The conversations atop the lone peak were naturally unknown to Wang Anfeng. The chains and iron buckets on his body weighed at least two hundred pounds in total. As he walked, part of the chains dragged along the ground, scraping two deeply visible trails into the steps, making their weight plain to see.
Without Internal force, and with the mountain paths of Shaoshi Mountain so steep and towering, by the time he found the Qing River at the foot of the mountain, Wang Anfeng was already drenched in sweat. The two iron buckets were enormous and extremely heavy, yet their capacity was pitifully small. Compared to water buckets, they looked more like two huge hammers with a pair of hollows casually gouged into them for carrying water.
He struggled to fill them, but they held less than twenty pounds of water altogether. Thinking of that terrifying figure of ten thousand pounds, the youth gritted his teeth, turned around, and shakily climbed the stone steps. Going downhill, the chains wrapped around him had been like a mountain pressing down on his back; going uphill, it was as though a wild bull were dragging him from behind. The brute force pressed upon the One Zen Skill in his body, which instead began striking against his flesh, blood, and meridians, making the unbearable itching grow ever worse and filling him with pain.
He spent twice as long climbing back up as he had spent going down.
At the place where he often practiced his punches, ten enormous water jars had appeared. Stone steps led up beside them, clearly meant for the ten thousand pounds of water he was supposed to carry. Wang Anfeng gritted his teeth and carefully stepped onto the absurdly narrow stone steps. If he fell with all this weight on him, he would probably have to lie in bed for at least a month. Thus, even though his entire body was bound by chains, every nerve from head to toe was stretched taut.
Even the contraction and exertion of every muscle in his feet as they landed on the steps had never been so clear. He cautiously turned the shoulder pole and poured the pitifully small amount of river water into a jar, barely wetting its bottom. He let out a soft breath and turned to pour the clean water from the other side, but the two sides were unevenly weighted. He lost his balance, and because he had only just relaxed after releasing that breath, his nerves slackened as well. His body tilted, and he toppled straight down.
Wang Anfeng's heart abruptly stopped. With this kind of weight and no Internal force protecting him, he had studied a little medicine and knew exactly what fate awaited him. Yet just as he was about to smash into the ground, a palm pressed against his back and effortlessly caught the several hundred pounds of weight, without the slightest tremor. The chains clashed with a crisp ringing that shuddered through the night.
Only then did Wang Anfeng's heart begin to race. He instinctively said, "Thank you, Master," and opened his eyes, only to see a sharp, icy face. His expression froze slightly. The middle-aged scholar had already spoken in a cold voice.
"Every form of close-quarters combat places footwork first. Shaolin emphasizes External martial arts and places even greater importance on control of the body's muscles. Your ability is an outright disgrace to the Shaolin patriarchs."
Wang Anfeng froze slightly. Looking at the stern scholar who had saved him, he murmured in disbelief:
"Mr. Ying...?"
"Hmph. Did winning a small competition make you think you were something special?"
"You defeated them not because you were strong, but because those opponents were too weak. Down the mountain. Carry water!"
Wang Anfeng was just about to offer his thanks when he heard a cold snort. The palm behind him vanished as though it had never existed, and he crashed heavily to the ground together with the chains and iron buckets. Since the height was only a few dozen centimeters, he was not seriously hurt, but the pain still made him bare his teeth. The other bucket flipped over and landed directly on his head. As his forehead throbbed, the water inside splashed all over him, and the night wind made the chill even sharper.
Only after lying there for more than ten minutes did Wang Anfeng struggle to rise. He was not foolish. From Mr. Ying's words just now, he had already realized that this punishment certainly contained a purpose for cultivation. At least so far, it had not truly harmed him; otherwise, his master would never have stood by and watched.
Thinking of this, he exhaled a deep breath of stale air, gritted his teeth again, and set out along the mountain path to carry water.
He went up and down again and again. Ten whole shichen passed. By the time the sky brightened and the chanting of sutras and Buddhist hymns could already be heard throughout Shaolin, Wang Anfeng's staggering figure finally appeared at the end of the mountain path. With every step, sweat dripped down and spattered the road in mottled stains. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes shifted between blankness and struggle. Each step took longer than the last, and the final hundred stairs alone took him half a shichen.
A young bird with goose-yellow feathers chirped and landed on an iron bucket. Wang Anfeng's body trembled slightly before he fell straight to the side. The focus finally vanished from his eyes entirely. The middle-aged scholar, who was in the middle of placing a piece, narrowed his eyes and sneered.
"Yuan Ci, you've lost this game again."
The monk across from him chuckled and placed a piece. In an impossible position, he turned the game around and captured the head of one of the scholar's dragons. He raised one hand upright and looked up at the slightly stunned Mr. Ying.
"No..."
Thud!
An extremely heavy footstep thundered out, accompanied by a struggling roar. Mr. Ying's pupils contracted, and he abruptly looked up. At the instant the youth, already at his limit, landed, his right fist smashed heavily into the bluestone, propping up his body. His eyes were wide with fury. The force was so great that the knuckles of his right fist had split open, blood dripping down, yet he still refused to release the shoulder pole in his hands.
The birds scattered in alarm. Wang Anfeng, his clothes soaked through, struggled to his feet and climbed the stone steps one step at a time. Relying on instinct, he poured the scant remaining river water into the water jar.
The youth's not especially tall body blocked the sunlight, casting a heavy shadow over the slightly opened eyes of Mr. Ying. The monk before him reached over the chessboard and gathered up all the black dragon stones, saying slowly:
"You're the one who lost."
Clatter, clatter—
The chains continued to ring clearly. Wang Anfeng staggered down, turned, and walked toward the mountain path. But after taking just one step, his brown eyes had already dimmed completely. His legs gave way, and the pair of iron buckets slipped from his hands. The youth's pupils widened slightly as he reached out to catch them.
"Not... enough..."
Thump!
Before the iron buckets could hit the ground, Wang Anfeng's body had already crashed heavily down. Only then did the buckets fall, striking the ground with a somewhat shrill clang. Wang Anfeng's eyes were slightly open, but his vision was uncontrollably darkening. He raised his hand and desperately reached toward the iron buckets.
"Not... enough. I have to... go back..."
"Ten thousand pounds..."
His voice cut off abruptly. His vision sank into absolute silence. His right hand fell limply, and blood flowed from his split knuckles, only to be washed thin by the clean water scattered across the ground.
The sound of fluttering robes exploded through the air. Yuan Ci appeared beside Wang Anfeng like the wind, raised a hand to take his pulse, and only then did his tense expression relax.
"He's exhausted..."
As he spoke, he looked toward his friend nearby. But the latter already wore a stern expression and moved his fingers like flying birds, striking several major acupoints on Wang Anfeng's body in rapid succession. Wang Anfeng's lips parted slightly, and in the blink of an eye, a pill was flicked into his mouth. It melted upon entry and sank into his body. Only then did Mr. Ying rise, flick his sleeve, and say coldly:
"Idiot. Even more foolish than you!"
"Since he wants to go back so badly, let him go back. He has broken through his limits several times already. If he keeps training, even pills won't let his body hold out. Give him three times the usual amount of Qi Gathering Pills, and make him practice Shaolin Long Fist for three shichen every day while carrying these chains."
"Make him wear the chains even while sleeping and bathing. Hmph. He spilled water all along the way, and after ten shichen today, he carried up less than thirty pounds. At this rate, it'll take him at least a year to complete this punishment!"
Yuan Ci used Internal force to flush away the soreness in Wang Anfeng's muscles. Hearing this, he frowned.
"If you don't increase the weight, it won't take him a year."
The middle-aged scholar let out a cold laugh.
"You needn't worry. I have my own plans. He is your disciple, after all. I won't go too far."
Yuan Ci felt slightly relieved, only to hear him say in an offhand tone:
"This set of chains weighs at most three thousand pounds."
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