The night was deep into the third watch. Ye Qingxuan sat on the edge of the bed, inspecting his swollen left arm by the moonlight filtering through the window.
The pain of last night's sand grinding still seemed to linger. The fine bloodstains on his flesh had already scabbed over, but the deep soreness gnawed at him like ants, impossible to drive away.
The image in his mind—the words "Merit: +1"—was as clear as yesterday.
He had thought wrong.
The general principles of the Indestructible Vajra Body emphasized progression layer by layer: cloth training, sand grinding, stone strikes, and club beating. Sand grinding did not merely mean rubbing with one's hands. The cultivation diagram clearly depicted a little figure rolling around in a pile of sand and stones. Using the flesh of the entire body to withstand the grinding force of the sand and stones was the proper method.
Only... this method required far more sand and stones than the two sacks in the corner of the yard. At the very least, he needed to dig a shallow pit and fill it with four or five baskets of sand and stones so that a person could stretch their limbs inside.
Thinking of this, he no longer hesitated.
The night passed without incident.
The next morning, just as the sky began to lighten, Ye Qingxuan rose and quietly left the courtyard.
The alleys of East Street were still shrouded in blue-gray morning mist. The blacksmith shops' furnaces had yet to burn brightly, and only a few feeble wheezes from the bellows drifted through the air.
He arrived at Uncle Zhang's courtyard with practiced familiarity.
The courtyard gate was ajar. Uncle Zhang was squatting inside, taking puff after puff from his dry tobacco pipe, the ember in its bowl flickering between bright and dim. A freshly ground block of stone lay before him, and he seemed to be considering where to set his chisel.
"Uncle Zhang." Ye Qingxuan entered the courtyard.
Uncle Zhang raised his head. Seeing who it was, he revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth amid his wrinkled face. "Qingxuan? Why are you up so early again? Was yesterday's sand and gravel not enough?"
"It really wasn't enough." Ye Qingxuan nodded, somewhat embarrassed. "Uncle, I was thinking... I'd like some more. Four or five baskets should do."
"Four or five baskets?" Uncle Zhang lowered his pipe and rose, patting the stone dust from his clothes. "Boy, what exactly are you up to? First sand, then stones. Don't tell me you're building another stove in the backyard?"
"Not a stove." Ye Qingxuan thought for a moment and found an excuse. "I want to dig a small pit and practice some martial arts."
"Practice martial arts?" Uncle Zhang looked him up and down. His gaze paused on the faint swelling of Ye Qingxuan's arm before he broke into loud laughter. "Good! Good! Young people ought to stretch their muscles and bones! Just like your father—he was quite the hero back in the day!"
He was extremely generous, sweeping his large hand through the air. "Take as much as you need! Don't stand on ceremony with your uncle!"
With that, he turned to the corner of the wall and dragged out a giant basket, a full circle larger than an ordinary bucket. It was woven from thick bamboo strips and obviously meant for carrying heavy loads.
"Use this. It'll save you the trouble of making several trips." Uncle Zhang thumped the basket onto the ground, then pointed with his pipe at a shoulder pole as thick as a bowl. "But once this thing is full, it'll weigh two or three hundred jin. With your small frame, you'd better take it easy."
Ye Qingxuan said little. He merely thanked him, picked up a shovel, and began loading sand into the basket.
He filled half the basket with fine sand, then shoveled in half a basket of evenly sized stones. Mixed together, the sand and stones were even heavier. The basket was soon filled to overflowing, piled into a small mountain.
Uncle Zhang watched from the side, shaking his head repeatedly. "That's enough, enough, Qingxuan. Any more and you won't be able to lift it."
Ye Qingxuan did not stop. He added several more shovelfuls until the basket could not hold another grain, then finally paused.
He threaded the shoulder pole through the basket's rope loops, drew a deep breath, lowered his legs slightly, and settled into a perfect horse stance.
"Up!"
With a low shout, he drove power through his waist and back. The sturdy shoulder pole sank sharply onto his shoulder, bending into an astonishing arc.
The basket filled with sand and stones rose from the ground.
Ye Qingxuan's feet merely paused lightly against the earth before he steadied himself. With two or three hundred jin on his shoulder, his back remained ramrod straight. Step by step, he walked neither hurriedly nor slowly, his feet landing with barely a sound.
The pipe Uncle Zhang had been holding between his teeth fell to the ground with a clatter.
He rubbed his eyes and watched the young man carrying the heavy load, his back steady as a mountain, gradually disappear into the morning mist at the mouth of the alley. For a long while, he could not utter a word.
Where had this boy gotten such strength?
Back at the small courtyard, Ye Qingxuan poured the sand and stones into the shallow pit he had dug the night before.
He then tore open the two thick hemp sacks and spread them across the bottom of the pit. Only then was the setup complete.
Ye Caiwei had also awakened by this time. Rubbing her eyes, she came out of the room and saw the pit in the yard filled with sand and stones. Her little mouth opened wide enough to fit an egg.
"Brother, did you... bring the riverbank home?"
Ye Qingxuan smiled and rubbed her head. "Your brother is going to practice an incredibly powerful martial art."
Breakfast was still meat porridge and steamed buns. Ye Qingxuan's appetite was even greater than yesterday's. He ate until the bottom of the pot showed before he finally felt seven-tenths full.
He told his younger sister to return to the room and review her lessons, forbidding her from coming out. Then he locked the courtyard gate from the inside, removed his shirt, and revealed a body whose muscles and bones were not exaggerated but clearly defined.
He stood at the edge of the pit and looked at the brim-full sand and stones. The sharp-edged gravel gleamed with a cold, hard light beneath the morning sun.
Without the slightest hesitation, he stepped inside.
The sand and stones instantly covered his ankles. Their cold, rough touch shot straight up from the soles of his feet.
He slowly lay down, burying his entire body beneath the sand and stones.
Then he began to roll.
"Rustle—"
The rolling of sand and stones rang especially clearly in the silent courtyard.
At the same moment, agonizing pain swept over his entire body.
This was an entirely different sensation from last night's sand grinding. Countless sharp-edged stones repeatedly rolled over, scraped across, and crushed his back, chest, and limbs as he turned.
The sensation was no different from being skinned alive.
Every inch of his skin cried out in agony.
He clenched his teeth and forcibly swallowed the groan of pain that was about to burst from his throat.
There was only the elmwood square table bearing a palm print in his mind.
Duan Tianbao. Fierce Tiger Hall. Monthly payment.
Those words were like steel needles stabbing into his heart, then transforming into a nameless fire that burned through every limb and bone.
Under the scorching of that fire, the pain gradually became bearable.
He began following the mental formula of the Indestructible Vajra Body, controlling the tensing and relaxing of his muscles and guiding the flow of his qi and blood, making every roll of his body harmonize with the technique.
"Rustle... rustle..."
The rolling of the sand and stones became rhythmic.
No one knew how much time passed. When he finished executing the complete rolling method, his entire body had been drained of strength. Sweat mixed with blood, dyeing the sand beneath him a dark red.
At that very moment, the image in his mind abruptly unfolded!
Three dazzling points of light poured into it one after another!
[Merit: +3]
The instant the words appeared, an unprecedented feeling of comfort surged from the depths of his heart, washing away the exhaustion and pain in every corner of his body.
Ye Qingxuan propped himself up and sat in the sand pit.
Breathing heavily, he focused and looked inward.
[Name: Ye Qingxuan] [Realm: Body Tempering First Layer Perfection] [Martial Art: Indestructible Vajra Body (Realm: Minor Accomplishment, Measure: Two Inches, Merit: 6/45)]
Three points of Merit from one cultivation session!
The effectiveness of this "sand-and-stone rolling" method was actually three times that of ordinary cultivation!
He lowered his head and examined his body.
His skin was flushed all over and covered in fine scratches and spots of blood, making him look somewhat frightening, but he had suffered no truly serious injuries. After reaching Minor Accomplishment in the Indestructible Vajra Body, the toughness of his flesh had already surpassed all imagination.
The door to the inner room quietly opened a crack.
Ye Caiwei hid behind it, one small hand covering her mouth, her large eyes brimming with tears.
She had just been awakened by the strange sounds in the courtyard. When she secretly peeked outside, she saw her brother rolling around in the sand pit.
Each time the rustling sound rang out, it seemed to grind against her heart.
Seeing the patches of red across her brother's body, she was so heartbroken that tears fell without end.
Yet she had also seen that when her brother sat up from the pit, his face covered in sweat and dust held not the slightest trace of pain. Instead, it radiated a brilliance she could not understand.
It was the brilliance of power bursting forth.
She suddenly remembered the martial arts experts in the tales told by the storyteller. Which of them had not endured countless hardships before forging earth-shaking abilities?
Was her brother the same as them?
"Brother... is a martial arts prodigy."
The little girl used the most remarkable word she could think of to describe her brother.
In the courtyard, Ye Qingxuan rose and walked to the well. He drew up a bucket of icy well water and poured it over his head.
The bone-chilling cold jolted his spirits awake.
The wounds on his skin burned fiercely as the clean water washed over them, but the sensation also stimulated the circulation of his qi and blood, accelerating his recovery.
He reached back and touched his skin. Though it was damaged, his muscles and bones brimmed with a fullness of strength he had never felt before.
This method was fast, but it was also fierce. If he trained like this every day, his flesh would probably not be able to endure it.
He needed to alternate tension with relaxation. After training for one day, he would need to rest for one day, giving his flesh enough time to recover and grow. Only that would be the way to sustain himself over the long term.
One month.
Twenty-seven days remained before he had to "pay the monthly fee" to Fierce Tiger Hall.
He had already gained six of the forty-five points of Merit.
He looked at the sand and stones in the pit, stained with his blood and sweat, his gaze calm and still.
Although this road was paved with blood and pain, its endpoint was no longer an unreachable dream.
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