Chapter Eleven: Little Scoundrel!

By noon, Li Zhao’s purse was already bulging with silver shards, worth over fifty strings of cash—a considerable sum, enough to buy four or five sturdy oxen.

Feeling that he had gained enough, Li Zhao tugged at Bai Mo, and the two withdrew from the frenzied crowd. Yet, they did not leave the cockfighting grounds; instead, they climbed the stairs to the second level.

As it turned out, the cockfighting arena was divided into two floors: the first for the matches themselves, and the second for selling fighting cocks. Here, rows upon rows of cages were arrayed, each containing various breeds: reed-feathered, blue-plumed, black-plumed, snow-crested, grand-tailed, small-tailed... Their cries rose and fell in unison, such that it seemed one could host a cockfighting exposition at any moment.

Each cage bore a slip of paper, listing details such as breed, price, and grade of the bird inside.

Cockfights, graded? Indeed, based on breed, fighting prowess, and previous records, people had grown accustomed to classifying fighting cocks into five ranks:

The Common Grade, played by ordinary folk, featured cocks one might see on any street. These birds relied on brute force and aggression, with little technique, priced from a few hundred cash to several strings—cheap and unremarkable.

The Good Grade boasted sturdy physiques and fierce tempers, complemented by some fighting skills. These were the mainstay of cockfighting venues, costing over ten strings—enough for a robust ox.

The Superior Grade possessed impressive stature and strength, with resplendent feathers and excellent combat techniques. The price started at a hundred strings, far beyond the reach of most—only wealthy merchants and nobles could afford to dabble.

The Excellent Grade comprised birds handpicked by professional trainers, bred from the finest strains and taught by secret methods. Majestic and domineering, these cocks mastered all manner of fighting skills, and bore an indomitable will—never retreating, never surrendering. Their value exceeded a thousand strings, more precious than their weight in gold, affordable only to the highest echelons of power; their numbers were so rare that, often, demand far outpaced supply. There were even stories of families ruined in pursuit of a single Excellent Grade cock.

And then, the Supreme Grade: invincible, undefeated, exuding the aura of a king. One piercing cry could render all other cocks submissive. Such a being could not even be called a cock—it was said to be a descendant of the phoenix. No one had ever seen such a cock; many believed the phoenix’s heir was but a myth, a fanciful invention. As for its price—it was beyond measure.

Of course, the grading of fighting cocks was a matter of human judgment, and mistakes were inevitable. Some had bought a plain-looking cock at a low price, only to discover it was a powerhouse—winning battle after battle, amassing fortunes. Others had paid dearly for a bird of perfect appearance, only to watch it crumble at the first confrontation.

The people of the Tang Empire were so enamored with cockfighting that some would bankrupt themselves for a single fine bird.

Because of this, Li Zhao planned to purchase a few cocks, train them well, and then sell them at a higher price. In this way, the profits would far exceed those from gambling on fights, and without any risk.

Yet after several circuits of the second floor, Li Zhao was disappointed. First, the birds here were of poor stock—mostly pretty but useless, hopeless even with careful training. Second, the prices were exorbitant, often dozens or even hundreds of strings. A so-called “pride of the shop,” a blue-feathered superior cock, was priced at an astronomical eight hundred strings—enough to buy a fine courtyard.

Having put in tremendous effort to win just over fifty strings, Li Zhao could hardly spend it all on a few feathers.

What to do?

The solution was simple. The two left the cockfighting grounds and slipped into a nearby alley where, instead of full-grown fighting cocks, chicks just hatched from their eggs were being sold.

Cockfighting was a costly pastime; few could truly afford it. What, then, of those with more enthusiasm than capital?

The best option was to buy some chicks, raise and train them with care, and use them for fighting when grown. With luck, one might nurture a superior or excellent cock, selling it for a handsome sum.

Thus, many poor households kept a few fighting cocks, dreaming of one day striking it rich.

But raising and training cocks was a learned art. Without talent, one could raise ten thousand birds and not produce a single worthy fighter—a waste of feed.

“Master, would you like to buy some chicks? These are all good breeds, strong and healthy. Raise them well, and you’re sure to get a few promising ones. Then you’ll make a fortune.”

“What’s the price?”

“One cash each. Buy more, and I’ll throw in a few extras.”

“Good!”

After wandering about, they stopped before a small vendor with several large baskets, each packed with chirping chicks of fine appearance. Li Zhao crouched down, carefully selecting.

Picking fighting cocks was a true art—a process of “three looks, one touch.”

First, the feathers: blue, red, purple, and black were best; white, reed, or ochre next; brownish-red after that; mixed-feathered cocks ranked lowest.

Second, the head: small and firm, with a sharp beak and wide nostrils; eyes that were white, yellow, or red—with white being the finest.

Third, the legs: strong and slightly curved, with good spring; long, slender claws—deadly weapons in a fight.

Lastly, the touch: beneath the tail, two bones—run a finger along them; the closer the gap, the longer the bird’s stamina, and the greater its striking power.

Using these criteria, Li Zhao quickly chose ten chicks: three blue-feathered, three red, two purple, and two black—each lively and vigorous, all first-rate prospects.

With careful nurturing, each would become an outstanding fighter, certain to fetch a high price. Then, he could enjoy the life of a prosperous country squire.

“Cheep, cheep—cheep, cheep!”

“Hm?”

Just as he was about to pay, a clear, piercing chirp rang out. It was unusually loud, and as it sounded, all the other chicks instantly fell silent, as if frightened.

What was going on?

Tracing the sound, Li Zhao found a small bamboo basket beside the vendor, holding a single chick—a rather ugly, mixed-feathered thing. The cry had come from it.

“Excuse me, why is there a mixed-feathered chick here?”

“Sigh, don’t mention it. My best breeding hen sat on over twenty eggs, but all were duds—only this one hatched. I thought it might be something special, but it turned out to be an ugly little mongrel. It’s been out here six or seven days and no one wants it. Worse still, it’s terribly unruly—always fighting the others and causing chaos in the baskets, so I had to keep it apart. If it doesn’t sell, I’ll just take it home and make soup—at least it’s meat.”

“Heh, such an ugly little thing is rare indeed. Since no one wants it, sell it to me. Raising it for fun might be amusing.”

“It’s just a mongrel, Master. If you like it, I’ll give it to you for free.”

A mixed-feathered chick was the lowest of the low in cockfighting—worthless, and hardly picked up even if left on the street. The vendor generously gifted it to Li Zhao, basket and all.

Li Zhao accepted without ceremony. After paying, he left with eleven chicks.

Once in a quiet spot, he pulled out the little mongrel, examining it from head to toe with great delight.

“Master, it’s just a mongrel. What’s so interesting about it?”

“You don’t understand. As the saying goes, ‘To the extreme, things reverse; from the depths, fortune arises.’ In this world, the best and the worst are often separated by a hair’s breadth. Who’s to say that this ugly chick won’t one day soar and become a phoenix?”

Li Zhao had looked carefully. Though the chick was homely, it had a small head, sharp beak, bright eyes, and long breath—if trained properly, it might well become a fine fighting cock.

And if not, keeping such an adorably ugly pet would be amusing enough.

Next, the two went to a herbalist to buy some urgently needed medicines, then to the nearby market for daily necessities, and finally found Uncle Cai, who had finished selling his mountain goods. They rode his ox cart back to Qianlong Hill.

Upon returning to the small shrine, Li Zhao set to work himself, building two coops from blue bricks, lined with clean straw and fenced with bamboo and wood—homes for his chicks.

Ordinarily, one coop would have sufficed, since the chicks were still small. But the mongrel was too domineering, always bullying the others and causing chaos. In the end, it had to be given its own room.

In the days that followed, Li Zhao no longer worried about money. Whenever funds ran low, he would visit the cockfighting grounds for a few matches, relying on his sharp eye to return with full pockets each time.

The eleven chicks grew strong and healthy, destined to become first-rate fighting cocks, sure to fetch high prices.

Of course, cockfighting was just a pastime. Li Zhao devoted himself mainly to practicing his skills and reading, striving to improve his abilities.

He knew well that the future Tang Empire did not need a cockfighting champion, but a leader both literate and martial, undefeated in a hundred battles, who could quell chaos and save the people.

Thus, some time passed, until news arrived: Li De and his family of four had returned!