The Gate of Opening

The porridge was fragrant, not hot at all, just the right temperature. Yu Fu had blown on it outside for a long time before the scalding porridge cooled down. This was who knows how many bowls. The porridge was very smooth, and Chang'an found it delicious.

Ten days later, Chang'an emerged from the bathtub, his wounds healed and as good as new. However, he had become even fatter, with a sickly plumpness, unable to muster any strength.

His internal energy had been completely dissipated, leaving not a trace. His external martial arts had also regressed significantly.

Chang'an bitterly realized that he had been completely stripped back to his original form, all the skills he had painstakingly trained since childhood were gone.

During the two years when Chang'an's name was renowned, he had many dreams. For example, joining a Qi Gong sect like the Dragon Yang Sect and striving to cultivate Qi Gong. Being able to cultivate a Qi Gong secret manual was a very common and widespread dream in the martial world, and Chang'an was no exception. Moreover, even if he joined a major sect, if his talent wasn't outstanding, he might not have the chance to cultivate it. Another dream was to establish a security escort agency, becoming the boss and chief escort himself. He loved traveling all over the country and couldn't stay still. There were also dreams of leading troops as a general, and a whole mess of other chaotic aspirations.

But now, it all seemed a little distant.

He felt very agitated.

In the evening, Yu Fu accompanied him to watch the stars by the soapberry tree, gazing at the deep, sapphire-blue night sky. He slowly began to calm down, slowly shifting his gaze, and looking at Yu Fu, who was silently giving him a massage, he asked, "Fu'er, when you saw me for the first time after I came back, weren't you surprised?"

Yu Fu let out a surprised hum and said softly, "You got fatter, but your eyes haven't changed. I could tell at a glance. Eyes are the windows to the heart; your gaze is still as bright as it was before, so I wasn't surprised. I recognized you immediately."

Chang'an said, "What about others? I've become so fat, most people shouldn't be able to recognize me."

Yu Fu said cautiously, "No one would believe that Ning Family's Chang'an would turn into a fat man! People will only remember the majestic and heroic Chang'an."

Chang'an nodded and murmured, "But why weren't Liu Xuanfeng, Shopkeeper Wang, and Ghost Shadow surprised at all?! It was that Old Liu back then who seemed a little unusual."

Yu Fu said casually, "Those people probably knew about your situation, and they all came with ill intentions. Old Liu was an outsider, so he was surprised."

Chang'an gave a self-deprecating smile, "Lu Jing swore before our duel that he wouldn't leak a single piece of information, or he'd be struck by lightning. It seems this was all a deception."

Yu Fu said, "Next time, you'll cripple Lu Jing in front of everyone and get your revenge. If the heavens don't strike him, you'll act on behalf of heaven!"

Chang'an smiled.

Now, only he himself knew how weak he was, not even as strong as a ten-year-old child. Having Yu Fu by his side made him feel at ease, filled with the happiness of surviving a disaster.

The old woman suddenly shuffled into the courtyard, chuckling, "This old woman isn't disturbing you two lovebirds talking intimately, are she!"

Yu Fu lowered her head in embarrassment. Chang'an, naturally, smiled and shook his head, "Grandma, is there something you need?" When she had nothing to do, Grandma rarely spoke, either busy with housework or quietly observing Chang'an with a kind smile.

Both Yu Fu and Chang'an called the old woman Grandma. The old woman was very happy to hear this, smiling so wide her eyes crinkled.

Grandma said kindly, "It's good that I'm not disturbing you. The Old Man wants to see you. He's not feeling well, but he insists you can talk to him! Go into the inner room; he wants to have a few words with you."

Grandma's smile was mysterious.

Chang'an got up, his steps a little unsteady, and walked into the room whose doors and windows were always closed and covered with thick curtains. He was also extremely curious. Yu Fu had said this room was only opened once every three days for Grandma to bring food, a bowl of white porridge. Chang'an couldn't believe a bowl of porridge could last three days; he'd starve to death if it went on like this.

As Chang'an pushed the door open and stepped inside, the thick door creaked shut. A series of harsh coughs echoed from all directions, making Chang'an's heart flutter. The coughing was so alarming, it sounded like the person was on the verge of death at any moment. The room was pitch black, with no lights. Chang'an vaguely saw a pair of dim eyes and a white beard. The Old Man was bald, his scalp seeming to reflect light in the darkness, giving off a sheen.

"Ning Chang'an?"

As soon as the Old Man's coughing stopped, he asked, his voice deep.

Chang'an's heart leaped. He didn't understand how the mysterious old man knew his real name and didn't answer immediately.

The Old Man coughed a few more times, "Did Yang Qingling and Yang Taiyi give you everything?"

Chang'an was startled and found it even stranger, but he truthfully replied, "They gave me everything." He knew that this old couple was not simple; they were hidden masters, seemingly with a thousand ties to his own past. Otherwise, why would they save him, a stranger, and not just once? There must be something fishy going on.

The Old Man said, "Very good! Come over..." The candelabra in the room quietly lit up, a single flame flickering.

Only then did Chang'an see a bald old man with two rows of burn scars on the top of his head, revealing he had once been a monk. The old man's face was crisscrossed with scars, looking exceptionally ferocious. He sat motionless in a high-backed chair, like a malevolent spirit.

Chang'an blinked and slowly walked forward.

The old man suddenly reached out and pointed at Chang'an's dantian. Chang'an felt a piercing pain and curled into a ball. The old man in front of him hadn't moved at all, yet he had been poked in the dantian with a middle finger. The old man's speed was ten times faster than Grandma's knife.

Although Chang'an's martial arts were completely ruined, his eyesight was still sharp. He was certain he had never seen such swift technique before. That finger strike, though not powerful, was incredibly vicious, causing Chang'an's eyes to water as he hunched over like a ball of flesh. He would rather be cut ten times than be poked by that finger again.

Seeing this, the Old Man said with satisfaction, "Your internal energy is completely depleted, not a trace left. Although Yang Qingling and Yang Taiyi led you astray, it has no effect now. You are like an infant, ready to be reshaped."

Chang'an didn't understand and asked curiously, "Who are you? What are you going to do?" He still couldn't straighten up.

The Old Man's voice was always monotonous and calm, "I should call you Young Master, but your father and I are mortal enemies, so I won't."

Chang'an was even more confused and asked, "Why should you call me Young Master? You are my father's enemy, so why are you saving me?"

The old man said, "I call you Young Master because I am your Ning family's steward. As for saving you! Ning Shengdao is dead, why would I, an elder, bother with a junior like you?"

Chang'an fell silent. This was not the logic of an ordinary person. Anyone who hated someone would usually extend that hatred to their family. But this old man was clearly different; he harbored no hostility towards him.

The old man continued, "Before your father died, he entrusted you to me. In the end, he still felt I was the most trustworthy. He instructed me to teach you martial arts and make you a general to pacify the world. So, your name Chang'an is his dying wish. Now I intend to fulfill that promise and teach you a martial art. Whether you learn it or not is up to you; this old body of mine won't force you!"

Chang'an felt uneasy.

The old man reminded him, "Once you practice this martial art, you will never be able to cultivate any internal energy techniques, Qi Gong techniques, or primal energy techniques again. Even the most supreme divine techniques will be out of your reach."

Chang'an's heart trembled violently. He had never heard of such an overbearing martial art.

The old man continued, "Not only can you not cultivate any techniques, but you also cannot project your strength externally to injure enemies from a distance. It will be no different from external martial arts, relying on the power of fists, feet, and weapons."

Chang'an instinctively asked, "What's so special about this martial art?"

A cold glint flashed in the old man's eyes, "Great strength, high speed, quick reaction, resilient body, and vigorous vitality."

Chang'an's heart was racing uncontrollably. Shock was an inadequate word to describe it. These five points were the five crucial elements of all martial arts. Often, these five could not be achieved simultaneously. Even a martial art that possessed two or three of these elements was considered a priceless treasure. A martial art that possessed all five would likely surpass even primal energy techniques.

A warmth spread through Chang'an's heart. Perhaps it was because Lu Jing had utterly defeated him with his external martial arts, or perhaps it was the old man's incredibly potent finger strike. Without hesitation, he agreed, "I'll learn!"

The old man fell silent, seemingly giving Chang'an time to reconsider. He closed his eyes.

Chang'an's face was resolute, showing no intention of changing his decision.

The old man waited for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, his eyes closed. Finally, he said, "I will now teach you the mental cultivation technique. From this day forward, you shall cultivate it with all your heart."

Chang'an was astonished. "Mental cultivation technique?!" External martial arts only had stances and forms; they didn't have mental cultivation techniques. How could he not be surprised? Only then did he realize this wasn't an external martial art.

The old man had already begun to speak, sentence by sentence. His eyes suddenly snapped open, revealing streaks of bloody, fierce light.

Chang'an was startled and quickly listened intently. He heard it three times in a row, memorizing it.

The old man had Chang'an recite it back. Once he confirmed it was correct, he cautioned, "Do not teach it to others!" and fell silent, refusing to speak another word. Chang'an pondered this, gradually becoming engrossed. The light in the room flickered and then returned to darkness.

Chang'an walked out of the room without realizing it, his forehead covered in sweat. He felt a surge of heat flowing through his entire body. He had only recited the mental cultivation technique a few times and was secretly comprehending it, yet his body had already undergone changes.

The mental cultivation technique occasionally contained phrases like "Netherworld," "Underworld," "Spirit Devourer," and "King Yama's Unmoving Stance," none of which boded well. The more Chang'an pondered it, the more he felt the technique was unfathomably mysterious, profoundly difficult, with every word a gem, a crystallization of wisdom, and a snatch of essence from creation. The faint, subtle malevolence and cunning within it caused Chang'an's heart to tremble involuntarily.

This mental cultivation technique was called the Three Pure Nine Nether Wonderful Dharma Lotus Heart Sutra. Chang'an speculated it originated from Tianchan Temple. The old man was enigmatic, but from the tonsure scar on the crown of his head, Chang'an deduced it matched the ordination method used at Tianchan Temple. He had a rough guess, but couldn't verify it.

Since it came from a Buddhist sect, he felt at ease.

Chang'an silently circulated the Three Pure Nine Nether Wonderful Dharma Lotus Heart Sutra, gradually becoming engrossed. He stood dazed beneath the soapberry tree, and three days passed without him realizing it.

After three days, Chang'an opened his eyes. Shock registered in his gaze as he felt a hidden power filling his body like an surging undercurrent. He clenched his fist tightly, and a faint sound of air explosion could be heard.