"Apprenticeship, huh..." Wu Jiaoniang and Yang Qi exchanged glances, their expressions turning a little weird. The leader of the Alliance Against Evil was sending his daughter to be under the thumb of Jade Hawk Johnson, and on top of that, she had to "serve at his side." This wasn't just a sheep entering a tiger's den—it was like tossing your daughter into a bottomless pit! If George Kwok figured out what was really going on, he might just beat his chest, roll on the floor three times, and then have nowhere to put his old, embarrassed face.
But that thought hadn't crossed George Kwok's mind. He just felt that having Grace Kwok apprentice under Yang Qi was a solid choice. Wu Zhenfeng's seniority was way too high—she couldn't even dream of apprenticing to him. As for Yang Qi, he was thick-skinned enough to count as a peer, so it barely made sense. So letting Grace Kwok apprentice to Yang Qi was actually pretty reasonable.
But when he saw the look exchanged between Wu Zhenfeng and Yang Qi, he thought they were hesitating, and suddenly realized his own suggestion might be a bit off.
In the martial world, taking apprentices is all about fate—and a win-win situation.
Masters need disciples. If a talented student joins, the school grows stronger. Take Yue Buqun, for example—he wanted to revive the Huashan Sect, so he opened the doors wide to recruit from all over. Sometimes, martial arts schools and dojos would fight tooth and nail, even getting bloody, just to win over a gifted disciple.
Likewise, disciples need masters. George Kwok is the perfect example. At first, with the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan teaching him, his martial arts were hopeless. Then he met Ma Yu, and his skills shot up. Later, with guidance from Master Hung, Uncle Zhou, and Master Yat Lamp, he finally transformed and soared. Sometimes George Kwok thought, even if he wasn’t George Kwok—maybe if he were John Kwok or Mike Kwok—if he got the chance to learn from those legendary masters, his achievements would be just as impressive. His teachers really did him a huge favor, so he always respected them deeply.
Sects and disciples follow a similar supply-and-demand market logic. Whoever holds the advantage gets to pick and choose.
Now, the Freewind Sect—whether it’s the legendary tales passed down from the Beggar Clan elders or what people saw today—is undeniably top-tier. If this were a cultivation novel, it’d be the kind of super sect where even the main character has to crawl through a thousand trials and battle in endless tournaments just to become an outer disciple.
His own daughter, Grace, was pretty talented—even Master Golden Wheel was tempted to recruit her—but she wasn’t exactly a once-in-a-generation prodigy. Just waltzing in and asking to learn their skills, especially the ones that keep you young forever and are basically magical, really doesn’t fit the rules of the martial world.
All these thoughts flashed through George Kwok’s mind in an instant. He quickly came up with a plan and said, “Seniors, Miss Yang, if Master Freewind hadn’t generously taught me, I wouldn’t have today’s Dragon Subduing Palms. Such a huge favor—I can’t possibly repay it. So I’m willing to gift the Nine Yin Secret Manual to your sect. Your sect already has countless divine skills, so this might be a bit redundant, but it’s a token of my gratitude—please accept it with a smile.”
"Father-in-law!" "Dad!" Kevin Kee and Grace Kwok both gasped softly. The Nine Yin Secret Manual was a huge deal—so many storms had been stirred up over this legendary skill. Today, just so his second daughter could apprentice, George Kwok was willing to offer up such a priceless treasure. Grace was deeply moved. Her usually strict father suddenly made her eyes misty. Only now did she realize her parents’ hair was all white—they weren’t the heroic figures she remembered from childhood anymore.
Wu Zhenfeng and Yang Qi nodded to each other, and Yang Qi spoke up: "Since you’ve put it like that, I’ll be honest with Mr. Kwok and Mrs. Wong. Our sect has always liked little Grace, and we’ve long wanted to bring her in. We came today intending to talk about this. I understand your intentions, Mr. Kwok. Honestly, the Nine Yin Secret Manual is famous across the land, and we’d love to study it—but agreeing to take her as a disciple isn’t about the manual. Grace is worth far more than that."
Once Yang Qi got down to business, the prim-and-proper lady act went out the window. But whenever she got serious, she naturally radiated the aura of a general—her words were upright and strong, her eyes bright and unwavering, full of righteous energy. George Kwok, a straight-shooter used to the military, found her directness and gaze very much to his liking.
He immediately clapped his hands and said, "Great! Then I’ll leave my second daughter in your capable hands, Seniors and Miss Yang! Come on, Grace, bow, serve tea, and apprentice!"
"Yes, sir!" Grace Kwok jumped up, absolutely thrilled to join the Freewind Sect—she wanted this more than anything.
Helen Wong immediately had people tidy up the place. With everyone watching, Grace Kwok bowed respectfully. Thud—her forehead hit the ground. That was it, she was officially accepted. Traditionally, you’re supposed to bow three times and nine times to heaven, earth, sovereign, parents, and teachers, but Grace only managed one before Yang Qi pulled her up: "Alright, that’s enough for ceremony. No need to kneel ever again. We don’t do that here."
After a pause, Yang Qi turned away from the crowd, gave Grace Kwok a sly smile, and added, "Of course, if you ever tick me off... well, heh heh heh..."
"Uh..." Grace Kwok’s hair stood on end at that smile. Was apprenticing to this person really a good idea? What if she got pranked to death? For the sake of her own survival, Grace immediately put on her most serious face and pledged her loyalty: "Don’t worry, Master, I would never go against you..."
"Whoa, whoa, ‘Master’ sounds way too old. I hate it. Makes me feel ancient." Yang Qi gave Grace’s head another pat, this time much gentler: "Just call me ‘Sis’ from now on. You’re my maid now, Little Peach."
Grace Kwok, like a cat getting her head rubbed, blushed and looked down shyly, mumbling, "Okay, Sis Yang!"
With the master-disciple relationship officially set, both sides were now practically family—the atmosphere warmed up for real. George Kwok insisted on giving a formal apprenticeship gift, but Yang Qi waved it off, saying she didn’t really care. If he absolutely had to give something, anything small would do.
This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, please click next page to continue reading!
Helen Wong called Yang Qi "sis," so Yang Qi responded with "big bro" and "sister-in-law." The lady act was back in full force—her etiquette flawless. Kevin Kee and the younger generation came forward to greet the elders again. Even if Phoebe Kwok was annoyed, she had to hold her nose and call them "senior." Paul Kwok looked a little glum as he greeted the elders, clearly not thrilled about being lumped in with the juniors. Phoebe found this hilarious and finally cheered up by teasing her little brother.
The lively feast wrapped up in a burst of laughter. Throughout, Yang Qi carefully maintained her lady disguise, pulling back from the brink several times—she just barely kept it together. After the banquet, the younger crowd headed outside to mingle. Martial artists can’t meet without sparring, so they all clamored for a match. Hannah Frost was way past the age for showing off and politely declined, but Phoebe Phoenix, fiery as ever, grabbed a bunch of sisters to teach those kids some manners.
The main group moved to a quiet spot in the backyard to talk. They settled into a pavilion under the moonlight—pretty nice scenery, honestly.
Truthfully, Yang Qi really didn’t want to keep chatting. She could practically feel her Lady’s Masquerade disguise losing durability with every word—who knew when it might shatter? But there was one question she had to ask, so she gritted her teeth and kept going.
"Old Kwok... cough, I mean, Brother Kwok, Sister Wong..." Ugh, calling people "brother" is so not my style—makes my skin crawl! But I have to tough it out for the cause. Hang in there, Lady Yang: "Earlier, we visited the Tomb of the Living Dead on Mount Zenith. We didn’t find the Divine Eagle Hero and his wife, but we did run into, uh... Bobby Tong..."
Is Bobby Tong a senior? A peer? A junior? Damn, honorifics are a pain—makes it impossible to talk straight!
Lady Yang glitched for a second, then decided to just ignore the whole thing: "He said Master Yideng is in Xiangyang right now. To be honest, one big reason we came here was to find Master Yideng. The Dali Duan family has old ties with our Freewind Sect and even preserved two of our sect’s martial arts. We want to find the Duan clan and reclaim our skills, so we need to meet Master Yideng. Any idea where he is now?"
By the end, Lady Yang couldn’t be bothered with honorifics and even skipped the "Master" bit.
But as soon as the topic came up, George Kwok and Helen Wong didn’t notice the lack of honorifics—their faces suddenly grew somber. Something was definitely wrong.
Yang Qi was taken aback. What’s up with the gloom? Wait—don’t tell me Master Yideng kicked the bucket! No way, his cultivation’s on par with George Kwok’s—he should have a good ten years left in him. He can’t have gone to meet Buddha already, right?
Helen Wong replied, "Since you asked, I’ll be honest. Master Yideng did arrive in Xiangyang a few days ago, but something urgent came up and he left in a hurry three days back."
He left again? Why is it so hard to find an old monk? Wu Zhenfeng frowned. "Urgent business?"
Helen Wong glanced at Grace Kwok, hesitated, then explained, "An old friend was gravely injured—a matter of life and death. That person’s done a lot for the country and the world. Master Yideng couldn’t let him die young, so he took him away from Xiangyang to seek a cure. Honestly, when we heard Freewind Sect experts had arrived, my husband and I were overjoyed—we’ve heard your sect’s healing skills are miraculous. We were hoping you could help, so..."
"Wait—hold on, Mom!" Grace Kwok’s eyes widened as she slowly stood up, staring at Helen Wong in disbelief, searching her mother’s face for any sign she was wrong. But she was disappointed; both her parents’ expressions spelled disaster. Grace’s voice trembled, her face desperate: "Dad, Mom, the person who’s gravely injured—is it..."
Helen Wong stayed silent, but George Kwok let out a long sigh. He’d been exhausted lately, and this was a big part of it. Suddenly, he swung his palm—the air roared, Dragon Subduing Palms. The blast sent flowers and trees outside the pavilion shaking and tumbling. As the plants fell, a sword was revealed beneath them.
The sword was huge—long, wide, and thick, at least 1.7 meters including the hilt. Its black blade had no edge but was incredibly heavy. It stood there, unmoving, like a silent master. Majestic, yet utterly alone.
Helen Wong whispered, "This is a gift from your Brother Yang."
Grace Kwok was stunned, staring at the Obsidian Claymore as tears welled up in her eyes. Years ago, when she met Gabriel Yang, the Divine Eagle Hero had already mastered his skills and no longer carried the heavy sword, so she’d never seen it before. But the legend of the Obsidian Claymore was inseparable from the Divine Eagle Hero—mention his name, and everyone thought of that sword.