Chapter Thirty-Four: The True Identity of Old Man Tong

Zhao Yun lowered his head, his hands tightly clenched, as if he had made a momentous decision. Then he raised his head to look at Elder Tong and Uncle Yang, and knelt down before them. To be honest, Zhang Xuan and Yang Zaixing were utterly stunned by Zhao Yun’s actions; it seemed neither of them had ever knelt before Elder Tong.

“This morning, I had the privilege of witnessing the two masters sparring with spears in the courtyard, and now I have a rather bold request.”

“If it’s a bold request, then perhaps you shouldn’t ask at all. If you do, there’s a chance you’ll be refused, and wouldn’t that be awkward? Let me guess—are you seeking to become a disciple? You’ve got your eye on our handsome Elder Tong and Uncle Yang, admiring their formidable skills, wanting to learn from them so that, once you’ve mastered the craft, you can set out to make a name for yourself. Am I right, big brother? But why are you elbowing me? Did I say something wrong?” Zhang Xuan could more or less guess what Zhao Yun was after: seeing Elder Tong and Uncle Yang’s prowess, he wanted to learn from them. Yang Zaixing nudged Zhang Xuan with his elbow, signaling him to stop talking. After being elbowed, Zhang Xuan glanced at the awkward scene his words had created, covered his mouth with both hands, and turned his head away. However, he suddenly realized he had never actually asked Elder Tong his name. Could Elder Tong be... But Zhang Xuan dismissed the thought—surely not. Elder Tong didn’t seem like a master; he was more like a local rascal.

Zhao Yun, young and inexperienced, was left speechless by Zhang Xuan’s candid remarks. Yet Zhao Yun had grown up in troubled times, acutely aware of the people’s suffering, and had resolved to accomplish something great.

As silence fell and no one spoke, Zhao Yun remained kneeling awkwardly, while Elder Tong and Uncle Yang stood, deep in thought. Yang Zaixing and Yang Hu were simply ignored by Zhang Xuan, as they had no real part to play at the moment. Eventually, Zhang Xuan could no longer bear the awkwardness and broke the stalemate, eager to confirm his suspicions.

“Elder Tong, may I ask you a question? It’s a question that has lingered in my heart for nearly two months,” Zhang Xuan asked, looking at Elder Tong. The others turned to Zhang Xuan, intrigued by the idea that he, who never seemed to keep anything to himself, had held onto a question for so long. Even Elder Tong was curious and nodded.

“May I ask, then?” Zhang Xuan ventured cautiously.

“If you want to ask, just ask! Why all the preamble? What’s wrong with you today, fumbling over a simple question? Did yesterday’s beating knock some sense out of you?” Elder Tong said, stepping forward as if to feel Zhang Xuan’s forehead.

Zhang Xuan brushed Elder Tong’s hand away. “I’m not addled, just a bit embarrassed. After all, we’ve spent two months together, and I still don’t know your name. Could you satisfy my curiosity?” As he spoke, Zhang Xuan pressed his hands together in earnest, gazing at Elder Tong.

Uncle Yang exchanged glances with the others; it seemed none of them knew Elder Tong’s name either. Uncle Yang simply called him Old Tong, Yang Zaixing and Yang Hu addressed him as Master Tong or followed Zhang Xuan in calling him Elder Tong. Since they always used these titles, they had never bothered to learn more. For Zhang Xuan not to know Elder Tong’s full name was almost unbelievable, and everyone turned to Elder Tong, hoping he would enlighten them. But the most incredulous was surely Zhao Yun, still kneeling. He couldn’t fathom how these people had spent two months together without knowing each other’s names—what a peculiar situation. Life truly is a never-ending lesson.

“Xuan, why ask that now? Shouldn’t we first deal with Zhao Yun, who’s kneeling before us? Your roundabout ways leave me dizzy. I thought you knew my name. My surname is Tong, given name Yuan, courtesy name Xiongfu. Remember it, this is the only time I’ll answer such a question.”

Zhang Xuan had been prepared for Elder Tong to be Tong Yuan, but hearing it confirmed by Elder Tong himself, he closed his eyes, pressed his hand to his heart, feeling his pulse quicken. He marveled at how crazy the world was—what had he missed these past two months? Before him stood Elder Tong, the martial arts grandmaster who had taught Zhang Ren, Zhang Xiu, and (soon) Zhao Yun. Why hadn’t he learned a few moves himself? If he had, with skills like Zhang Ren’s, he could stride through the Three Kingdoms with ease—just thinking about it made him want to laugh.

Yang Zaixing and Yang Hu weren’t familiar with the name Tong Yuan, but Uncle Yang reacted similarly to Zhang Xuan: he stared blankly at Elder Tong, realizing that during this time, he had been fraternizing with a martial arts grandmaster.

“Old Tong—no, Master Tong—actually, I don’t even know how to address you anymore.” Uncle Yang rubbed the back of his head, his voice trembling in disbelief. He had always thought that someone like Tong Yuan would be distant and hard to approach, but after traveling together, he found Tong Yuan lived the same ordinary life as himself, had the same features, and shared joys and sorrows, and most importantly, was easy to get along with.

“Just call me Old Tong, as before. I’m just an ordinary man; suddenly being treated as a stranger makes me uncomfortable. This reputation is only because friends respect me. You’re making me feel pressured!” Elder Tong was clearly unsettled by Uncle Yang’s sudden formality, especially since their familiarity had grown over time. The abrupt change was disconcerting.

Yang Zaixing and Yang Hu, seeing Uncle Yang so agitated, deduced that Elder Tong must be an extraordinary figure, though they’d never heard of him. They exchanged glances, then looked to Zhang Xuan, who ignored them and focused on Uncle Yang. Gradually, he calmed down and, seeing their confusion, gave them a brief explanation of Elder Tong’s exploits. As for the specifics, even the author didn’t know—just that he was truly remarkable. At least, after hearing Uncle Yang’s account, Yang Zaixing and Yang Hu stared at Elder Tong with shining eyes, feeling their time together had been wasted if they didn’t learn at least a few moves. If nothing else, it would give them something to boast about.