Chapter Nine: The Super Butler

The Super Steward

To possess such masterful butchering skills after only a month— even Wu Hong himself found it hard to believe. At the same time, he was secretly even more astonished: just what kind of body-forging manual was this "True Interpretation of the Great Sun Tathagata"? Its wonders seemed to have no limits.

“Haha— Brother Hong, your skills are truly divine!” For a long moment, Huang Hu was speechless with awe, then burst into hearty laughter. He found himself at a loss for words—there simply were none grand enough to describe the artistry Wu Hong had just displayed.

Such skill as this surely descends from the heavens; how often does such mastery grace the world of men?

Huang Hu’s laughter jolted everyone else from their daze, and the place erupted in excitement—gone was any semblance of the strict discipline the Huang household usually upheld.

“Incredible! Was that even butchering? I used to detest butchers most—who would have thought slaughtering a cow could reach such heights! I was utterly mesmerized!”

The onlookers, members of the Huang family, chattered ceaselessly, completely forgetting how strict a master Huang Hu normally was. On any other day, such impertinence from the servants would have earned them a stern reprimand, if not outright expulsion from the estate.

Huang Hu’s wives and concubines—most of them delicate ladies—usually abhorred such bloody spectacles. They had been most unwilling when Huang Hu insisted Wu Hong perform before them. But none of them had expected to witness such a breathtaking display. Now, their cheeks flushed, they whispered excitedly among themselves.

“Brother Hong, you have truly broadened my horizons! My life is richer for having witnessed this!” Huang Hu strode up to Wu Hong in several large steps and, quite astonishingly, offered a slight bow. Butchering cattle and sheep had always been just a pastime for Huang Hu; never did he imagine that someone could elevate the slaughter of an ordinary cow—done in less than twenty minutes—to such an astounding level. It was almost beyond belief.

For a moment, Huang Hu was at a loss for words to express his shock. His whole body trembled, and when he spoke, his words were jumbled and incoherent.

Such conduct from Huang Hu was unheard of—when had a master of a great household ever bowed to a servant? Yet at this moment, no one felt it improper, for Wu Hong’s feat had simply been too astonishing.

Still, even now, people found it hard to believe what they had just seen was real. But when they looked at the neatly separated portions of beef laid out on the ground, they had no choice but to accept it.

Wu Hong wondered to himself if he had gone too far with his display today. Would it bring trouble?

“Brother Hong, your skill is truly extraordinary—Ling is in awe.” Huang Ling rose from her seat, approached Wu Hong, and gracefully offered a bow. “I must apologize for my earlier rudeness.”

“Not at all! Not at all! Miss Huang, you simply did not know the truth,” Wu Hong replied, hastily returning the salute.

He felt immense joy in his heart. Although he had always been respected in the Prince of Wuwei’s manor, that was mostly due to the prince’s authority. This, however, was different—it was his own ability that shocked and awed others, filling him with a profound sense of pride.

A warm current seemed to flow through his body, soothing him with an almost blissful comfort. Wu Hong nearly cried out in delight, but quickly restrained his excitement. Who would have thought that this single performance would strengthen his body’s energy even more than slaughtering a hundred cows? It was simply unbelievable!

“Haha! What are you all standing around for? Go and tidy up the beef! I want to dine with Brother Hong tonight!” Huang Hu, still elated, shouted his orders.

The servants were startled into action. That’s right! Master Huang was still present, and their uninhibited chatter had already crossed the line. They hurriedly gathered up the beef and left.

“Come, Brother Hong, sit down, make yourself at home!” Huang Hu, still excited, took Wu Hong by the hand.

Wu Hong, seeing there was no refusing, accepted the invitation with a bow and took his seat. His calm and composed manner was that of a scion from a noble family; Huang Ling’s eyes glimmered anew as she observed him.

Throughout the banquet, Huang Hu spoke of all manner of things, while Wu Hong conversed with him easily and with perfect etiquette—hardly the bearing of a beggar. Even after several cups of wine, his manners did not falter.

Wu Hong, however, was no match for strong drink. Feeling dizzy, he was ordered by Huang Hu to be carried back to his room to sleep.

Soon, in the vast hundred-square-meter reception hall, only Huang Hu and his sister Huang Ling remained.

“Ling’er, do you think you can see through this Wu Hong?” Huang Hu suddenly asked.

Huang Ling’s delicate brows knitted in thought. “Wu Hong’s conduct and bearing are nothing like that of an ordinary man. That natural air he possesses is something no commoner could ever imitate. But I truly cannot imagine who he is, nor does he seem the type to have enemies.”

After a long pause, Huang Hu replied, “Uncle Fu, what do you think? For what purpose has Wu Hong come to our house?”

As he finished speaking, an elderly man emerged from behind the screen—aged and stooped, with hair white as snow, yet his eyes shone with a piercing light.

“This Wu Hong is born with divine strength. Though his method of handling the fire ox was rather peculiar, I detected no sign of martial technique. I doubt he came to our humble Huang household with any special intent.”

Uncle Fu, the chief steward of the house, held an extraordinary position. Though technically a servant, he had served three generations of the Huang family, beginning with Huang Hu’s grandfather, and had always been loyal and diligent.

After a moment’s thought, Uncle Fu continued, “With skills like his, even a position as an imperial chef in the palace would be within reach. It seems he acquired his abilities fairly recently. Young master, you should make every effort to win him over—such a man is truly a talent.”

Huang Hu greatly valued Uncle Fu’s judgment, but even after pondering, he could make little sense of Wu Hong’s motives.

“Someone—” Huang Hu suddenly called out. Soon, Zhao, the head steward, hurried in.

“Pass on my orders: From now on, Wu Hong is the super steward of the Huang household, ranked equal to the chief steward. He is exempt from all ordinary duties, and no one is to trouble him for any reason.”

“Yes, sir,” Zhao replied, his face darkening briefly before he quickly withdrew.

That night, in every servant and maid’s room throughout the Huang residence, the lights remained on. Everyone was talking about Wu Hong’s godlike butchering skills. Even those who had always been repulsed by slaughtering cattle were left in astonished admiration after witnessing his performance.

The servants spread tales of Wu Hong’s greatness, elevating him to near-mythic status. The young maids, their hearts like blooming flowers, all began to regard him as the prince of their dreams.

Meanwhile, many of the men working in the slaughterhouse now saw Wu Hong as the goal they would strive to surpass in their lifetimes.

Wu Hong had spent only about a month learning the trade, yet had achieved such mastery—how could anyone not be amazed?

All the attention and admiration naturally converged, forming a subtle but potent faith that surged invisibly into Wu Hong himself.

At this moment, a faint golden aura emanated from Wu Hong’s entire body, growing steadily brighter and suffusing his flesh and blood with vitality. Had any outsider witnessed it, they would surely have fallen to their knees in worship, for the glow surrounding Wu Hong’s body was sacred, like a beam of golden light from the Buddhist Pure Land shining upon the world.

Of course, Wu Hong was utterly unaware of any of this. For many nights now, he had been practicing the Nineteen Forms of the True Interpretation of the Great Sun Tathagata, never once closing his eyes to sleep. Though the practice left him brimming with energy, the ingrained human habit of sleep still weighed on his mind. The wine at the banquet tonight had left him comfortably drowsy, and he slept more soundly than ever.

In his dreams, Wu Hong seemed to relive moments from his past—sometimes laughing, sometimes troubled, sometimes wild with emotion.

“Ah—!” Wu Hong woke with a start from a nightmare, sat up, and shook his head ruefully. “Just a dream?”

Dawn was breaking, the sky tinged with the faintest white, but Wu Hong was wide awake, feeling refreshed as he washed up.

His body felt different from before; warm currents flowed constantly throughout his limbs and meridians. Though he found it odd, he could not fathom the cause. He supposed it was simply that he was approaching a bottleneck in his body-forging practice and thought no more of it.

After running through the Nineteen Forms once, Wu Hong broke out in a sweat, washed up, and left his room for the slaughterhouse.

Passing through the garden and by the cattle pens, he entered the slaughterhouse. As soon as he stepped inside—

“Good morning, Steward Hong!” everyone greeted him in unison.

“Brothers, what is this?” Wu Hong, a little flustered, returned their salute. Having grown up in the Prince of Wuwei’s household, where etiquette was paramount, he was well-drilled in such manners. But today’s atmosphere was wholly unlike before—he was at a loss.

“Hahaha! Kid, your performance yesterday has become the talk of the whole Huang household! Who doesn’t know Wu Hong now?” Niu Dali laughed heartily, striding energetically toward him.

Suddenly Niu Dali realized that calling Wu Hong by name was too familiar. The Huang estate was strict about hierarchy, and such informality could get him in trouble if overheard by the wrong person. Awkwardly, he corrected himself, “I suppose I should call you Super Steward now.”

Seeing Niu Dali suddenly grow formal, Wu Hong quickly replied, “Please don’t! Brother Niu, call me brother as before. No matter how skillful I become, you were my first teacher. Whatever my status may be, you will always be my Brother Niu!”

Wu Hong’s sincerity moved all the butchers, who nodded approvingly. To remain humble despite his achievements—this was the true measure of his character.

“Haha, good brother!” Niu Dali was deeply touched, and slapped Wu Hong heartily on the shoulder—a blow that, a month ago, would have sent Wu Hong sprawling. But things were different now.