A Scroll of Infinite Glory

Guan Luoyang is twenty-four years old this year.

He originally lived in the 21st century, but six years ago, while jogging in the morning, he suddenly traveled to the late Qing Dynasty.

When he awoke from his dream, he had already traversed more than a hundred years.

This is an era of surging waves and impending doom, but also an era of brilliant stars and rising sun.

The tidal wave that has shaken the world, though it has not yet truly revealed its fangs and climbed to its darkest period, is already quite magnificent in its undercurrents.

Unfortunately, Guan Luoyang didn't know much, and he didn't accomplish much in the past six years.

To be precise, the things he did in those six years fell into only two categories.

The first category is forging.

………………

Several miles outside the city, in the desolate countryside, a stream flows gently, and three mud-brick houses and two thatched huts stand there.

The outermost room is the woodshed, with dried firewood inside and tree trunks and branches drying or not yet chopped outside.

A machete is nailed diagonally to a wooden stump, reflecting the setting sun.

From time to time, the barking of dogs could be heard coming from the house next to the woodshed.

Guan Luoyang, dressed in a blue cloth outfit and with short hair that reached his ears, sat inside this room.

Inside the house, a row of wooden stakes was driven in, and a dog was tied to each of the seven stakes.

These dogs had large frames, almost as tall as calves, but they were all very thin, with drooping fur, large eyes, and an unusually fierce appearance.

Dogs in the countryside are actually quite afraid of people. If a person acts fiercely or bends down to pick up a stone, the dog will cower and run away.

But these days, people die everywhere—by the roadside, in mass graves—some even still alive, just thrown hastily into a pit.

These stray dogs survive by eating people, and sometimes they even dare to pounce on passersby, gnawing on their warm blood and flesh.

The seven stray dogs were leashed, and each was allowed to come within half a foot of Guan Luoyang.

The stench of the stray dogs, their irritating barks, their yellowed, gleaming fangs, and their bloodshot eyes were right in front of me.

A group of hungry, vicious dogs attacking together could tear a living person apart.

Even if you know you won't get bitten, when such a wild beast pounces on you, most people will instinctively try to dodge or lean back.

Moreover, compared to the deafening barking and frantic thrashing of the dogs, the wooden stakes meant for safety seemed utterly unstable, constantly swaying.

Guan Luoyang simply sat quietly, his eyelids drooping, only glancing at the vicious dogs with a sliver of his eye, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.

After an unknown amount of time, Tian Gongyu, carrying a bamboo stick, entered the room and stood behind Guan Luoyang.

After standing there for about fifteen minutes, he said, "Today's training is over."

Guan Luoyang responded and lifted his eyelids, but his body remained still.

Sure enough, Tian Gongyu asked again, "Since I came in, how many times has the first dog on your right jumped on you?"

Guan Luoyang answered without hesitation, "Seven times."

"How many times did the third dog on the left lunge?"

"twice."

How many times did the seven dogs bark in total?

Guan Luoyang hesitated for less than a second: "One hundred and thirteen times."

Tian Gongyu then asked, "How many times did I tap the bamboo cane?"

Guan Luoyang: "Four times."

Tian Gongyu nodded: "Your concentration and hearing have been trained quite well."

"Since you entered this room today, how many times have I brandished my knife in the woodshed?"

"Hmm?" Guan Luoyang thought for a moment, "Sixty-nine times."

Tian Gongyu said, "You're wrong. I chopped the wood 69 times, but I also chopped a fly, so I swung the knife 70 times."

"You mean that counts?"

Guan Luoyang finally stood up and turned to look at the old man he had known for six years.

Tian Gongyu was a head shorter than Guan Luoyang and looked to be in his fifties. His beard and hair were all white, but he was in good spirits, with a steady posture and an upright back.

In recent years, the Qing Dynasty has become increasingly powerless to control the people. Not to mention the "money-tail" hairstyle, there are many young people who have adopted the Western style of short hair.

Tian Gongyu's hair, which he had shaved before, had grown back. Too lazy to take care of it, he simply waited until it reached a certain length and then braided it together with his old braid.

He has a low hairline, a full forehead, and his hair is pulled back tightly, with a long braid coiled around his neck, which makes him look even more capable.

"How can it not count? Even if you couldn't hear the wind from my extra slash, you should have noticed that annoying fly disappeared."

Although Tian Gongyu said that Guan Luoyang had made a mistake, he still smiled and praised, "Practicing martial arts without training your internal skills will lead to nothing in old age; training your internal skills without training your courage will lead to certain death in battle."

You've spent six years practicing to this level; you're practically a master now. Thinking back to six years ago, a single dog would scare you into hiding; the difference is like night and day.

Guan Luoyang glanced at the stray dogs and shook his head, saying, "After all, I've seen human blood more than once. If I'm still afraid of dogs, that's really unreasonable."

"but……"

Guan Luoyang suddenly laughed, stepped forward, put his arm around the old man's shoulder, and said, "Where did this saying about 'graduating from a master' come from? Didn't you forbid me from calling you 'Master' and only allow me to call you Uncle Tian?

Tian Gongyu held his bamboo cane horizontally, separating him: "You have no manners. If we were in a proper master-disciple relationship, your behavior just now would warrant me punishing you by making you eat half a bowl of rice less today."

"Alright, alright, I can already smell the food. Let's go eat quickly, I still have work to do tonight."

Guan Luoyang and the old man walked out the door and closed it behind them.

On the dining table, there was a large bowl of stewed meat, a plate of green vegetables, and a dish of scrambled eggs.

Although the seasonings were simple, Tian Gongyu's cooking skills were excellent, and Guan Luoyang, who expended a lot of energy practicing martial arts every day, ate with great relish.

Tian Gongyu ate only two bowls of rice, then put down his chopsticks, poured half a bowl of hot water, sipped it, and asked, "Where are you going for your job tonight?"

Guan Luoyang swallowed a mouthful of rice, with some green vegetables still on his chopsticks: "It's due west from here, seventeen miles outside the mountains and forests, on the east street of Diancheng."

Tian Gongyu glanced at the sky outside the door. The sun had already set, and the light was gradually dimming. "Tonight, the moonlight probably won't be very bright. It won't be easy to walk into the woods in the dark."

Guan Luoyang replied vaguely, "It's a dark and windy night, perfect for a fight. I should be back by noon tomorrow at the latest. Your back isn't feeling too good either, so keep the firewood; I'll take it to town this afternoon."

Tian Gongyu stared at him for a while: "Delivering firewood to Manager Wang's inn earns you money every time. But you don't get paid for that job. Don't you get tired of it?"

"No amount of money can buy my happiness."

Guan Luoyang put down the empty bowl, smiled, and got up to clean up the dishes and chopsticks.

Tian Gongyu finished the water in the bowl in one gulp. While Guan Luoyang went to wash the dishes, he got up to get the kerosene lamp, lit it, and placed it on the corner of the table.

After fetching water from the stream and washing the dishes, Guan Luoyang boiled water for the old man to wash his face and soak his feet.

After everyone finished their work, Tian Gongyu went to sleep. Guan Luoyang turned around, went to his room to change his clothes, took a knife and a mask, went to the main room, and extinguished the kerosene lamp.

The room darkened, and the two doors were closed.

Guan Luoyang walked towards the mountains and forests, and looked up at the scenery.

Sparse starlight hung in the darkness of the night; there was indeed no moon yet.

After crossing the stream, he put on the dark green mask.

In these six years, apart from the daily routines of eating, drinking, defecating, and sleeping, Guan Luoyang did only two kinds of things.

The first category is martial arts training.

The second category is murder.