Chapter 58: True Skill Appears Clumsy

Chapter 058: Great Skill Appears Clumsy

“What did you say?” Wei Yan suddenly turned his head, glaring fiercely at Wei Ba with such hostility that it seemed if Wei Ba said another word, he might just split him in two. Startled, Wei Ba was momentarily stunned, thinking to himself, Could Father really be so prideful that he’d rather protect his own face than accept such a golden opportunity?

Even Zhao Guang began to feel uneasy. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped forward with a respectful gesture and said, “General, I was too hasty and failed to make myself clear. My father doesn’t insist on taking Brother Wei as his disciple; he merely wishes to meet him and exchange some pointers in martial arts.”

“No!” Wei Yan’s eyes widened as he swung his arm, startling Zhao Guang so much that he instinctively took a step back. Wei Yan’s face reddened as he shouted, “He must! As long as Old General Zhao is willing to accept my son as his disciple, even if he never teaches him a single technique and only allows his name to be listed among his students, I, Wei Yan, am more than willing!”

Both Wei Ba and Zhao Guang were struck dumb, confused by Wei Yan’s words and his menacing demeanor.

“You fool, what good fortune do you have to be favored by Old General Zhao?” Wei Yan slapped Wei Ba’s shoulder with such force it nearly sent him to the ground, leaving one side of his body numb. Yet, in this moment, joy surged through him and he barely noticed that he was unsteady on his feet. To be accepted as Zhao Yun’s disciple—having grown up listening to tales of Zhao Zilong’s legendary feats at Changban—was more thrilling than a pauper winning the heart of a rich beauty, especially when the beauty pursued him instead.

Not excited? Only a fool wouldn’t be.

While Wei Ba was still reeling, Wei Yan was already plotting. “Old General Zhao is a man of virtue and won’t care for gifts, but if we don’t present something significant, how can we show proper gratitude for his favor? Ah, what would make a fitting gift?”

Zhao Guang was at a loss whether to laugh or cry. He quickly said, “General, you flatter us. My father has no ulterior motive; he simply sees promise in Brother Wei and wishes to—”

“I know, I know. Who doesn’t know the kind of man Old General Zhao is?” Wei Yan shot him a glare, then remembering that he was glaring at Zhao Yun’s own son, swiftly changed his expression to a smile. Yet he shifted so quickly that Zhao Guang was left at a loss. “Zhongde, I know Old General Zhao is above caring for such formalities, but for me, this is a grand occasion. If I’m not careful, won’t it seem disrespectful to him? How about this, you go back—or no, I’ll go myself to seek Old General Zhao’s approval. Maybe we can hold a formal ceremony, have the Prime Minister officiate as the intermediary…”

A dark line appeared on Zhao Guang’s forehead. This was getting out of hand—Wei Yan even wanted to invite the Prime Minister to preside. Was he afraid his father wouldn’t teach his son sincerely?

“General Wei, isn’t that a bit too extravagant…”

“It must be! This is a great event for the Wei family, more important than a wedding. It cannot be taken lightly,” Wei Yan said, whether to Zhao Guang or himself, laughing heartily at his own delight, leaving both Wei Ba and Zhao Guang exchanging uneasy glances.

Under Zhao Guang’s persistent persuasion, Wei Yan finally gave up the idea of a grand ceremony and inviting Prime Minister Zhuge as the intermediary. Still, he prepared a generous gift and personally led Wei Ba to Zhao Yun’s camp to pay their respects. If not for fear of offending the Prime Minister, he would have gladly offered the set of armor gifted by the Prime Minister himself as a token for Zhao Yun. His enthusiasm embarrassed Zhao Guang and even made Wei Ba uneasy, worried that Wei Feng might be displeased.

Wei Feng, however, was overjoyed. Oblivious to Wei Ba’s anxiety, he walked with a broad smile, carrying the gift himself at the head of the group. Along the way, regardless of acquaintance, he would eagerly announce to everyone he met, “My younger brother Wei Ba is about to become Old General Zhao’s disciple!” Leaving the recipients bewildered, only realizing after a long pause that congratulations were in order.

Wei Ba felt a warm glow in his heart, knowing he was being overly sensitive. Perhaps Madam Zhang, the matron, made distinctions between legitimate and illegitimate sons, but Wei Feng never treated him as anything other than a true brother.

Before the Wei family reached Zhao Yun’s camp, news had already spread throughout the barracks that Zhao Yun was to accept Wei Ba as a disciple. Zhao Yun himself was informed and came out to greet them, catching Wei Yan just as he was about to bow and saying with a wry smile, “Wenchang, aren’t you making too much of this?”

Wei Yan shook his head vigorously. “General Zhao, what are you saying? For you to favor my son Wei Ba is not only his good fortune, but mine as well. I’m not good with words and don’t often visit, but my respect for you is unwavering. Even the Late Emperor, whenever he spoke of you, had nothing but praise.”

Zhao Yun quickly interrupted, seeing that Wei Yan was genuinely delighted—so much so that he was rambling. He took Wei Yan by the arm, leading him inside as he quietly asked, “Did you inform the Prime Minister before coming to my camp?”

Wei Yan froze, smacking his forehead. “I forgot!”

Zhao Yun waved it off. “Sit for now. I’ve just sent Zhao Guang to inform the Prime Minister. Hopefully, it’s not too late.”

Wei Yan blushed deeply, awkwardly standing there. In his excitement, he had neglected this important propriety. Though it wasn’t a breach of regulations for generals to visit privately, it still wasn’t ideal.

Standing behind his father, Wei Ba looked at Zhao Yun—now in his seventies, his hair and beard white, yet his back straight and his bearing calm. Listening to Zhao Yun’s unhurried yet meticulous arrangements, Wei Ba couldn’t help but admire him. Regardless of his official rank or achievements, Zhao Yun’s demeanor alone set him apart. He was like a bar of pure iron, all its sharpness tempered away—a master entering the realm where the heavy sword has no edge.

Just as Wei Ba was about to follow them inside, Peng Xiaoyu tugged at his sleeve, stepped in front of him, and straightened his collar, whispering, “Young Master, remember: great skill appears clumsy. Be sincere. Whatever you do, don’t try to be clever before Old General Zhao.”

Wei Ba was momentarily taken aback, but before he could respond, Peng Xiaoyu had already stepped aside, head bowed, not sparing him another glance.

Wei Yan and his sons took their seats. Usually proud, Wei Yan was humble before Zhao Yun, not presuming on his status as General Who Guards the North. He had intended to pay the proper respects of a disciple, but Zhao Yun firmly refused, saying it would disrupt the camaraderie among colleagues. Reluctantly, Wei Yan settled for a lesser formality and formally introduced his three sons. Zhao Yun, having decided to accept Wei Ba as a disciple, was naturally familiar with them all; still, he observed the courtesies, listening attentively and asking each a few gentle questions.

When it came time for Wei Ba to offer his respects, Zhao Yun raised a hand to stop him, smiling, “No hurry, no hurry. Let’s chat a while first.”

Wei Yan, not understanding, thought Zhao Yun was having second thoughts and was about to speak, but Wei Ba signaled him with a glance, then respectfully said to Zhao Yun, “At your command, General, please ask.”

Wei Yan’s brow twitched, displeased that Wei Ba addressed Zhao Yun as “General” instead of “Master.” Yet Zhao Yun was delighted. Stroking his beard with one hand and pinching Wei Ba’s shoulder with the other, he asked calmly, “I hear you’ve been running every morning these days?”

Wei Ba bowed and answered.

“Have you ever practiced breathing techniques?”

“My father has taught me a little, mainly as a preparation before sword practice.”

“Hmm. I know Wenchang’s martial skills well. Your temperament is like Lord Guan’s, and your martial arts also bear a resemblance.” Zhao Yun smiled at Wei Yan. “I doubt Lord Guan could have imagined that the few pointers he gave you back then would one day make you a valiant general for the Han.”

Wei Yan was both pleased and embarrassed. “General flatters me. In your presence, how could I claim to be a valiant general?”

“No need for modesty. You know I don’t praise people lightly.” Zhao Yun sighed softly. “You model yourself after Lord Guan in all things, which is not bad in itself. But remember, imitation is still only mimicry. If you wish to advance further, you must let go of Lord Guan and find your own path. After all, he is himself, and you are you. To emulate the highest, you can only achieve the middling.”

Wei Yan bowed respectfully. “Thank you for your guidance, General. I shall strive all the more in the future.”

“With your intelligence, I’ve no doubt you’ll go far,” Zhao Yun said, turning to Wei Ba. “Swordsmanship values power, spear techniques precision; the mindsets are different but not vastly so. But to reach the highest levels, technique alone is not enough. More important is this.”

Zhao Yun curled a finger and tapped his chest. “You must use your heart. Do you understand?”

Wei Ba frowned and, after a moment, shook his head. “This disciple is dull-witted and does not fully grasp your meaning.”

Wei Yan, infuriated, raised his hand to strike, but Zhao Yun stopped him, laughing. “Wenchang, the child is sincere. I like that.”

“Oh? Oh!” Wei Yan’s anger vanished, replaced by pride as he looked at Wei Ba.

Wei Ba quietly exhaled in relief. He’d nearly replied reflexively, “I understand,” but Peng Xiaoyu’s advice came to mind just in time. Dunwu also once said that while Zhao Yun may not have many great feats to his name, no one could truly gauge the depths of his martial prowess. To play clever before such a man would be foolish. What if Zhao Yun followed up with, “What exactly do you understand?” Then he would have been exposed. It was better to be honest: say you know when you know and admit when you don’t. Honesty is best.

As events proved, his choice was indeed the right one.

—First update of the early morning. Please vote!