On the twenty-sixth day, the gods descended.

Luan Yi heard the elder borrow Zheng Xuan’s words to praise "On the Origin of Wealth" as a remedy for enriching the nation, and quickly responded with humility, bowing respectfully, “I dare not claim it as a remedy for the nation’s ills; I only hope it can enlighten minds.” The elder continued to lavish praise, but Luan Yi remained modest and self-effacing.

The old man smiled and introduced himself, “I am Pang Shanmin of Xiangyang, and this is my nephew, Pang…” Before he could finish his words, Luan Yi stared in astonishment, pointing first at the old man and then at the mischievous boy beside him, exclaiming, “Are you Pang Degong? And this is Pang Tong, Pang Shiyuan?”

“I am indeed Pang De. But Shiyuan? What Shiyuan?” Pang De looked puzzled.

Luan Yi then remembered that Pang Tong was only five or six, not yet of age to receive a courtesy name. He laughed awkwardly, trying to brush the matter aside.

Unexpectedly, Pang Degong took it seriously. A sudden flash of insight crossed his face, and he seized Pang Tong by the neck, pressing him down before Luan Yi with delight. “Nephew, why not kneel and thank Master Ziqi for bestowing a courtesy name!”

“A courtesy name?” Now it was Luan Yi’s turn to be surprised. “What courtesy name?”

“Ziqi, how forgetful you are! Did you not just give Pang Tong the courtesy name ‘Shiyuan’?” Pang Degong insisted.

“Ah? But…I am still so young, how could I have the authority to bestow a courtesy name?” Now Luan Yi was flustered. Such honors were reserved for elders, and he was only a nine-year-old child, hardly qualified.

Pang Degong simply smiled and said, “If I say you are qualified, then you are. Besides, Ziqi, you wrote ‘Strange Tales’ at seven, earned a prodigy’s name at eight, and now at nine, you’ve published ‘On the Origin of Wealth’—your talent puts others to shame. The worthy precede, and you are worthy indeed. You may act as an elder and bestow a name.” With that, he pressed Pang Tong’s small head to the ground in repeated bows. “Hurry and thank the prodigy Master Ziqi for your courtesy name.”

“Thank you, Master Ziqi. Thank you, Master Ziqi.” Pang Tong kowtowed three times before escaping Pang Degong’s grip and scrambling to his feet. Luan Yi had thought the boy would be upset after such a fuss, but instead, Pang Tong beamed with pride, his eyes filled with admiration and respect.

“This… I am truly humbled!” Luan Yi covered his face in embarrassment. He never imagined that the courtesy name of the future Phoenix Chick would be given by him!

After the naming and thanks, Luan Yi invited the academy’s leaders and the Pang uncle and nephew to dine together at the Qifeng Pavilion.

At the banquet, everyone enjoyed themselves, engaged in lively conversation. Pang Tong clung to Luan Yi, peppering him with endless questions, until Luan Yi grew quite irritable. Were it not for the boy’s future fame, he might have tossed him out.

“Master Ziqi. Tong—no, Shiyuan,” Pang Tong corrected himself, still getting used to his new name, “Shiyuan heard that last year, you killed a bear all by yourself.”

“Killed a bear?” Luan Yi sputtered his wine in shock, spraying Dan Fu in the face. The spectacle sent Guo Jia into fits of laughter, and even the ever-serious Xun Yu couldn’t help but chuckle. “I didn’t kill a bear. I just happened to run into one, but fortunately Brother Dian was passing by and slew it, saving my life.”

Pang Tong frowned in confusion. “So it was Brother Dian who killed the bear? But everyone says you did it. They say you smashed the bear with a stone over five feet long and five feet thick.”

“What?” Luan Yi’s eyes widened. “Who said that?”

“You don’t know?” Guo Jia smiled. “It’s all over the city now—people are telling wild stories. Some even say you transformed into a golden-armored deity over ten feet tall, fighting a thousand-year-old bear demon atop Phoenix Perch Mountain for three days and nights before slaying it and ridding the people of evil.”

“People believe that?”

“A great many do!” Xi Zhicai added. “Rumor has it the five of us are the Five Officials, divine beings sent from heaven to save mankind. In times of crisis, we turn into giant celestial generals to slay monsters and exorcise demons…”

“Celestial generals?” Even Luan Yi had to laugh. He’d been too busy lately to pay attention to such tales, and never imagined that the people of the Han were so imaginative, concocting stories of gods and demon slayers! Perhaps it was the influence of Strange Tales?

After a good laugh, Luan Yi grew serious and explained to Pang Tong, “It wasn’t at all like the rumors. Actually, that day…” He recounted the events on Phoenix Perch Mountain from beginning to end.

When Pang Tong heard how Luan Yi survived the bear attack by feigning death, he gasped, asking, “Master Ziqi, how did you know a bear wouldn’t eat corpses?”

Luan Yi modestly insisted Pang Tong call him Brother Yi like everyone else, and claimed he’d heard it from mountain hunters. Then he admonished Pang Tong: “As Confucius said, ‘Among any three people, I can find my teacher.’ If you seek knowledge, you must never be ashamed to ask, and never look down on those in other walks of life.”

Pang Tong took the lesson to heart, bowing in gratitude and declaring himself enlightened.

Pang Degong, too, nodded with a smile, drinking several cups in good cheer.

Pang Degong stayed two days in Yingchuan before departing for the capital to visit friends. Before he left, Luan Yi entrusted him with two letters—one to his teacher Cai Yong, filled with academic queries; the other to Cai Yan, full of words of longing.

In September, the carpentry workshop and the Le Yi Pavilion were running smoothly under his father Luan Miao’s management, so Luan Yi could finally rest.

In his leisure, he read books, drank tea with friends, chatted, and played chess.

As the students grew older, the academy curriculum became more diverse, no longer focused solely on the classics and rituals, but covering the six gentlemanly arts: rites, music, archery, chariot-driving, writing, and mathematics.

It was at the academy that Luan Yi learned to drive a carriage and ride a horse. Whenever he had spare time, he would invite his friends to go hunting in the mountains, always with Dian Wei at his side as a protector.

After helping Dian Wei avenge his family, Luan Yi saw how poor Dian Wei’s household was, and suggested he move to Yingchuan, so they could look out for each other.

Dian Wei was at first reluctant, but with his wife’s baby in need of milk, and their old benefactor Liu dead, they lost their source of support. Raising his son, Dian Man, became a real problem.

Out of necessity, Dian Wei agreed to move with Luan Yi, but insisted on earning his keep through honest labor. Luan Yi readily agreed, assigning him to head security at the carpentry workshop, with steady pay and free lodging—an easy and comfortable life.

With more free time, Luan Yi often visited Dian Wei’s home.

One day, in conversation, Dian Wei advised, “Ziqi, you were born with great strength; it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Why not learn some martial arts? If war comes, you could earn distinction by your skills; if peace prevails, you’ll at least have a way to protect yourself.”

Luan Yi thought this made sense. In eight years, chaos would engulf the land, and battle would be unavoidable. Even if he could not become a great warrior, he needed enough skill to survive.

So, from that day on, Luan Yi began training with Dian Wei every morning, lifting stone locks to build strength for an hour, then practicing with the halberd.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Luan Yi in this life was as unathletic as he had been in his former one. Despite memorizing all of Dian Wei’s halberd techniques, he could not wield the weapon with any grace; it always felt awkward and unnatural, as if the halberd was not his own limb, let alone an extension of his will.

This left Dian Wei tearing his hair out. Such a promising pupil with excellent bones and a brilliant mind—how could he not master even the basics? Dian Wei realized there were no perfect people: Luan Yi excelled at scholarship, but was hopeless at martial arts.

Besides halberd practice, Luan Yi also had to learn archery at the academy. As with the halberd, his archery was abysmal. While other students could barely draw a one-stone bow, Luan Yi could pull a four-stone bow that most grown men could not, but his aim was atrocious—nine out of ten arrows missed.

Guo Jia and Dan Fu teased him mercilessly, and Luan Yi was frustrated. No matter how hard he practiced, nothing improved.

One day, during archery class, Luan Yi loosed arrow after arrow, missing every target as usual. Guo Jia and Dan Fu could not stop laughing; the archery master just shook his head.

Stung in his pride and seething with anger, Luan Yi barked, “What’s so funny?” Then, in a huff, he grabbed a stone lock lying at the edge of the field and hurled it at the target. With a loud crack, the stone hit the bullseye dead center, smashing the target to bits and breaking the stone into pieces.

Everyone, from teacher to student, was dumbstruck. The stone lock weighed over twenty pounds—most people could barely lift it with two hands, let alone throw it so far and with such precision.

Luan Yi saw the amazement in his classmates’ eyes. He had Dan Fu set up a new target, casually picked up another stone lock, weighed it in his hand, aimed, and tossed it.

Crack! Smash!

Luan Yi looked at his hands, then at the shattered target twenty paces away, and burst out laughing.

He suddenly remembered the day he faced the bear: hadn’t he, in that moment of crisis, hurled a stone with deadly accuracy at the beast’s head? So that was it—he was no archer, but had an extraordinary talent for throwing!

Inspired, he thought about his struggles with the halberd. Perhaps, like archery, the halberd was simply not suited to him. He needed a weapon that, like hurling an iron lock, could make the most of his natural strength.