I maxed out the Scholar talent at the start, but I want to be a Warrior.

The next morning, Gu Chang'an took Gu Cheng to say goodbye to Shen Pei.

Their old house has always been taken care of by an old servant.

When the two found Shen Pei, he was practicing boxing in the yard.

After listening, he stopped and wiped his hands.

"Go."

Just two words.

There were no further questions, and no attempts to persuade him to stay.

Gu Chang'an nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, Ah Da."

The steward, Ah Da, walked over from the corridor, carrying a cloth bag in his hand, and handed it to Gu Cheng.

"Living in Shuofang City is not easy, and expenses are high. Keep these silver coins safe for now. If Cheng'er needs money when he goes to school, don't be shy about asking."

Gu Cheng took the cloth bag and said to Shen Pei, "Thank you, Grandpa."

Shen Pei nodded and waved his hand, "Go."

As they reached the front gate, Madam Zhou chased after them.

She grabbed Gu Cheng's hand and stuffed two oil paper packets into his arms.

"Osmanthus cake, your mother's favorite food when she was a child."

Gu Cheng was taken aback.

Zhou patted the back of his hand.

"Come back for dinner when you have time."

Gu Cheng nodded: "Okay."

The uncle and nephew left the Shen family's gate and walked west along the alley.

The further we go, the further we stray from the right path.

The bustling main street has become a narrow alley, the bluestone slabs have become dirt roads, and the restaurants and fabric shops on both sides have become low-rise residential buildings.

The walls still bear the marks of war—charred door frames, windows temporarily nailed shut with wooden planks, and plaster that had been burned and then repaired.

Occasionally one or two people would walk through the alley, mostly elderly people and children; young faces were rarely seen.

"This used to be a place where military officers lived," Gu Chang'an said. "When I was a child, your father and I often ran in this alley, and there were many other people with us back then."

Gu Cheng nodded and slowed his pace.

He noticed that after walking for a while, an old man selling wontons at the alley entrance looked up and glanced at them.

Her gaze lingered on Gu Chang'an's white hair for a moment, her lips moved, but she said nothing.

He lowered his head and continued wrapping wontons.

There is an old wooden door at the end of the alley.

The door was wider than the other houses in the alley, and traces of the original carvings could still be seen on the lintel, though over the years, the wind and rain had worn them down to just a faint outline.

Most of the paint on the door has peeled off, revealing the gray wood underneath. There's a dent in the middle of the threshold—who knows how many years and how many people have walked on it.

But the door was wiped very clean.

The door wasn't locked.

Gu Chang'an reached out and pushed open the door.

A house with two courtyards.

The front yard is not large, but it is well-organized—there are three main rooms, two rooms each in the east and west wings, and another row of rooms in the back yard through the passageway.

The yard was kept meticulously tidy.

There wasn't a single fallen leaf on the ground, the weeds in the corner of the wall had been pulled clean, and the lanterns under the eaves, though old, were polished to a shine.

Someone has been taking care of it.

In the middle of the courtyard, an old man was practicing horse stance.

His right leg was slightly turned outward, and his posture was a bit strange, possibly due to an old leg injury.

His upper body remained motionless, his hands gripping a long spear with the tip pointing forward.

prick.

Close.

Stab again.

The movements were not fast, but every shot was steady, accurate, and solid.

The spear tip sliced ​​through the air, without any unnecessary frills, just pure battlefield killing moves.

Gu Cheng stopped in his tracks.

Gu Chang'an also stopped.

The old man holstered his gun and turned around.

The moment he saw Gu Chang'an, the gun in his hand fell to the ground.

"...Chang'an?"

His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken to anyone in a long time.

Gu Chang'an stood at the door, looking at the old man.

"Uncle Fu, we're back."

The old man walked over quickly—his right leg was slightly lame, but he walked very fast.

He paused for a moment when he saw Gu Chang'an's white hair.

His lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

A long time passed.

"It's good that you're back."

Then his gaze fell on Gu Cheng.

stunned.

The old man's lips trembled slightly. He took a step forward and stretched out his hand—

It shrank back again.

"Little...Little Makoto?"

Gu Cheng didn't dodge, but he didn't know what to say.

In the original owner's memories, the old man was both blurry and clear—the face was blurry, but the rough hands were clear, the feeling of them being placed on his forehead when he had a fever as a child.

"You've grown taller." Uncle Fu's voice was a little hoarse. "You were only this tall before."

He gestured with his hand to indicate his waist.

"You were only five years old then, and you had a high fever that lasted for three days and three nights. I carried you on my back and ran halfway through the city to find a doctor..."

As he spoke, his voice lowered.

Gu Cheng scanned it with his probe.

[Name: Gu Afu] [Constitution: 58 (Max) / 46 (Current)] [Strength: 59 (Max) / 52 (Current)] [Spirit: 30 (Max) / 28 (Current)] [Warrior Skill: Thrust (Tier 1)] [Scholar Skill: None] [Preferred Weapon: Spear (Elite)] [Equipment Items: None]

The three of them sat in the courtyard, and Uncle Fu served them tea.

Gu Chang'an was talking to Uncle Fu, while Gu Cheng listened from the side.

"How's your leg?"

"Same as always, it hurts on cloudy days." Uncle Fu rubbed his right knee. "It's nothing serious."

"Uncle Fu, you've worked so hard all these years."

Uncle Fu shook his head.

"It's not hard work or anything, as long as you come back, that's all that matters."

The courtyard was quiet.

Gu Cheng sat down next to him.

Uncle Fu glanced at him.

"Like Changping."

Uncle Fu took them to see the old house.

The main house, the side rooms, and the backyard—everywhere is well maintained, yet every place bears the marks of time.

The tables and chairs are old, but they are polished to a shine; the courtyard wall has cracks, but they are repaired neatly; the roof tiles have been replaced several times, and the old and new tiles are different colors, but they are arranged meticulously.

ten years.

A person, guarding an empty house, keeps every corner spotless.

When Gu Chang'an reached the innermost room, he stopped.

He pushed open the door.

The room wasn't big; it contained a bed, a desk, and a bookshelf.

The bed was neatly made, and two calligraphy brushes were still on the pen rack on the desk—the nibs were dry, but their positions remained unchanged.

A long spear was hanging on the wall.

A row of military books on the bookshelf was covered with a thin layer of dust.

Gu Cheng followed him inside and picked up a book.

I flipped through it.

It is a military treatise.

There were annotations in the margins, the handwriting was very neat, but in some places the ink had blurred—as if it had been flipped through many times.

These must be notes that Gu Chang'an kept when he was young.

Gu Cheng put the book back in its place and didn't touch it again.

That afternoon, Gu Cheng practiced shooting in the courtyard.

The pear blossom spear twirled half a circle in my hand, then I thrust it forward—

"My wrists are too stiff."

The sound came from the side.

Uncle Fu had moved a chair to the porch at some point and was sitting there, holding a teacup, watching him.

Gu Cheng stopped.

"How long have you been practicing your marksmanship?" Uncle Fu asked.

"More than two months."

"This..." Uncle Fu's teacup trembled as he looked at Gu Cheng in surprise.

"The Gu family has a successor! I never expected Xiao Cheng to have such a high talent for marksmanship."

He steadied himself and continued.

"When you thrust your spear out, the force dissipated. It wasn't that you lacked strength, but that your waist didn't rotate with it."

Gu Cheng tried it out, and with a twist of his waist, the force at the tip of the spear was indeed concentrated.

"Also, your shoulder moves before you draw your gun." Uncle Fu gestured. "The moment your shoulder moves, the opponent knows where you're going to stab. Don't raise your shoulder first when you draw your gun. The power comes from your waist; as your waist rotates, your shoulder naturally follows. Right now, your shoulder moves first, before your waist even moves—you've got it backwards."

Gu Cheng tried again.

When the spear tip went out this time, his shoulder barely moved.

Uncle Fu didn't say anything more and turned to do his work.

That night, Gu Cheng lay in his room.

He closed his eyes.

Next month, the academy.