Horizontal and Vertical Splits

"Oh, oh."

Lu Ming had not expected the old man before him, who looked as though he had one foot in the grave, to be a master hiding his true abilities.

But he soon accepted it. In Shuofeng City, even a peddler who wandered the streets was no ordinary person.

Otherwise, how could one explain how they could shoulder a load of over a hundred jin and still move like the wind through dense crowds?

"I never expected your kung fu to be so formidable, Uncle Zhao."

Lu Ming approached with the water bucket.

"I'm old."

Old Man Zhao said little else.

He poured the water in his hands into Lu Ming's bucket.

"Thank you, sir."

Lu Ming thanked him.

Old Man Zhao shook his hand. "All right, hurry back and keep cleaning up."

Lu Ming did not stand on ceremony. He gave a grunt and struggled back with the bucket brimming with water.

He found that a bucket of water was much heavier than a sack of rice and quite laborious to carry. Still, he believed that if it were a bucket of money, no matter how heavy it was, he would be able to carry it at a flying pace.

"What an interesting little lad."

Watching Lu Ming's retreating back, Old Man Zhao smiled and stroked his beard before continuing to draw water.

When Lu Ming returned to the courtyard, he began cleaning the kitchen, starting with the pots, bowls, ladles, and basins, then moving on to the stove, table, and chairs.

After working for several hours and fetching water several more times, he finally finished cleaning everything.

He was now so hungry that his chest was sticking to his back. Seeing the spotless kitchen, he hurriedly scooped out a bowl of rice. He planned to use the meat bones he had bought cheaply from the butcher's stall to cook a pot of meat porridge.

There was also a pile of ready firewood behind the stove, saving him quite a bit of trouble.

After quickly lighting the fire, Lu Ming began boiling the meat bones.

He briefly blanched them, then washed the rice. By the time he had finished washing it, the bones were done blanching. He fished them out, and it was time to cook the porridge.

When it was nearly done, Lu Ming added the blanched meat bones and some salt.

Before long, the fragrance filled the air.

"It's finally done."

While the porridge cooked, Lu Ming had tidied up the room as well. The moment he smelled the aroma, he hurried over.

Unable to wait any longer, he ladled out a large, brimming bowl and began gulping it down.

It was scalding hot.

But hunger would not let him care. It did not take long for him to finish the bowl.

Then he served himself another bowl.

This time, he included the meat bones.

He did not drink as quickly this time. Instead, he came to the doorway and sat on the threshold, slowly savoring the porridge while watching the sunset outside.

The day passed by just like that.

"Little lad, gnawing on bones?"

A voice suddenly rang out. It was Old Man Zhao, strolling over with his hands clasped behind his back.

Lu Ming hurriedly rose. "Yes, Uncle Zhao. Have you eaten?"

"I have. I came out for a stroll to digest my food. Go on eating."

After passing the fence surrounding the courtyard, Old Man Zhao waved his hand and vanished around the corner of the right-side wing room in the blink of an eye.

Seeing this, Lu Ming sat back down and continued drinking porridge and gnawing bones. Only when his belly was swollen full did he reluctantly stop.

Seeing that it had grown dark outside, he washed up briefly and eagerly burrowed into his room.

He planned to continue cultivating.

Accompanied by the chirping of insects outside, he soon entered a meditative state once more.

Before long, that familiar sensation arose in his abdomen again.

He could clearly feel streams of energy constantly being produced.

After an unknown amount of time, hunger forced Lu Ming out of his cultivation state again. Fortunately, he had prepared in advance and saved a bowl of meat porridge.

"The porridge hasn't completely cooled yet. Looks like I wasn't cultivating for very long."

Feeling the warmth of the porridge, Lu Ming shook his head helplessly.

At this rate of consumption, that sack of rice would not last the month or so he had originally estimated.

But he felt he could hold on a while longer. Once he cultivated the Heavenly Saber Art to a certain level, he could leave the city to hunt demon beasts, and his life would improve.

After hastily finishing the meat porridge, Lu Ming returned to the bed and began examining the results of this cultivation session.

After checking carefully, he discovered that although he had still cultivated only briefly, his inner qi had grown considerably—roughly three times what it had been before.

Moreover, he could now mobilize it in a simple manner. As his inner qi moved, he instantly felt a surge of strength fill him.

"This inner qi really is wondrous. I'll stop here for today."

Lu Ming did not continue cultivating. His body was still weak, and he could not rush things.

So after testing it out for a while, he went straight to sleep.

The next day, Lu Ming woke early. After washing up, he lit the fire and cooked the porridge, then took advantage of the time to head into the courtyard.

He planned to do some recovery exercises from his previous life, such as radio calisthenics.

As for saber techniques, he was not in a hurry to practice them yet.

After all, this body had not yet recovered to a normal condition and was not suited for strenuous exercise.

He would recuperate for a while first.

Thus, three days quickly passed.

During those three days, aside from cultivating inner qi, Lu Ming simply did radio calisthenics.

After exercising for some time, coupled with ample food and sleep, the sallow look on his face finally faded, and a hint of rosiness returned.

Though he had not yet reached a normal person's level, he could increase the intensity of his exercise a little.

After thinking carefully, Lu Ming decided that he would next practice the Eight Extremes Fist he had learned in his previous life.

Ever since he had learned that set of fist techniques in his previous life, he had practiced it every day for over ten years. It was already etched into his bones.

Now, it was perfect for strengthening his body.

"Well now, little lad, no more hopping about? You've switched to practicing fist techniques?"

Lu Ming had just assumed his opening stance when Old Man Zhao appeared. He had long since grown used to this old man wandering around at all hours, so he merely replied:

"A family-inherited foundation establishment fist art, for tempering the body."

"Oh? You wouldn't mind letting this old man take a look, would you?"

Old Man Zhao stopped, looking greatly interested.

"Then I'll make a fool of myself."

Lu Ming did not mind. Eight Extremes Fist was merely an ordinary set of fist techniques. Compared to the martial arts of this world, it did not even have qi circulation routes, so he was not afraid of anyone coveting it.

Besides, even if he did mind, the fence around the courtyard would not be able to stop Old Man Zhao.

"It's fine. Just practice as you normally would."

Old Man Zhao waved his hand.

Lu Ming did not delay and began performing the fist techniques.

Gathering spirit and regulating breath, the Limitless Stance; stepping forward with a hammer strike, shaking heaven and earth.

Twin Rams Press Elbows, unknown to men; both hands cupped together in a fist salute.

Spreading the hard-work stance, invincible; drawing the bow and pinching the crown, a nest-crushing cannon.

He knew every move intimately, yet when he performed them, he was crooked and unsteady.

The truth was that this body was terribly stiff, and some movements could not be executed properly. For example, with a single step forward, he could not fully spread his legs apart.

After performing a few more forms, he truly could not continue and stopped.

"Why did you stop?"

Old Man Zhao asked with a smile.

Lu Ming explained helplessly, "My body is too stiff. I plan to stretch my tendons and bones first."

"Not a bad idea. The fist art is decent too, following a fierce and forceful path. But it seems to be an external fist art without qi circulation routes."

Old Man Zhao stroked his beard as he gave his assessment.

Lu Ming was not surprised that the old man could see that. Just as he was about to speak, Old Man Zhao continued:

"But you must remember: stretching the tendons and bones can easily injure the body. And since you have no Spiritual Medicine to aid recovery, do not overdo it."

Lu Ming had naturally considered that, but he still thanked him.

"Thank you for the reminder, sir. I'll remember it."

"Mhm. Then practice slowly."

Old Man Zhao did not linger any longer and strolled around the corner in the blink of an eye.

Seeing this, Lu Ming began carrying out his plan, stretching his tendons and bones.

To practice martial arts, one had to practice skill, and the foundation of skill lay in the waist. For the waist to be stable, the lower body had to be stable—the legs.

That was what the old master who had taught him Eight Extremes Fist had told him.

So he planned to begin by opening his hips, at the very least mastering both horizontal and vertical splits.

That would improve his flexibility considerably.

This would not excessively damage his body. He had tried it in his previous life; although it felt as though he were being torn apart for a while, he would slowly recover naturally.

Now that he was poor as a church mouse, this was all he could do for the time being.

Thus, Lu Ming sank into a state of gritting his teeth and enduring.