Chapter 7

The porridge was fragrant, not hot at all, just the right temperature. Yu Fu had blown on it outside for a long while before cooling the steaming porridge down. Chang'an had no idea how many bowls this was already. The porridge was soft and smooth, and he found it delicious.

Ten days later, Chang'an climbed out of the bath barrel. The wounds on his body had healed completely, leaving him as good as new. Yet he had grown even fatter—bloated with false flesh, without a shred of strength in his body.

His internal strength had dispersed until not a trace remained, swept clean. Even his external martial arts had regressed severely.

Chang'an bitterly discovered that he had been beaten back to his original form. The martial arts he had painstakingly trained since childhood were all gone.

During the two years when Chang'an's name had been at its peak, he had held many dreams. For instance, joining a Qi Gong sect like the Dragon Yang Sect and striving to cultivate Qi Gong. Being able to cultivate a secret Qi Gong manual was a widespread, common dream in the martial world, and Chang'an was no exception. Yet even after joining a great sect, one might not have the chance to cultivate if one's talent was not outstanding. Or he had dreamed of forming an escort agency, becoming both its owner and chief escort himself. He loved traveling north and south and could never stay idle. There was also leading troops as a general, and a whole heap of other messy dreams.

But now, they all seemed rather far away.

He felt restless and agitated.

That night, Yu Fu accompanied him beneath the soapberry tree to watch the stars, gazing into the deep sapphire night sky. Little by little, he began to calm down. He slowly withdrew his gaze and looked at Yu Fu, who was silently massaging him. "Fu'er, when you first saw me after I came back, weren't you surprised?"

Yu Fu gave a startled hum and said softly, "You were fatter, but your eyes hadn't changed. I could tell at a glance. The eyes lead to the heart. Your gaze was still as bright as before, so I wasn't surprised. I recognized you immediately."

Chang'an said, "What about other people? I'd become that fat. Logically, hardly anyone should have been able to recognize me."

Yu Fu said carefully, "No one would believe that Ning Family's Chang'an could turn into a fat man! People would only remember that valiant, high-spirited Chang'an."

Chang'an nodded and murmured, "But why were Liu Xuanfeng, Shopkeeper Wang, and Ghost Shadow all certainly not surprised?! Only Old Liu back then seemed somewhat strange in expression."

Yu Fu said casually, "Those people probably knew about your condition. Every one of them came with ill intent. Old Liu was an outsider, so he was surprised."

Chang'an gave a self-mocking laugh. "Before his decisive battle with me, Lu Jing swore solemnly that he would never leak even the slightest bit of news, or else Heaven would strike him with five thunderbolts. It seemed this was a lie."

Yu Fu said, "Next time, cripple Lu Jing in front of everyone and avenge yourself fiercely. If heavenly lightning won't strike him down, then you can uphold justice on Heaven's behalf!"

Chang'an smiled.

How weak he was now, perhaps only he himself knew. He was not even the equal of a ten-year-old child. With Yu Fu by his side, he felt at ease, his heart filled with the happiness of having survived a great calamity.

The old woman suddenly shuffled into the courtyard and chuckled. "This old woman hasn't disturbed you young lovebirds having a heart-to-heart, has she?"

Yu Fu lowered her head in embarrassment. Chang'an, meanwhile, took it as a matter of course. Smiling, he shook his head. "Grandma, is there something you need?" When there was nothing to do, Grandma rarely spoke. She either lowered her head to do housework or quietly studied Chang'an with a kindly expression.

Both Yu Fu and Chang'an called the old woman Grandma. She was delighted to hear it and smiled so broadly that her mouth would not close.

Grandma said kindly, "Good, then I haven't disturbed you. The old man wants to see you. His spirits aren't very good, yet he insists that you're someone he can talk to! Go to the inner room. He wants to say a few words to you."

Grandma's smile was mysterious.

Chang'an rose to his feet and, his steps somewhat unsteady, walked into the room whose doors and windows were always shut tight behind heavy curtains. He was especially curious as well. Yu Fu had said the room was opened only once every three days, when Grandma brought food in—a bowl of plain porridge. Chang'an could not believe that one bowl of plain porridge could last three days. If this continued, someone would starve to death sooner or later.

The moment Chang'an pushed open the door and stepped inside, the heavy door creaked shut behind him. A string of harsh coughs sounded through the room, seeming to come from all directions, making Chang'an's heart tighten. The coughing was truly alarming, as though the man might breathe his last at any moment. No lamp had been lit in the room; it was pitch-black. Chang'an vaguely saw a pair of dim eyes and a white beard. The old man had no hair at all, and even his scalp seemed to gleam in the darkness.

"Ning Chang'an?"

Once the old man's coughing ceased, he asked in a low voice.

Chang'an's heart jolted. He did not understand how this unfathomably mysterious old man knew his true name, and for a moment, he did not answer.

The old man coughed a few more times. "Did Yang Qingling and Yang Taiyi give you everything?"

Chang'an was startled. He found it even stranger, but answered truthfully, "They gave me everything." He knew this elderly couple was far from ordinary. They were reclusive masters, seemingly linked to his background by countless threads. Otherwise, why would they save him when they were neither kin nor friends—and more than once at that? Where something was strange, there had to be a demon at work.

The old man said, "Excellent! Come here..." The candlestick in the room quietly lit up, a small flame flickering.

Only then did Chang'an see a bald old man with two rows of burn scars on his scalp. He had once been a monk. Scars crisscrossed the old man's face, making him look exceptionally ferocious. He sat rigidly in a high-backed chair, motionless as a fiendish deity.

Chang'an froze, then slowly stepped forward.

The old man suddenly pointed a finger at Chang'an's dantian. Chang'an felt a piercing pain drill into him, and his body curled into a ball. The old man before him had not appeared to move at all, yet a middle finger had indeed struck his dantian. The old man's speed was ten times faster than even Grandma's knife.

Though Chang'an's martial arts had been completely ruined, his eyesight was still sharp. He was certain that he had never seen such swift finger work before. That finger did not carry much force, yet it was vicious to the extreme. The pain made tears nearly spill from Chang'an's eyes as he bent over, curled into a ball of flesh. He would rather take ten knife wounds than suffer another touch of that finger.

Seeing this, the old man said in satisfaction, "All your internal strength has been exhausted. Not a shred remains. Those two old fools, Yang Qingling and Yang Taiyi, led you astray, but now it no longer affects you in the slightest. You are like an infant now. You can be remolded anew."

Chang'an did not understand. "Who are you? What are you going to do?" Even now, he could not straighten his back.

The old man's voice remained flat and calm. "I should call you Young Master, but your father and I were mortal enemies, so I won't."

Chang'an was even more baffled. "Why should you call me Young Master? You are my father's enemy, so why did you save me?"

The old man said, "I should call you Young Master because I am the steward of your Ning family. As for saving you—Ning Shengdao is already dead. Why should I hold a grudge against a junior like you?"

Chang'an fell silent. This was not the logic of an ordinary person. Once someone hated another, that hatred usually spread to their family. But this old man was clearly different. He bore Chang'an no hostility at all.

The old man continued, "Before your father died, he entrusted you to me. In the end, he still believed I was the one he could trust. He instructed me to teach you martial arts, make you a general, and bring peace to the realm. That is why you are called Chang'an—it was his final wish. Now I will fulfill my promise and teach you a martial art. Whether you learn it or not is your own choice. These old bones of mine will not force you!"

Chang'an felt uneasy.

The old man warned him, "Once you practice this martial art of mine, you will never again be able to cultivate any Internal Energy Cultivation method, Qi Gong method, Essence Cultivation method, or even a peerless Divine Cultivation method. No matter how profound the cultivation method, it will have no fate with you."

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

The old man continued, "Not only will you be unable to cultivate any method, you will also be unable to release force outward to injure enemies from afar. It will be no different from external martial arts, relying on the advantages of fists, feet, weapons, and blades."

Chang'an asked instinctively, "What is exceptional about this martial art?"

A cold gleam flashed through the old man's eyes. "Great strength, swift speed, rapid reactions, a refined body, and vigorous vitality."

Chang'an's heartbeat was in complete disarray. Shock was no longer enough to describe what he felt. Those five points were the five essential keys to all martial arts. One could rarely possess all five at once. Even a superior martial arts secret manual that granted two or three of them was an invaluable treasure. A martial art possessing all five was likely beyond even Essence Cultivation methods.

Heat surged through Chang'an's heart. Perhaps it was because Lu Jing had utterly defeated him using external martial arts, or perhaps it was due to the old man's incomparably powerful finger strike. Without the slightest hesitation, he agreed. "I'll learn!"

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

Chang'an's expression was resolute. He had no intention of changing his decision.

The old man waited for the time it took to drink a cup of tea. With his eyes closed, he finally said, "I will teach you the cultivation method now. From this day onward, simply cultivate it with care."

Chang'an said in surprise, "A cultivation method?!" External martial arts only had techniques; they had no cultivation methods. How could he not be startled? Only then did he realize this was not external martial arts.

The old man had already begun reciting it line by line. His eyes snapped open, brimming with blood-red ferocity.

Chang'an was startled and hurriedly listened. After hearing it three times in succession, he committed it to memory.

The old man had Chang'an recite it once. Only after finding no errors did he give one instruction: "Do not pass it on!" Then he closed his mouth and said nothing more. Chang'an sank into thought, gradually becoming entranced. The light in the room flickered, and darkness returned.

Chang'an walked out of the room without even realizing it. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, and he felt a current of heat flowing through his entire body. He had only recited the cultivation method a few times and quietly pondered it, yet changes had already appeared in his body.

Terms such as "netherworld," "hell," "devour spirits," and "the Nether King remains unmoving" occasionally appeared in the method. They were hardly of a righteous sort. The more Chang'an contemplated it, the more unfathomable, profound, and obscure he found it. Every word was a pearl, the crystallization of wisdom, seizing the essence of creation itself. The faint, elusive evil and strangeness within it made Chang'an's heart tremble involuntarily.

This cultivation method was called the Three Pure Ones Nine Netherworlds Wondrous Dharma Lotus Heart Sutra. Chang'an guessed that it had come from Tianchan Temple. The old man was unfathomably mysterious, but from the ordination scars atop his head, Chang'an judged that they matched Tianchan Temple's ordination method. That was only a rough guess; there was no way to verify it.

Since it came from the Buddhist faith, he relaxed.

Chang'an silently circulated the Three Pure Ones Nine Netherworlds Wondrous Dharma Lotus Heart Sutra and gradually became engrossed in it. He stood blankly beneath the soapberry tree, and before he knew it, three days had passed.

Three days later, Chang'an opened his eyes, shock appearing within them. He sensed a hidden power filling his body like a surging undercurrent. He suddenly clenched his fist, and a faint burst of air sounded.