Practicing Fist Techniques

The night was deep. At the Supervising Official's yamen, Song Changjing returned alone. The young Song Jixin had already gone to the dog kennel that was Mud Bottle Alley. Song Changjing didn't force him; as a veteran general who had commanded troops for many years, he could snore loudly even amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Therefore, he didn't feel he owed his nephew, who had been left to fend for himself, anything for living a life that wasn't befitting royalty. It was good enough that he could return to Great Li's Capital City alive.

The elderly steward of the yamen had been waiting at the entrance, holding a lantern.

Song Changjing stepped over the threshold, the side gate only half-open, and strode forward, saying, "No need to show me the way."

The elderly steward nodded silently, slowed his steps, and then quietly departed.

This yamen on Fulu Street was not built luxuriously. Its grounds were far smaller than the residences of the Lu and Li families. The previous, genuine Kiln Affairs Supervisor had lived a life of hardship and frugality, and the town's prominent families hadn't found it unusual.

But Song Changjing was different. He was the current Great Li Emperor's full brother, had achieved unparalleled merits in expanding the empire's territory, and was a top martial arts grandmaster on the East Treasure Bottle Continent.

His arrival was like a dragon crossing a river into a small lake. Even if the local powers weren't exactly terrified, everyone would show the proper respect when facing someone like Song Changjing.

As Song Changjing passed a small courtyard, he saw someone still studying by lamplight inside. Their posture was upright, and even when alone, they were meticulous.

Truly a gentleman.

Song Changjing, his wide sleeves billowing, walked past quickly, a mocking smile on his lips.

Years ago, a young man studied at the Guanhhu Academy. His calligraphy was divine, and he became famous throughout the court. The ruler of Southern Wei summoned him to the imperial palace, where he was to draft imperial edicts in a side hall. It was the dead of winter, and the snow was so heavy that his brush froze, making it impossible to write. The Emperor ordered over ten palace concubines to attend him, warming his brush with their breath.

This incident quickly spread throughout the East Treasure Bottle Continent, becoming a beautiful anecdote.

However, no one stopped to think: how could the common people know about such a thing, given the strictness of the imperial palace? If the Emperor didn't speak, the eunuchs didn't speak, and the concubines didn't speak, how would the public find out?

Walking along a secluded path, Song Changjing suddenly let out a hearty laugh.

Song Jixin, dressed in simple white clothes, returned to Mud Bottle Alley. The courtyard gate was unlocked. Pushing open the door, he saw the maidservant Zhi Gui sitting on a chair in the main hall, her eyes half-closed, her head tilted as she dozed. Whenever her head tilted too far, she would immediately straighten up, only to tilt again.

It seemed the girl was truly exhausted. Song Jixin bent down and gently shook her shoulder, saying softly, "Zhi Gui, Zhi Gui, wake up. Go back to your room and sleep. Be careful not to catch a cold."

The sleepy girl rubbed her eyes and mumbled, "Young Master, why are you back so late?"

Song Jixin smiled, "I went to the Covered Bridge. It's a bit far, so I'm late."

Zhi Gui noticed Song Jixin's unfamiliar formal attire and exclaimed, "Huh? Young Master, why did you change your clothes?"

Song Jixin didn't want to dwell on the topic. "Let's not talk about that. How has your reading and writing been since I lent you that local county gazetteer? Do you want me to teach you?"

The girl shook her head. "No need."

Song Jixin returned to his room, which was pitch black. He took off his outer robe, kicked off his boots, and felt his way to the bed. The young man murmured, "Wang Zhu, Wang Zhu, so that's how it is."

Zhi Gui returned to her room and turned off the light to sleep. She curled up in her blanket, making faint noises as if she were secretly eating something, chewing on something in her mouth.

Finally, she even let out a small burp.

At the sword forging shop, Liu Xianyang hadn't officially become Master Ruan's disciple yet, but everyone could see that Master Ruan held the tall young man in high regard. Otherwise, he wouldn't be personally teaching him how to forge sword strips hand-in-hand. Not just anyone could enter that row of sword forging rooms now.

During the noon break, a young man who used to work in a porcelain kiln came up to Liu Xianyang, saying someone was looking for him. He winked playfully and said it was a beautiful woman, even more attractive than the ladies on Fulu Street, who was looking for Liu Xianyang.

Liu Xianyang followed him with a grin, but his heart sank.

As expected, by a well stood a slender woman. Many strong young men were digging and moving earth around her, working with unusual vigor.

As the Little Master Song Jixin disdained, Liu Xianyang was indeed a bumpkin. However, whether a woman was beautiful or not had nothing to do with whether one had studied or was literate. Perhaps the tall young man didn't know that among the vague concept of beauty, there was a quality called charm, especially the kind that was dignified yet inwardly alluring, which was particularly captivating.

If one were to break down the character "媚" (mèi), it originally meant a woman who paints her eyebrows.

The lady before him, whose name and background were unknown, had eyebrows as delicate as a moth's antennae, and a forehead like a cicada's—broad, square, smooth, and full.

Today, she came alone. She didn't have the air of someone coming to demand an explanation, nor did she seem to be trying to bully him. Liu Xianyang was slightly relieved.

However, no matter how beautiful this elegant and noble lady's face was, Liu Xianyang wouldn't deny that in the past, he might have whistled at her if he encountered her on the street. But that didn't mean Liu Xianyang would be tempted. The woman the tall young man admired was the maidservant from Mud Bottle Alley before, and she still was, and always would be.

Liu Xianyang led the beautiful woman towards the stream, his tone firm. "Madam, if you're here to persuade me to sell you that family heirloom, I advise you not to open your mouth."

The woman smiled charmingly. "Don't rush to refuse. Let me explain the pros and cons, and then you can make your decision."

The tall young man's expression remained unchanged. He pretended to be relaxed, but his heart sank to the bottom.

In the distance, the young girl squatted on the threshold of a sword forging room, holding a bowl of rice. The white rice was piled high, forming a peak that rose above the rim of the large white bowl. After devouring the "mountain," she saw the braised pork belly she had hidden within, and her entire being radiated happiness. Secretly turning her back to the man who was slowly eating on the other end of the threshold, she asked, "Dad, aren't you going to do something about that outsider woman?"

The man replied gruffly, "No."

The green-clothed girl worried, "He's going to be your first disciple here. Aren't you afraid he'll go astray?"

The man said calmly, "Then that kid just doesn't have the fortune."

The girl asked doubtfully, "Dad, don't you feel it's a pity?"

For example, when she saw the delicious and exquisite pastries in the shop, it was one thing to not have money. But if she had money, bought one, and then accidentally dropped it on the ground, she deserved to be struck by lightning.

The man answered a question with a non-sequitur. "Is the braised pork belly tasty?"

The girl subconsciously nodded happily, "Delicious, delicious!"

The girl suddenly tensed up. Her father had issued a "decree" that she could only have one meat dish a day. So, she pretended to have only a bowl of plain white rice, hiding the braised pork belly inside. This was so she could openly have a meat dish in the evening.

The girl turned around awkwardly, holding up the white bowl high, and said righteously, "There's only one piece! I didn't break any rules!"

The man chuckled and asked, "Then, will you feel regret if you can't eat that piece of braised pork belly hidden at the bottom of the bowl?"

The girl's mouth slightly opened, and she felt as if she had been struck by lightning, her heart turning to ash.

The man added salt to his own daughter's wound. "If you hadn't pried about Liu Xianyang, Dad would have just turned a blind eye."

The young girl remained silent, eating her braised pork belly in small bites, looking like she'd be a thrifty homemaker in the future.

After finishing his meal, the man looked towards the woman and the youth by the stream and said, "This kid, until he reaches the Middle Five Realms, I won't concern myself with his life or death. Even if he reaches the Middle Five Realms, I'll only care once or twice, definitely not more than that. Things shouldn't go beyond three chances. Fortune and misfortune have no set gate; they are self-invited."

The young girl pouted, "Why won't you care?!"

The man retorted, "Scholars take students, martial artists take disciples, it's not like gangs recruiting low-level thugs, thinking they can argue or fight with others later by relying on their numbers. In the end, in my eyes, whether it's a teacher-student relationship or master-disciple, they are kindred spirits. Besides, Liu Xianyang isn't even my disciple yet."

The young girl said nothing.

The man sighed, "Silly daughter, just looking at this Great Li Dynasty, tucked away in a corner, do you know how many people there are? Over twenty million households! With so many people in the world, so many troublesome matters, can you manage them all? I will take over the town from Qi Jingchun in the next sixty years. You should stop wandering around all day and focus on forging and practicing swordsmanship here at the sword furnace. Otherwise, if you cause trouble, will I manage it or not?"

Before the man could finish speaking, the girl blurted out, "I don't need you to."

Her words almost made the man spit blood, their power no less than a certain Sword Immortal's ultimate move.

The man truly wanted to bang on this silly daughter's stubborn head. Your affairs, how can I not manage them?

The man felt a pang of sadness.

The young girl put on a look of "shock," "Huh? How did another piece of braised pork belly appear at the bottom of the bowl? Oh well, I've finished my share for today. I'll give it to you, Dad?"

The man didn't need to turn his head to feel the girl's clumsy acting. He said helplessly, "Forget it, you eat it. I'll consider you only ate one piece of braised pork belly today. Remember to practice blacksmithing this afternoon, don't be lazy again."

This time, the girl's gratitude was genuine, "Dad, you're so good!"

The man laughed, annoyed, "It's the braised pork belly that's good, right?"

The young girl lowered her head, took a mouthful of rice, and said softly, "Dad is good too."

The man kept a straight face, barely suppressing a smile. He thought for a moment, deciding that having a daughter was indeed a good thing.

Suddenly, a voice sounded in his ear, "Dad, can I have another piece tonight? Two pieces and three pieces aren't that different, right? If you don't say anything, I'll take it as a yes, okay?"

The young girl ran away with lightning speed.

The last sentence was spoken by the girl only after she had already run quite a distance.

The man rubbed his cheeks and muttered to himself, "My Xiuxiu lives to eat."

After delivering letters by weaving through streets and alleys, Chen Ping'an bought some breakfast and delivered it to Miss Ning in Mud Bottle Alley, then began to expertly prepare medicine.

Ning Yao was wearing a brand-new dark green robe today, neat and sharp. She already had an heroic aura, and with this attire and the long saber at her waist, she possessed more nobility than the rich young masters from Fulu Street or Taoye Lane.

Ning Yao hesitated for a moment, "For now, if you truly want to study that Mountain Shaking Manual, before learning the fist postures, you need to do three things: standing meditation, walking meditation, and sleeping meditation. The last one is more about the accumulation in acupoints and the circulation of breath, difficult to describe in words, so we'll leave it for now. As for the first two, you don't need to worry too much about talent or aptitude. Just honestly follow the postures depicted in the fist manual, and persist for a long time. It will eventually be useful. Even if it can't make you enter the hall of martial arts, strengthening your body and prolonging your life is not impossible."

Chen Ping'an voiced an idea, "Is practicing walking meditation in the stream also okay?"

Ning Yao nodded, "Of course. Start at knee-deep, then waist-deep, and finally neck-deep."

Chen Ping'an followed up on her words, "Isn't the last one being completely submerged in water?"

Ning Yao sneered, "What, you want to practice holding your breath underwater and become a thousand-year turtle, ten-thousand-year tortoise?"

Chen Ping'an mumbled and fell silent.

Ning Yao thought for a moment, "Come, I'll demonstrate walking meditation for you. Watch carefully!"

Ning Yao asked Chen Ping'an to move the table aside, then took six steps forward. Her steps were three small and one big. With the last step, she stomped down heavily, and the dirt floor of the entire house seemed to emit a muffled tremor.

The young girl completed it in one go.

It seemed effortless, yet it flowed like water, giving the straw-sandaled youth an indescribable feeling.

It was like a waterfall cascading down, natural and inevitable, containing immense power. It was also like a leaf spinning in a stream, perfectly round and extremely gentle.

Everything was correct, but Chen Ping'an only understood what to do, not why.

Seeing the boy's bewildered expression, Ning Yao returned to her original position and demonstrated again.

Ning Yao stood still, turned her head, and asked, "Did you see clearly? Try it."

Chen Ping'an took a deep breath and attempted it.

He swayed precariously, like a drunkenard.

Chen Ping'an stood in place, scratching his head, clearly feeling a bit ridiculous himself.

Ning Yao's face darkened, and she said sternly, "Again!"

After three attempts, Chen Ping'an had improved slightly, but Ning Yao's face was already as gloomy as if a storm was about to break.

She couldn't imagine how there could be such an idiot in the world as Chen Ping'an, so lacking in comprehension for martial arts, with such terrible talent!

There was no other way.

Ning Yao was someone who had stood at the pinnacle of the Sword Dao since childhood. Her background, aptitude, talent, and insight were all extraordinary.

Therefore, the girl simply couldn't understand how people at the foot of the mountain, tens of thousands of miles away from her, climbed step by step, nor could she understand why those people stumbled so much.

Finally, at her wit's end, fearing she might lose her temper and draw her sword, Ning Yao had an idea. She patted the straw-sandaled youth's shoulder and managed to console him, "Chen Ping'an, reading a book a hundred times reveals its meaning; martial arts are the same. If you practice a fist technique tens of thousands of times and don't get the feel for it, then do hundreds of thousands, or a million! Go pick up your stones. The slow bird flies first. Don't be discouraged, take your time, and practice this walking meditation repeatedly in the stream."

Chen Ping'an thought, That makes sense.

He remembered something Song Jixin had said before, which was similar to Miss Ning's "reading a book a hundred times": "Read ten thousand scrolls, and write as if divinely inspired."

However, what the boy found more convincing was Miss Ning's statement that if tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands weren't enough, then do it a million times.

Chen Ping'an smiled and ran out of Mud Bottle Alley, silently reciting "three small, one big" along the way, imitating Ning Yao's posture from memory.

In his heart, the straw-sandaled youth told himself the "truth": perhaps he would achieve basic mastery of the fist technique after practicing a million times.

Therefore, the starting point for practicing the fist technique in this "Mountain Shaking Manual" was a million repetitions. Only after that would he, Chen Ping'an, be qualified to talk about anything else.

Ning Yao sat alone on the threshold, muttering to herself, "Why do I feel like I've dug a huge pit? Will that guy be able to climb out?"