Wang Zhenkun's sinister smile seemed etched in every gaze fixed on his family, and the villagers' indifference and fear were like solid ice, isolating the Cang family from the outside world. He knew that if he stayed here, his roots would rot. He had to leave.

Before leaving, Cang Lifeng's biggest worry was Tianci. This younger brother possessed extraordinary resilience and a fierce determination that erupted in dire straits; he was a rough gem that should not be buried in this treacherous mire. He decided to take Tianci to Nancheng to see if he could get into the Nancheng Children's Sports School's martial arts team, giving his brother a future.

On a misty morning, the two brothers boarded a bus bound for the southern part of the city. The bus bumped along the potholed dirt road, and the dust it kicked up blurred the view outside the windows.

Cang Tianci stood close to his elder brother, gazing out the window at the increasingly unfamiliar fields and hills rushing past, his eyes filled with curiosity about the unknown. This was the first time in his life that he had truly left Xiqiao Village, leaving behind the land that had permeated all the hardships and glimmers of light of his childhood.

The bus arrived at the bustling long-distance bus station in the south of the city with a dull hum. The station was teeming with people and vehicles. Cang Lifeng held Tianci's hand tightly and hurried through the crowd.

Just as they stepped out of the station exit, a tall, thin man was furtively approaching a young woman dragging a suitcase. Cang Lifeng stepped forward and shoved him, his shoulder subtly pushing against the pickpocket, causing him to stumble. The wallet the pickpocket had snatched fell to the ground with a "thud."

Enraged, he called over several accomplices to surround them. Cang Lifeng pulled Tianci and the girl behind him, and with a few side kicks, hooks, and grappling moves, he knocked the four thugs to the ground. The surrounding passengers applauded.

The girl was extremely grateful and thanked him repeatedly. Cang Lifeng waved his hand, said "It's nothing," and then pulled Tianci to leave. The girl caught up, took out a notebook from her bag, tore off a piece of paper, quickly wrote her name and phone number on it, and handed it to him with both hands. Cang Lifeng glanced at it, nodded, stuffed it into his pocket, and quickly disappeared into the crowd with Tianci.

He quickly forgot about the little incident at the train station. Now, he had only one thing on his mind: his younger brother's future.

Before they knew it, they had arrived at the martial arts training hall of Nancheng Sports School.

The training hall was spacious and bright, with wooden floors, a red carpet, and several faded banners and certificates hanging on the walls. All the equipment was polished to a gleaming shine. A group of children, about the same age as Tianci, were training under the coach's commands. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and their shouts were deafening. These children were all well-proportioned and athletic, with handsome faces. All of this filled Tianci, who came from a poor, remote village, with a strong sense of longing and a hint of barely perceptible inferiority.

Coach Zhang Jingsong, in his forties, was lean and sharp-eyed. After listening to Cang Lifeng's brief introduction of his brother's situation, his scrutinizing gaze fell upon Tianci.

"Try it out a couple of times," Coach Zhang said.

Tianci took a deep breath, walked to the center of the arena, and performed a set of Southern Fist that he was most familiar with and that best demonstrated his power and ferocity. His movements were fierce and powerful, his eyes were focused, and his indomitable "ruthlessness" was vividly displayed through the wind from his punches.

However, after finishing the routine, Zhang Jingsong frowned slightly. He walked to Tianci's side, gestured for him to stand up straight, and then carefully pinched the joints of Tianci's shoulders, arms, and legs, and measured his arm span, leg length, and the proportions of his upper and lower body.

Then, Coach Zhang gestured for Cang Lifeng to speak to the side. His voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the brothers' hearts like an ice pick:

"Lifeng, I can see that your brother's basic skills are very solid; he's definitely worked hard. Moreover, there's something in his eyes—a tenacity, a fierce determination—that's rare among martial artists. But…" He paused, a hint of regret in his voice, "His skeletal structure… his natural advantages aren't ideal. In competitive martial arts, his ceiling is too low. Provincial and national teams prioritize physical talent when selecting athletes. He'll likely struggle to go far. Making a living in this field will be very tough, and it's almost predictable that he won't achieve great success."

Although Tianci was a little far away, the words that drifted into his ears intermittently, such as "the skeleton is not good enough," "it is difficult to achieve great things," and "the ceiling is too low," were like red-hot irons, burning his heart hard.

He instinctively reached out and grabbed something at his side. He didn't even know what he was grabbing.

But at that moment, he suddenly remembered the invisible thread at the temple fair. That day, when that thread was tautest, he dodged a blow. From then on, he always felt that the thread was still there, just loose, and that as long as he worked hard enough, he could one day tighten it again.

But now, he's found nothing.

He looked down at his hands. There was nothing in his palms. That thread... it seemed he really couldn't find it.

He felt a blast of ice water poured over his head, instantly extinguishing all the light and passion he had felt in the training hall. He stood frozen, head bowed, biting his lip hard. He didn't know if the line could still be reconnected, or if it would ever taut again. The sounds of the entire world seemed to fade into the distance.

Cang Lifeng's heart sank into an abyss. He understood Coach Zhang's professional judgment, but it undoubtedly shattered his hopes placed on his younger brother and dealt another heavy blow to his search for a way out. He forced a smile, his throat dry as he thanked Coach Zhang, and, pulling Tianci, who seemed to have lost his soul, silently walked out of the sports school gate.

Standing outside the sports school gates, the afternoon sun in Nancheng was blinding, but it couldn't penetrate the gloom in the brothers' hearts. Cang Lifeng looked at his younger brother's dejected appearance, a strong sense of resentment and responsibility welling up inside him. He couldn't take his brother back like this; he couldn't let him face their parents with such despair. But Nancheng had already rejected them; where else could they go? For the first time, he felt so powerless—more powerless than when he was surrounded by Liu Tietou's men at the temple fair. Back then, at least he could rely on his fists, but now fists were useless. He looked down at his hands; those hands had knocked down four pickpockets that morning, but now they couldn't grasp anything.

Suddenly, he remembered something Master Zhou had said: "Lifeng, remember this: some doors in this world can't be opened with your fists. If you can't open them with your fists, you have to learn to go around them."

In a flash, a figure appeared in his mind—Zhou Zhenhua, his senior from the Nancheng Martial Arts School, who was always full of energy and said he wanted to go back to his hometown and make a name for himself. Although they hadn't seen each other for many years, he'd heard that Zhou Zhenhua was now at the Jixian Sports School…

This thought was like a glimmer of light in the darkness; though faint, it pointed the way. He didn't know how far it would shine, but it was the only thing he could grasp at that moment.

"Let's go, Tianci, let's go back to Jixian and find my senior brother Zhou Zhenhua," Cang Lifeng said, gripping his younger brother's hand tightly.

Tianci didn't speak. He lowered his head and followed his older brother. When they reached the street corner, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the tightly closed gate of the sports school.

He clenched his fist. There was nothing in his palm. Was the invisible thread still there? He didn't know; could that man named Zhou Zhenhua be the one who could reconnect that thread for him? He didn't know either.

Cang Lifeng also stopped and glanced back at the door. He didn't say anything, but simply gripped his younger brother's hand even tighter.

Then, the two of them walked forward together.