Chapter 85: Progress Across Three Worlds and a Newcomer — Ancient-Robed Chu Yang
"You haven't seriously gone mad from research, have you?"
Shanks shot him an exasperated look.
"Captain, I want to save that fish-man," Chu Yang said solemnly.
"Mr. Tom? Why—" Shanks stopped halfway, then suddenly realized. "Right… I forgot you were saved by the Fish-Men."
"Mr. Tom? You know him too…" Chu Yang had his own moment of realization. "He built the Pirate King's ship. It'd be strange if you didn't know him."
Shanks nodded.
At that moment, Benn Beckman appeared, slinging an arm around Chu Yang's shoulder and lowering his voice. "We actually knew about this a long time ago. But the captain figured Mr. Tom could finish the Sea Train, so we didn't interfere."
Shanks sighed. "If Chu Yang weren't about to leave for a while, I wouldn't have chosen this time to refit the Red Force in Water Seven. I planned to privately celebrate with Mr. Tom after the completion… I never expected things to turn out like this."
Chu Yang looked at Tom, battered and bloodied. "Do we save him now?"
Shanks shook his head. "Not yet. The reason I haven't acted so far is because I'm worried his disciples will get dragged into this."
Chu Yang scanned the area. He didn't see Franky anywhere.
The only person in sight was Spandam, wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
Clearly, he'd already been beaten senseless by Franky.
Beckman chuckled. "Don't rush it. We'll handle it once we're out at sea. There are plenty of Marine warships watching us—we can't make a move here."
Chu Yang nodded.
Tom was escorted onto the Sea Train he had personally built—the Puffing Tom.
Spandam, the true culprit, was also carried aboard by his subordinates.
The Red Hair Pirates' crew members returned to the ship one after another, preparing to depart.
The patrolling warships reacted a beat too late. By the time the Red Force followed the Puffing Tom out of Water Seven, the Marines finally realized what was happening.
Multiple forces advanced simultaneously toward Enies Lobby.
The news quickly reached Marine Headquarters. Sengoku, still an admiral at the time, took the call—and his expression immediately changed.
Without wasting a second, Sengoku gathered a group of vice admirals and rear admirals and rushed toward Enies Lobby by warship.
They believed the Red Hair Pirates' target was Enies Lobby itself.
Meanwhile, the Red Force steadily closed in on the Puffing Tom. Spandam, aboard the train, sensed something was wrong.
"Damn it—those pirates are coming for us!"
"Red-Hair?!"
"Why is he sticking his nose into this mess?!"
Spandam was terrified.
Aside from Edward Newgate, Kaido, and Charlotte Linlin, Shanks was already recognized as the strongest pirate beneath the Emperors.
How could Spandam not be afraid when such a monster had his eyes on him?
Aboard the Red Force
"How do we stop the Sea Train?"
"If we use brute force, Mr. Tom could get hurt!"
"If it comes down to it, we'll have to destroy the tracks!"
"But those tracks were built by Mr. Tom himself—wouldn't he be furious if they were damaged?"
The crew argued back and forth, debating how to rescue Tom.
Shanks rubbed his temples, a headache coming on.
The Marine warships were closing in. If they waited any longer, it would be too late to act.
Just then, Chu Yang spotted a teenage boy standing far ahead on the tracks.
He knew he couldn't delay anymore.
"I've got a way," Chu Yang said, hopping onto the railing. He crouched and looked back. "The Marines are yours."
Shanks reached out instinctively. "What are you—"
Before he could finish, Chu Yang was already gone.
Gone—flying.
Using Earth Release: Ultra-Light Boulder Technique.
Shanks froze.
So did Beckman—and the rest of the crew.
"Captain… I think I'm seasick. I just saw Yang flying."
"Shanks, me too. And he's flying pretty fast."
"Captain—ugh—I'm really seasick…"
Without warning, Marine warships opened fire. Cannon blasts rocked the Red Force, tossing the deck like a seesaw.
Shanks snapped out of it and immediately began issuing orders, directing the crew to return fire and cover Chu Yang.
Chu Yang streaked above the Sea Train and dropped straight into the engine room, kicking the driver into the sea before slamming on the brakes.
The high-speed Sea Train nearly derailed. After skidding forward for a short distance, it finally ground to a halt.
Ahead of it, the teenage boy stood with lifeless eyes, arms spread wide, blocking the train.
There was barely an arm's length between him and the train's front.
Elsewhere, Chu Yang exited the engine room and was immediately met by an ambush. Marines from Enies Lobby—and CP agents—opened fire together.
Facing a mob of fodder, Chu Yang raised his arm and summoned thick wooden pillars.
One sweeping strike later, the carriage was spotless.
In the corner, Spandam was shaking uncontrollably.
Damn it…Why didn't he kick me out with the others earlier?!
Chu Yang walked up to Spandam and grabbed the bandages wrapped around his wounds.
Spandam screamed in agony.
Chu Yang released a burst of Conqueror's Haki, knocking him unconscious, then tossed him out of the carriage.
Killing someone like that would only dirty his hands. Feeding him to the sea was better—good for ecological balance.
Environmental protection mattered.
In the second carriage, Chu Yang finally found Tom, slumped in the corner, covered in blood, his breathing shallow.
Chu Yang rushed forward and poured a massive amount of life force into Tom's body.
A stunned Franky snapped back to his senses and charged into the carriage, just in time to see Chu Yang healing Tom.
Tears welled up in Franky's eyes.
Chu Yang ignored him, focusing entirely on Tom.
When Franky cautiously approached to check Tom's condition, Chu Yang suddenly stood and kicked him away.
Franky spat out a mouthful of blood, flew off the train, and plunged into the sea, crimson spreading across the water.
At this age, Franky couldn't be tied to the Red Hair Pirates.
Once they left, he would be the first to suffer retaliation.
Chu Yang understood that—and that was why he'd kicked him so brutally.
With Tom's breathing stabilizing, Chu Yang carried him off the Sea Train.
Marine bombardment intensified.
But the newly refitted Red Force didn't flinch, answering with equally dense fire.
Both sides exercised restraint—no close-quarters battle broke out.
Still, the Marine formation was tightening, threatening an encirclement.
At that moment, Chu Yang returned to the ship with Tom in his arms.
Shanks stood at the bow and roared, "Raise sails! Full speed ahead!"
The late-arriving Sengoku could only watch as the Red Force broke through the Marine lines and vanished into the open sea.
In truth, he felt a wave of relief.
Only he had remained behind at Marineford. If a full-scale battle had broken out at Water Seven, the Marines' headquarters would have been dangerously exposed.
Sengoku had borne enormous pressure coming here—thankfully, Shanks had no interest in Enies Lobby.
"By the way… why did Red-Hair stir up such a huge mess?" Sengoku asked on the return trip.
A rear admiral replied, "We've confirmed that the Red Hair Pirates rescued the shipwright Tom, who was scheduled for execution."
Sengoku thought for a moment. "The Tom who built the Oro Jackson, the world's greatest shipwright?"
"Yes, Admiral Sengoku."
"Then it makes sense," Sengoku exhaled. "Red-Hair was once on Roger's ship. This was likely repayment."
The rear admiral asked in shock, "Red-Hair Shanks was a crewman of the Pirate King?"
"You didn't know?" Sengoku scanned the stunned faces around him.
"Admiral, you really shouldn't drop information like that out of nowhere," Kuzan, then a vice admiral, said helplessly from the railing. "You're just like Vice Admiral Garp."
"Don't compare me to that old fool!" Sengoku snapped. "The New World is in chaos, and he runs back to the East Blue—who knows what he's doing!"
"Not sure," Kuzan shrugged. "But Garp said the next time he sees Red-Hair, he'll kill him."
"Looks like those two have a serious grudge."
That very night, Tom woke up.
After learning he was aboard the Red Force, he fell silent for a long time.
"If I go back now, everyone connected to you in Water Seven will be punished by the World Government," Chu Yang warned. "Worst-case scenario—death sentences across the board."
Tom sighed deeply. "Why save me? You must have another purpose."
Shanks smiled. "Our only purpose was to repay your kindness. Without the Oro Jackson you built, Captain Roger could never have fulfilled his dream—or become the Pirate King."
Tom jerked his head up, staring at Shanks in disbelief.
"I was once an apprentice on Roger's ship," Shanks said, scratching his head.
Only then did Tom remember—back then, Roger's ship had carried two kids. One of them… had red hair.
After a long conversation, Shanks invited Tom to that night's feast.
Nothing was more worth celebrating than successfully saving a companion's life.
At least—that was how the Red Hair Pirates saw it.
The dining hall, now four to five times larger, transformed into a banquet hall, blazing with light all night.
Pirates sang and danced, their cups never empty.
Tom gradually joined the crowd. Before long, he was drunk—and by the next morning, he accepted that he had become a member of the crew.
Chu Yang returned to his research.
Perhaps because his spirits were high, progress in bloodline factor research was astonishingly smooth.
Five days later—
Chu Yang successfully extracted a bloodline factor sample imbued with Wood Release.
...
Naruto World
After many days of training in Shikkotsu Forest, Chu Yang successfully grasped Sage Mode, though he still couldn't enter it instantaneously the way Hashirama Senju could.
Instantly entering Sage Mode was never easy.
Even Jiraiya, who would later become one of the Legendary Sannin, was unable to do it.
It required balancing three kinds of energy within the body:
Physical energy, spiritual energy, and natural energy.
Chakra itself was the product of physical and spiritual energy reaching equilibrium. To add natural energy into the mix meant breaking an already stable balance.
And inertia was terrifying.
Especially when the body had long since grown accustomed to producing chakra—by that point, the process had already become instinct.
That was the fundamental reason why Sage Mode was so difficult to cultivate.
When one's concentration was extremely focused, entering Sage Mode wasn't particularly hard.
The real challenge was maintaining Sage Mode while moving—let alone fighting.
On the very first day of training in Shikkotsu Forest, Chu Yang had already manifested the distinctive Sage markings on his face.
It took him three days to move freely in that state.
Five days to fight normally.
At such a pace, even the Slug Sage considered him unprecedented in history—but Chu Yang was still dissatisfied.
If he couldn't guarantee entering Sage Mode at any moment during battle, then it was meaningless.
Because of that, Chu Yang specifically went to consult Hashirama.
Hashirama: "So you do this… then this… and finally like this."
Chu Yang: "???"
Hashirama gestured animatedly as he spoke, using words that sounded both familiar and completely foreign to Chu Yang.
He clearly felt he was explaining things in great detail—vividly, even.
Right up until Chu Yang stared at him with a blank expression.
"Tobirama's always said I'm not cut out to be a teacher…" Hashirama scratched his head and laughed awkwardly. "I think actual combat will help you understand better."
Chu Yang let out a long sigh.
So this was basically code for getting beaten up.
But if it meant entering Sage Mode faster, he had no choice but to agree.
During the sparring, aside from Sage Mode itself, no other ninjutsu or senjutsu was allowed—which meant Hashirama couldn't use Wood Release, his greatest advantage.
Purely in taijutsu, the gap between Chu Yang and Hashirama wasn't actually that enormous anymore.
The problem was that Hashirama gave Chu Yang no opportunity to enter Sage Mode during combat. From the very start, he kept Chu Yang completely suppressed.
A Hashirama in Sage Mode versus a Chu Yang without it—restricted to taijutsu alone—the outcome was obvious.
Chu Yang was beaten senseless.
Forget entering Sage Mode—he was barely able to defend himself at all.
Most of the time, he was nothing more than a human-shaped punching bag.
They fought from morning until dusk.
Chu Yang ended up swollen all over.
Hashirama, looking refreshed and energized, said cheerfully, "It's been a long time since I've fought this freely. Last time was against Madara. After becoming Hokage, I hardly get any chances to really move. Sometimes I actually envy Madara—at least he still gets to fight tailed beasts."
"So? After fighting this long, did you get any sense of it?"
Bruised and battered, Chu Yang looked up at Hashirama with a resentful expression."Do I look like someone who's gotten the hang of it?"
Hashirama stared intently at him and asked solemnly, "And you are… who, exactly?"
Chu Yang sighed deeply. "Sensei, that joke really isn't funny."
"Is that so? Hahahaha." Hashirama scratched his head and laughed to himself.
Hashirama's teaching style was simple and brutal.
But it was extremely effective. It pushed Chu Yang's potential to the absolute limit.
After being beaten for three days and three nights, Chu Yang finally mastered the technique of instantly entering Sage Mode during combat.
Harry Potter World
After fully mastering the three Unforgivable Curses, Chu Yang resumed his research into spellcraft.
As for wand-making, it was temporarily put on hold.
His skill in wand crafting had already reached an exceptionally high level—he had even derived a substitute formula for wand cores. Still, he couldn't find a stable alternative core that could be reliably used by his counterparts in other worlds.
So Chu Yang decided to shift his focus and learn the secrets of wandless magic, either from Filius Flitwick or Albus Dumbledore.
Wands were, after all, a European invention.
Before the British wizard Isolt Sayre founded Ilvermorny, Native American wizards commonly used wandless magic. African wizards, too, didn't widely adopt wands until the twentieth century.
Strictly speaking, wands were not a necessity for spellcasting.
Wandless magic was extremely difficult—far harder than O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams.
The invention of the wand lowered the threshold for spellcasting, making magic more controllable and reliable. It was one of the key reasons European wizards had historically outpaced those of other regions.
Wands and wandless magic were like internal combustion engines and steam engines.
The latter had been left behind by history.
For most wizards, abandoning a wand in favor of wandless casting was as incomprehensible as a modern person giving up high-speed rail to ride a steam train.
Even someone as powerful as Dumbledore would never use wandless magic in real combat.
But for Chu Yang, compared to the high learning threshold and inherent drawbacks of wandless magic, the ability for his counterparts in other worlds to use magic at all was far more important.
As for the disadvantages of wandless casting—those could be slowly overcome using knowledge from multiple worlds. He wasn't worried about that in the slightest.
Recently, Headmaster Dumbledore had been extremely busy.
Ever since the information about Voldemort's seven Horcruxes was passed along, he was rarely seen at Hogwarts.
Harry's mood had noticeably darkened, though thankfully Ron and Hermione stayed close by his side.
With Dumbledore absent from the school, Chu Yang had no choice but to ask Professor Flitwick to teach him the techniques of wandless magic.
As the champion of the dueling tournament, Professor Flitwick's spellcasting ability was second only to Dumbledore's within Hogwarts.
Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were also skilled in wandless magic, but it wasn't their specialty—neither could explain it as thoroughly as Flitwick.
After class, instead of heading to the Great Hall with the other students, Chu Yang went alone to the eighth floor. Passing the Room of Requirement, he continued down the corridor toward an office near the West Tower.
He raised his hand and knocked.
"Come in,"Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice answered.
Chu Yang pushed the door open and saw Flitwick brewing coffee.
"Care for a cup?" Flitwick asked with a smile. He genuinely liked students like Chu Yang who came to him after class.
Whenever they discussed magic, Chu Yang's boundless imagination often gave him tremendous inspiration.
"No, thank you, Professor," Chu Yang said politely. "I'm here to ask you about something."
Chu Yang sat down on the sofa with practiced ease.
"Did you run into a spell you couldn't quite understand?"Professor Flitwick asked curiously as he carried over a freshly brewed cup of coffee and sat across from him.
"Not a spell," Chu Yang smiled. "I want to learn the techniques of wandless magic from you."
"Wandless magic?" Professor Flitwick froze for a moment, then frowned. "Why would you want to learn that? Wandless casting is inefficient and extremely difficult—like stone tools used by primitive humans…"
From his tone, it was clear that Flitwick looked down on wandless magic. Like most wizards, he believed it to be outdated and inferior.
Seeing the topic drifting off course, Chu Yang quickly interrupted, "I've been studying magical history recently. I'm very curious about the early days of wizardry—how European wizards cast spells before wands were invented."
"Oh!"Professor Flitwick suddenly understood and smiled knowingly. "I used to be just like you—curious about everything in the magical world."
"Since you want to learn wandless magic, I must first explain the relationship between magic power, wands, and spells."
"Think of a person's magic power as water in a large barrel. The magic required to cast a spell is like the water in a small bottle."
"To pour water accurately from the large barrel into the small bottle, you need a funnel. Spells act as that funnel, regulating the flow of magic."
"Even if you pour a bit too much, the funnel helps adjust it so the water doesn't overflow."
"But without a wand, it's like pouring directly from the barrel into the bottle with no funnel at all. If you apply too much force, overflowing is the least of your problems—sometimes the bottle is knocked over entirely."
"At that point, the spell fails. In severe cases, magical backlash occurs, which is extremely dangerous for a wizard."
At this point, Professor Flitwick's expression grew solemn."Yang, you should have read about the consequences of magical power going out of control."
"And wandless casting tends to make loss of control even worse. Magic rampages inside the body like a balloon being inflated without limit. I don't need to explain how that ends, do I?"
Chu Yang immediately nodded. "I understand, Professor Flitwick."
"Good."Flitwick's smile returned as he continued instructing Chu Yang on the essentials of wandless magic.
"Without a wand, the body itself takes on the wand's role. Without a regulating tool, you must rely on mental strength to precisely control magical output."
"Mental strength is the natural bottleneck of wandless magic. Without sufficient mental discipline, you simply cannot accurately pour water from the large barrel into the small bottle."
"As a person ages and practices meditation, their mental strength grows stronger. That's why Headmaster Dumbledore appears to perform wandless magic so effortlessly."
Professor Flitwick spoke at length, laying out the key principles of wandless magic one by one.
That very night, Chu Yang slipped out of the school and headed into the Forbidden Forest to practice wandless magic.
The process was anything but easy.
If an average person's magic could fill a single barrel, then Chu Yang's magic could practically fill the entire Black Lake.
Such an overwhelming amount of magic made control extremely difficult. He couldn't do what Flitwick described—carefully pouring into a small bottle.
If he dumped that entire lake all at once, forget bottles—barrels, tanks, reservoirs, all of them would be blown apart.
So Chu Yang had to begin by training fine control over his magic.
His advantage lay in his knowledge from other worlds.
He tried borrowing chakra-control training methods from the Naruto World to hone his magical precision.
...
"Waiter, bring wine!"
"Coming right up!"
A waiter dressed in coarse linen cheerfully carried out a large jar of Qiubailu wine from the back courtyard. Following the voice, he walked to a window-side table, poured a cup for the guest, and left the jar there.
"Mr. Chu, please wait a moment. The dishes will be ready shortly."
"Alright, thank you."
"Haha, Mr. Chu is always so polite."
The waiter's face glowed with pride. A learned man like Mr. Chu thanking him was no small honor.
He wanted to chat a bit more, but a shout came from elsewhere.
"Waiter!"
With a helpless sigh, he smiled apologetically at Chu Yang and went off to serve another table.
Chu Yang nodded in return. As a former modern man, saying "thank you" was simply a habit.
After nearly a year in this world, Chu Yang had grown accustomed to his role as a village teacher. His speech and manners had changed dramatically from when he first arrived.
As a proper university graduate, teaching a group of children was more than manageable. He did quite well—well enough to earn a modest reputation not just in town, but across the surrounding villages.
Yet professional success did nothing to soothe the dryness growing in his heart.
Ancient entertainment was tragically scarce.
No television. No movies. No computers. Nothing at all.
Aside from listening to performances at pleasure houses, there was practically nothing to do.
But going to those places every day—his body might endure it, but his wallet certainly wouldn't.
A teacher's salary ensured food and clothing, but it couldn't save all those girls living in misery.
Chu Yang felt deeply regretful.
So listening to storytellers at taverns became one of his few remaining hobbies.
The dishes had just been set on the table. Chu Yang had barely taken a sip of wine when—
Bang!
In the center of the hall, a storyteller past his forties slapped his wooden clapper onto the table.
"Last time, we spoke of how Zhao Kuangyin and Zhao Guangyi, brothers and founders of the Song dynasty, turned against each other, splitting the great Song Empire into Northern and Southern Song!"
"Heh heh heh…"
Chu Yang couldn't help laughing.
Everyone in the tavern turned to look at him, but the storyteller was long used to this.
Every time it reached this point, that eccentric Mr. Chu would laugh—with a hint of mockery, no less.
Seeing all eyes on him, Chu Yang stood and clasped his hands apologetically to the crowd, finally calming them down.
The storyteller cleared his throat and continued,"With the Song dynasty divided, the greatest sect under heaven—the Beggars' Sect—also split into the Northern and Southern Beggars' Sects."
"The Northern Sect's leader Qiao Feng and the Southern Sect's leader Hong Qigong were both peerless heroes. Seven days ago, they agreed to duel at Yanmen Pass to determine supremacy!"
"At first, the two clashed using the Beggars' Sect's supreme techniques. Their Dragon-Subduing Palms shared the same origin, evenly matched. Dragon roars echoed across Yanmen Pass, and the shockwaves shattered towering trees a hundred paces away!"
"Midway through the duel, Liao troops invaded Yanmen Pass. The two leaders relied on the natural defenses of the pass and held off the army alone for an entire day!"
"Qiao, being younger and stronger, lasted three hours longer than Elder Hong, until border troops and Beggars' Sect disciples finally arrived."
"Seeing the situation was hopeless, the Liao army retreated in panic, leaving corpses everywhere…"
As the storyteller finished, cheers erupted throughout the tavern.
"Well done! Kill them all!"
"Both leaders are heroes of unmatched valor!"
"Slaughter those Khitan dogs!"
"Waiter! Another jar of strong liquor to celebrate!"
The successful defense against foreign invaders filled everyone with joy.
Everyone was laughing.
Chu Yang was laughing too.
Traveling through worlds was one thing—but this kind of travel was absurd!
Zhao Kuangyin and Zhao Guangyi turning against each other?Qiao Feng fighting Hong Qigong?
"What are you laughing so hard for, Brother Chu?"A little beggar suddenly appeared from nowhere, plopping down across from Chu Yang and casually grabbing food with his chopsticks."If you keep laughing like that, people will really think you're crazy."
"Xiao Huang," Chu Yang shot back, "when Guan Yu fights Qin Qiong, isn't that funny?"
"Didn't I tell you not to call me Xiao Huang? Only dogs are named Xiao Huang!"The little beggar bared his teeth at Chu Yang angrily, then frowned. "Besides, Lord Guan and Duke Qin weren't even from the same dynasty—how could they possibly fight each other?"
"Brother Chu Yang, your brain is getting worse and worse!"
"Tsk, forget it. Your brain was never very good to begin with. What kind of normal person treats beggars to meals every day?"
Chu Yang smacked his lips. "I didn't treat you. You sat down and started eating on your own."
"Oh?"The little beggar chuckled slyly. "Then why do you always prepare two sets of bowls and chopsticks when you eat alone?"
Chu Yang suddenly turned sorrowful, clutching his chest as he said with heartfelt grief, "When I was little, my family had a yellow dog. We grew up together—I treated it like a brother. Every time I ate, I'd prepare bowls and chopsticks for it too…"
"After it left home, that habit just… stayed."
The little beggar froze, then asked instinctively, "Left home? Where did it go?"
Chu Yang answered with a grin, "To beg for food."
The little beggar immediately realized he was being mocked. His grimy little face flushed with anger as he jumped up, about to hit Chu Yang.
"Relax…"Chu Yang quickly raised a hand to block him. "I know you're in a hurry, but don't be in a hurry yet. Why are you taking it personally?"
"You're saying weird things I don't even understand again!"The little beggar cried out coquettishly—almost like a girl—but didn't actually strike him. Instead, he glared with eyes as clear as a lake.
"Why are you doing that—"Chu Yang broke out in goosebumps, gagging as he leaned against the railing. He turned back and complained, "If I'd known you were like this, I wouldn't have pitied you back then."
A trace of amusement flashed through the little beggar's eyes, though he put on a pitiful expression and lowered his head self-deprecatingly."Brother Chu Yang… will you look down on me? I was born different from normal men. Even the things I like are different…"
Chu Yang scratched his head awkwardly. He'd meant it as a joke, but hadn't expected Xiao—no, Huang—to take it so hard.
Thinking about it, even in his original era, orientation was a sensitive topic. In ancient times, being different only meant greater pressure.
Seeing the little beggar's reddened eyes, Chu Yang felt a sudden pang of pity and could only comfort him."I was just joking earlier. I don't discriminate against you at all. Really."
The little beggar still looked on the verge of tears, droplets trembling at the corners of his eyes.
Left with no choice, Chu Yang leaned close to his ear.
The sudden closeness made the little beggar's cheeks flush crimson. He was about to pull away when he heard Chu Yang's voice.
"I'll sing you a song. Don't be mad after you hear it, alright?"
The little beggar had wanted to retreat.
But Chu Yang's soft singing stopped him.
Chu Yang's voice was ordinary—not particularly pleasant—barely on pitch at best.Yet the straightforward lyrics and touching melody soon drew the little beggar in.
The little beggar had been musically gifted since childhood. He could count on his fingers the number of people in the world who surpassed him.
And yet, this was the first time he'd heard a song in this style.
Direct.And deeply moving.
The longer he listened, the more astonishing it felt.
To help the little beggar understand, Chu Yang removed the English parts of the lyrics, replacing them with humming. Soon, he reached the chorus.
"Which rose has no thorns?"
The emotionally charged line struck the little beggar's heart again and again.
The way he looked at Chu Yang changed—there was surprise, admiration.
In his eyes, scholars were all rigid and pedantic.
But the man before him was different from every scholar he'd met since running away from home.
Somehow… he resembled his father.
Someone with his own moral compass, unconventional, regarded by the world as a heretic.
Thinking of his father—thinking of the days since he'd left home—the grievance in the little beggar's heart finally overflowed. Tears slipped down without warning.
This time, he truly wanted to cry.
Chu Yang sang the chorus only once before stopping. Too many people around them were staring.
"What did that man even say to make a beggar cry like that?"
"Must've whispered something vicious in his ear. Disgusting."
"Huh? Isn't that Mr. Chu? The teacher who does children's enlightenment classes?"
"That really looks like him…"
"Degeneracy of the times!"
Cold sweat poured down Chu Yang's forehead as he whispered, "Huang… uh, how about this—if you stop crying, I'll call you Brother Huang, and you can call me Xiao Chu."
The little beggar broke into a smile through his tears. "Deal! You have to call me Brother Huang from now on!"
"Alright, alright."Chu Yang nodded repeatedly, then asked before leaving, "Are you full? If you are, let's hurry and go."
The little beggar scoffed. "If it weren't for your sake, I wouldn't even bother eating here. The food is terrible. I don't know why you come every day…"
"Stop bragging."Chu Yang rolled his eyes, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him outside—the crowd inside the tavern was growing larger by the moment.
For some reason, the little beggar kept his head down the whole way, unusually obedient, like a cat being held by the scruff of its neck.
"Hey, Brother Huang. I don't discriminate against you, but could you stop acting like this? You're scaring me."
After leaving the tavern and walking a bit farther, Chu Yang looked at the shy little beggar beside him and abruptly let go, his scalp tingling.
The little beggar burst out laughing.
Seeing how happy he was, Chu Yang shook his head.
He pulled out a cloth bundle from his chest—dried rations he'd bought earlier—and handed it over."Take these back and share them with your companions."
The little beggar said softly, "The first time I met you, you were already giving food to beggars. And not just once."
"In this world, very few people care whether people like us live or die."
Chu Yang let out a long sigh, his face filled with helplessness.
As someone raised under the red flag and nurtured by spring winds, a successor of communism, he found it hard to turn a blind eye—whether in his original world or here.
"Xiao Chu," the little beggar said, "even though your brain isn't very good, you're kind-hearted. Other than occasionally eating at taverns, you give almost all your money away."
Chu Yang coughed violently, feeling a bit guilty.
He had given away quite a lot.
Just… not only to beggars.There were also the young ladies in the pleasure quarters.
Sigh…Listening to music in those places truly corrupted the soul.
Perhaps driven by guilt, Chu Yang hurried home as soon as he handed over the rations.
The little beggar's pure gaze was too piercing…
The next day.
Amid the loud, rhythmic chanting of the pupils, Chu Yang announced dismissal. The courtyard instantly descended into chaos—chickens flying, dogs jumping, dust billowing like an advancing army.
Chu Yang nodded in satisfaction.
The flowers of the motherland were robust indeed.
Very good.
"Each of you—three more sets of homework when you get home."
The little demons froze, staring at him in disbelief. When the teacher nodded solemnly, their faces fell as if attending a funeral.
Three sets of homework!
Some children with weaker mental fortitude immediately burst into tears.
Seeing this, Chu Yang felt even more satisfied.
After school, with nothing to do, Chu Yang planned to go check on Brother Huang at the Earth God Temple in the east of the city—
—then go listen to music. Ahem.
But halfway there, the road ahead was blocked by a group of people whose hairstyles looked straight out of a "burial-love clan."
The leader had three large lumps on his forehead, each the size of a jujube.
Chu Yang's scalp tingled just looking at them.
"Brother," Chu Yang said with concern, "your folliculitis looks pretty serious…"
The man with the three lumps stared coldly past Chu Yang—at someone behind him.
Chu Yang followed his gaze and turned around.
Behind him stood a young man in a fur coat, leading a reddish-brown horse loaded with bags, his face screaming nouveau riche.
The youth grinned foolishly.
Good lord—someone flaunting wealth like this in broad daylight? If you don't rob him, who would you rob?
The lump-headed man's gaze was vicious. These two clearly had a feud.
Chu Yang quietly stepped aside and smiled."You two settle your grudges. Don't mind me."
The man roared, "It was this brat who ruined our plan! Take him down!"
The enemies surged forward. The young man dropped his luggage and prepared to fight, even turning to Chu Yang to apologize, "Sorry for dragging you into this, brother."
Hey—who's your brother? Don't go claiming relatives!
Chu Yang hurriedly said to the red-clad delinquents, "I don't know him. You must be mistaken—"
Before he could finish, a steel blade flashed past his head. Chu Yang instinctively hunched, his topknot severed.
Strands of hair fell before his eyes.
In that instant of terror, rage surged. Chu Yang looked up and cursed, "Fuck your mother—"
The blade fell again.
This time, it wouldn't just cut his hair.
Chu Yang stared at the edge. Everything in his vision slowed, as if frozen.
His consciousness drifted away.
When he came back to himself, he was standing inside a grand, mysterious palace.
A circle of people surrounded him, all looking at him with curiosity.
Chu Yang looked at them—he'd never met them before, yet felt an inexplicable familiarity.
After a long moment, someone finally spoke.
"Yo—this time it's actually ancient costume!"
(End of Chapter)