Chapter Forty-Seven: Second Brother

Zhang Xuan paid no heed to Yang Zaixing’s words. “Such a good proposal—do you really think you’d refuse? Besides, when we became sworn brothers last time, did I ever ask your opinion?”

“You dare bring up the last time we swore brotherhood? I only remember muddling through and suddenly gaining a little brother—didn’t feel anything else. But if Yuwen agrees, this proposal isn’t so bad after all.”

“That’s more like it. Besides, how would we know if it works unless we give it a try? The first step is always the hardest, but also the beginning of success. I’ve already taken the first step, so as the eldest, shouldn’t you seize the moment and walk the remaining nine hundred ninety-nine steps to success? Now, go boldly ask for Yuwen’s opinion. Be sure to win over my ‘second brother’—otherwise, you’re unworthy of being the eldest. Good luck, off you go!” Zhang Xuan finished speaking and gestured for Yang Zaixing to hurry up and put the plan into action.

Suddenly, Yang Zaixing understood what it meant to be pushed to the edge without a choice. Scratching his head and pondering his words, he glanced at Zhang Xuan, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. Yang Zaixing then took a deep breath, walked over to Yuwen Chengdu, and said, “Yuwen, what do you think of Xiaoxuanzi’s proposal just now?”

“I have no problem with it, but…”

Perhaps Yang Zaixing didn’t hear Yuwen Chengdu’s answer at all, as he continued to recite the speech he had prepared. “You don’t have to give us your answer right away, after all, it’s an important matter—you shouldn’t make a hasty decision. You can go home and think it over, and then give us your reply. If you really feel it’s not suitable, we can still be friends…”

Zhang Xuan was speechless at his eldest brother’s performance. The man had already agreed, yet Yang Zaixing kept mumbling on. Yuwen Chengdu also watched him with amusement.

Zhang Xuan looked at Yuwen Chengdu, who happened to glance back. Zhang Xuan shrugged toward Yuwen, pointed at Yang Zaixing, then tapped his own head, silently implying, “Don’t mind him—he’s a bit slow in the head.” Unable to listen any longer, Zhang Xuan stepped forward and tugged Yang Zaixing, “Big brother, that’s enough. If you keep going, my newly recognized ‘second brother’ might run off because of you. He’s already agreed—what’s with all this fuss?”

“He agreed? When did he agree? How come I didn’t hear it?” Yang Zaixing looked in bewilderment at Zhang Xuan and Yuwen Chengdu.

“I’m truly defeated by your innocence, big brother.” Zhang Xuan then moved to stand between Yang Zaixing and Yuwen Chengdu, linking their arms and glancing at each in turn. “From this moment on, the Brotherhood of Three is officially formed—eldest brother, second brother, in the days to come, I’ll be counting on your protection.”

Yuwen Chengdu looked at Zhang Xuan, then at Yang Zaixing, secretly wondering if sworn brotherhood ceremonies were always this casual. Wasn’t there supposed to be incense and ritual? As he pondered this, Yang Zaixing, as the eldest, spoke up, “Of the three of us, I am the oldest, so let me be the eldest brother. Second brother, I look forward to your guidance in the days ahead. We’re easygoing and don’t care much for ceremony. As long as you treat me sincerely, I will never let you down. Even if the sky falls, I will hold it up for you both—this is my promise, valid forever.”

With that, both Yang Zaixing and Zhang Xuan looked to Yuwen Chengdu. Watching Zhang Xuan, Yuwen suddenly felt as though he’d boarded a pirate ship—if fate had it in store for him, there was no escape. Steeling himself, he called out to them, “Big brother, third brother.” Thus, the formidable “Brotherhood of Three” of the north was established.

Originally, Zhang Xuan had wandered the streets hoping for a chance encounter—a hero saving a damsel in distress. But dreams and wishful thinking are worlds apart. It turned out his hopes were pure fantasy. He wandered everywhere, almost covering the whole town, but found nothing—not even a single bully harassing a girl, let alone a hero rescuing one.

However, when passing a blacksmith’s shop, the three of them each had the smith forge a dagger-like blade to their specifications. They also had one made for Yang Hu and arranged a time to pick them up.

“It seems there’s nothing more to see here, and nowhere else worth wandering, either. Big brother, second brother, why don’t we just head back?” Zhang Xuan’s enthusiasm for wandering was gone by afternoon. Although the town was large, nothing on the streets caught his eye—or perhaps he simply lacked the discerning gaze to spot any treasures. At times like these, he wished he had x-ray vision or a thousand-year-old artifact expert to guide him—someone who’d spot a treasure in a pile of junk and say, “Kid, buy that old thing.” Upon buying it, the item would have some extraordinary function, allowing the protagonist to soar or show off for a while. Such setups were the envy of all. Why, he wondered, was his own journey as a transmigrated protagonist so lackluster?

Yang Zaixing had long wanted to go back. The afternoon felt like a total waste of precious training time. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have agreed to come out with Zhang Xuan. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty. As for Yuwen Chengdu, he nodded in agreement with the suggestion.

On their way back to the Yan household, the three saw a crowd gathered by the roadside, with cries for help coming from within. They went over to see what was happening.

In the center of the crowd lay a middle-aged man, his body convulsing. Next to him was a woman—presumably his wife—watching him anxiously, clearly at a loss for what to do, calling out to passersby for help to save her husband.

Zhang Xuan and the others asked those nearby what had happened. They learned that the man had suddenly collapsed with seizures; the woman was his wife, who panicked and called for help. Someone had already gone to fetch a doctor, but the clinic was far away—Zhang Xuan had noticed it earlier during his wanderings. By the time the doctor arrived, it might be too late.

Zhang Xuan looked at Yang Zaixing and Yuwen Chengdu, asking if they had any ideas. Both confessed their helplessness—if it were a sprain or a bruise, they might manage, but treating convulsions was beyond them and could be dangerous.

After a while, Zhang Xuan saw the decisive object that would unveil the prelude to this chaotic age.