Old Reed’s cloudy old eyes stared at Brian Carter, his wrinkled face full of ferocity.

Before he finished speaking, he saw Brian Carter’s hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Old Reed couldn’t help but panic inside, “Could this brat be thinking of drawing his sword to cut me down?”

Sensing danger, Old Reed wanted to take a few steps back to put some distance between them.

At that moment, Brian Carter had already drawn his sword.

The gleaming blade sliced through the air, and under the midday sun, it flashed with a blinding light.

Old Reed’s breath caught; under that sharp blade, he felt as if he’d been sliced in two.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to dodge, but his body was old and frail—though his mind wanted to move, his limbs just couldn’t keep up.

For a moment, Old Reed was stunned, then felt a burning pain on his scalp. He reached up to touch it—his messy hair on top had been shaved flat, and what he felt was sticky, warm, and unbearably painful.

“Ah…” With a miserable scream, Old Reed clutched his head and turned to run.

“Sorry, my hand slipped a little…”

Brian Carter let out a light sigh and said this with little sincerity.

Old Reed had already run far away and naturally couldn’t hear Brian Carter’s words.

Brian Carter picked up the scabbard and sheathed his sword. He secretly felt relieved—luckily, his opponent was an old man who reacted too slowly, so his strike didn’t go awry.

This sword-drawing slash was originally a technique from Eastern swordsmanship. It uses the curve of the blade to unleash explosive power as it leaves the scabbard, making it extremely lethal.

The horizontal sword was a long, straight-backed, thin-edged blade, without any curve. Moreover, Brian Carter’s body was weak.

When he drew and slashed, he couldn’t unleash any real power; the speed was lacking, and the accuracy was off.

He had intended to just shave off the old man’s hair, but his strike was a bit too low and ended up slicing off a layer of scalp.

If it had been any lower, the old man would have lost his life. Fortunately, his luck—and the old man’s—was good.

By evening, Old Reed finally sneaked back.

The setting sun cast dim light over the yard. Old Reed stood outside the door, peering in for a while before spotting Brian Carter lying beside the big pot. With a face full of grievance, he said, “Why haven’t you left yet? Are you planning to take over my house too?”

“I haven’t finished the meat yet, so of course I’m not leaving.” Brian Carter lay there, not even glancing at Old Reed, and replied as if it were only natural.

Old Reed was both angry and afraid. He paced at the doorway for a while before saying, “About what happened today, I’ll let it go for your father’s sake. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Brian Carter chuckled lightly. “I’ll stay here for a few days. Once the meat’s gone, I’ll leave.”

Even with his thick skin, Old Reed felt his face grow hot from Brian Carter’s laughter. The good news was, Brian Carter didn’t seem interested in holding a grudge.

Summoning his courage, Old Reed entered his own yard, skirted around Brian Carter, and slipped into the house.

To his surprise, Brian Carter followed him in.

“What do you want?” The old man was startled, his voice trembling.

That midday slash had left a deep impression on him. Most of all, it was Brian Carter’s calm and composed demeanor as he wielded the blade.

People like that don’t put on a show of ferocity—they kill without the slightest hesitation.

Old Reed had spent the whole afternoon outside, but in the end, he didn’t have the guts to provoke Brian Carter and had to swallow his anger.

“It’s too cold outside. I’m going to sleep indoors,” Brian Carter said matter-of-factly.

It was already autumn. Sleeping outside wouldn’t kill him, but it would sap a lot of his body heat. Naturally, Brian Carter wasn’t going to stay out there.

“All right then.” Old Reed was unwilling, but didn’t dare object.

The room wasn’t big—just one bed.

Brian Carter brought in a lot of dry straw from outside, piled it thickly in a corner, and lay down on it.

It was warm and clean here—no foul smell, no black pig grunting nearby.

Compared to the old pigsty, Brian Carter was extremely satisfied with this place. He stretched lazily, his sore muscles finally relaxing completely.

Old Reed lay on his wooden bed, wrapped in a thick fur coat, secretly keeping an eye on Brian Carter.

In the darkness, Brian Carter’s steady breathing soon filled the room.

Old Reed kept hesitating, wondering if he should take the opportunity for revenge. But whenever he recalled Brian Carter’s calm, composed eyes as he wielded the blade, fear crept in again.

After years as a hunter, Old Reed could sense the dangerous aura that emanated from Brian Carter’s very bones.

But to just give up on revenge like this—Old Reed felt unbearably stifled.

Torn by indecision, Old Reed drifted off to sleep.

When Old Reed opened his eyes again, it was already daylight. He started in alarm, looked across the room, and found that Brian Carter was gone.

He hurriedly got up, and as soon as he opened the door, he saw Brian Carter practicing boxing in the yard.

His movements were slow and unhurried, appearing smooth, flowing, and graceful—almost like a ritual dance.

Old Reed grew interested; he’d never seen this kind of boxing before. Could it be a secret technique passed down from Gao Xiang to his son?

Brian Carter knew Old Reed was watching, but didn’t care. Tai Chi isn’t something you can learn just by watching.

Back then, he had a famous master to teach him, practiced day and night, and it still took him ten years to enter the door of Tai Chi.

In this world, there was even less chance anyone could grasp the mysteries of Tai Chi.

Grasp the Sparrow’s Tail, Push the Window to Gaze at the Moon, Lazy Tie the Clothes, Single Whip—Brian Carter was practicing the most classic Tai Chi forms.