Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 60: Debao Rickshaw Yard’s Men

Ignoring the stunned Debao pullers, Xiangzi led Old Ma to a nearby open-air tea stall and sat.
A minor scuffle—would Debao dare challenge Harmony’s cart leader openly?
Besides, Xiangzi had no shortage of enemies. Ma Liu’s Fat Lord aside, even Liu Hu at Harmony saw him as a thorn.
For some reason, a heavy mood lingered in Xiangzi’s heart today.
Seeing Old Ma’s gaunt frame—
likely hasn’t eaten properly in days
—Xiangzi pulled two silver dollars from his pocket, slapping them on the table. “Boss, a jin of liquor and some quick dishes!”
The cook, eyeing the gleaming coins, grinned ear to ear.
Soon, two steamers of buns, a plate of braised beef, and a jin of liquor arrived.
The cook chuckled, “Eat up, gents! Braised elbow and lamb offal coming soon!”
Xiangzi pushed the food toward Old Ma.
Old Ma’s face flushed. “Lord Xiang… I still owe you five silver dollars. Now I’m in your debt again…”
His voice trailed off, head lowering—he knew he’d never repay it.
Xiangzi waved it off, smiling. “When I joined the second-tier yard, you helped me settle in. Without that, I wouldn’t be here.”
Old Ma froze, Xiangzi’s sincerity stinging his heart.
What did I do? Just fixed some bedding, moved things—small stuff not worth these buns.
Guilt crossed his face. Glancing at the lingering pullers outside, he whispered, “Lord Xiang, those Debao guys might call for backup. Should we move?”
Xiangzi grabbed two buns, setting them on a lotus leaf for Old Ma, chuckling. “What, Old Ma, too good for my buns?”
Old Ma, catching Xiangzi’s kindness, took them with trembling hands. After a few bites, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Old Ma’s gray hair was like straw, his hands like charred sticks, his greasy robe flapping on his bony frame.
Where’s the second-tier puller who awakened vitality?
Wen San, the loudmouth, had told Xiangzi about Old Ma’s past.
He wasn’t always like this.
Young Old Ma was a tough man, awakening vitality in his teens, surviving countless bloody trips with Fourth Master Liu.
In middle age, he saved enough for a small house, married off his son, and gained a grandson.
One pair of hands built a family in Forty-Nine City—how proud he must’ve been.
Wen San said Old Ma walked with a swagger then.
Little Ma was promising, awakening vitality in his teens despite dropping out of school. He joined the yard as a second-tier puller, broke the Vitality Barrier at seventeen, and was promoted to East Wing guard. Fourth Master Liu even saw potential for him to reach a rank.
But two years later, Little Ma was killed by bandits—right before Old Ma’s eyes.
His daughter-in-law left, abandoning a weaning boy.
Overnight, Old Ma’s spirit broke.
Uncle Jie, knowing Old Ma longer, understood his pain. He stood, piling beef and a pig’s trotter onto Old Ma’s plate.
As for Debao Rickshaw Yard, Uncle Jie scoffed, unbothered. He unslung his two-piece short spear, slapped it on the table, and dug into the buns.
Those nameless dishes at Deyun Tower didn’t fill the gaps—these hot meat buns are the real deal!
The spear’s glint startled nearby patrons.
Xiangzi, leisurely eating beef, said, “Old Ma, come back to Harmony. I’ll talk to Fourth Master—you’ll stay in the second-tier yard.”
Having pulled fares for months, Xiangzi knew how tough it was to go solo. Forty-Nine City’s yards had carved out their territories.
For Xiangzi, this was trivial; for Old Ma, a lifeline.
Old Ma’s chopsticks paused, and he nodded heavily. “Alright, Lord Xiang, whatever you say.”
“But no need to arrange lodging. I rent a small place in East City with Little Ma’s boy.”
Xiangzi nodded, pouring Old Ma a cup of liquor.
Old Ma downed it, his gray temples trembling like willow fluff in the dusk breeze.
The liquor brought color to his pale face. Wiping his mouth, perhaps emboldened by the drink, Old Ma’s expression wavered between a smile and a sob. “Thanks to you, Lord Xiang, I’m eating like this. Pulling fares, no matter how hard I work, an extra coin’s hard to come by.”
“No shame in admitting, this is my first meat this month, thanks to you.”
“Take your time,” Xiangzi forced a smile, opening another steamer of buns.
“Don’t pity me, Lord Xiang. I’m struggling, but I’ve got hope,” Old Ma said, his gray face suddenly glowing. “My Little Ma’s boy is doing well at Baolin Martial Hall, a second-tier apprentice. He might become a ranked warrior…”
“Heh, if he makes it, our Ma family can hold its head high.”
Old Ma beamed with pride. “Then I’ll live easy with my grandson, basking in his glory!”
Xiangzi sat silently, stunned.
Old Ma’s face held a strange radiance, like a temple’s clay idol—ashen with decay yet exuding an inexplicable intensity.
In his past life, Xiangzi read about Fan Jin passing the exams, finding it absurdly funny. Now, seeing it, he felt only sorrow.
In this world, becoming a warrior is the only path to defy fate.
Xiangzi knew a bit about Baolin Martial Hall’s apprentice system.
Apprentices paid tuition to train. They started as third-tier; breaking the Vitality Barrier made them second-tier; those with potential for ninth rank became first-tier.
Little Ma’s boy, young and breaking the Vitality Barrier, was a solid second-tier apprentice—a good talent among commoners.
But supporting an apprentice was costly. Old Ma’s East City rental was likely to save money, as staying at Baolin meant hefty expenses for food and lodging.
As they ate, a group of robed men approached—Debao Rickshaw Yard had called reinforcements.
They came in force, menacing.
Old Ma paled, sweat beading on his forehead.
I’ve dragged Lord Xiang into this.
Uncle Jie, unfazed, stuffed the last bun in his mouth, twirled his wrist, and assembled his spear.
A playful smirk played on his lips as he stayed seated.
The spear gleamed coldly in the sunset’s red glow.
Xiangzi chuckled, setting down his chopsticks.
A short spear peeked from his bundle.