The Mortal Martial Divide

In the deepest darkness before dawn, snow fell without a sound.

Cui Hao stepped through the fresh snow, deep enough to cover his ankles, and left the warm little courtyard.

On his feet were the leather boots Su Yun had stitched for him, one stitch at a time, over several sleepless nights. Thick cotton batting lined them, keeping his feet warm as he walked soundlessly through the snow.

He wore a thick navy-blue padded jacket she had made as well. Its stitches were fine, the duck down evenly distributed, protecting him from the bitter wind.

His bundle held griddle cakes she had gotten up before dawn to make, filled with pork cracklings and pickled vegetables. They were still warm.

Once again, he reached the familiar stream at the foot of Yuanmeng Mountain.

The stream, which had always burbled along, was now frozen solid by the bitter cold, forming a crystal-clear ribbon of ice about four meters wide.

A man and a woman were already busy on the ice.

The man was laboriously chipping a hole through the ice with a crude iron chisel, while the woman held a wooden stick and warily scanned the fog-shrouded woods around them.

Their movements were in sync. Their silence spoke of the hardships of life and the resilience that came from supporting each other.

They were clearly a poor couple trying to make a living in the mountains.

Cui Hao didn't approach and disturb them. For now, he gave up on crossing the stream and headed upstream along its frozen bank.

Less than a li later, a rustle of lively chattering came from the bare branches ahead.

Two gray-brown squirrels chased each other among the branches, their fluffy tails drawing lively arcs against the snow. Their chittering sounded carefree.

Cui Hao raised his bow without thinking and nocked an arrow.

As he took aim, he saw how affectionately the squirrels nestled together. Su Yun's image came to mind: sewing clothes for him by lamplight, making griddle cakes for him in the morning. His heart softened, and he slowly lowered his bow.

After walking a little farther, he had some luck. Beside a wind-sheltered thicket, he spotted two white pheasants scratching for roots in the snow.

This time, he didn't hesitate. The bowstring twanged, and two wooden arrows shot out one after the other.

"Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Both struck true! The two pheasants died almost simultaneously.

The second shot seemed to trigger some mysterious sensation. The instant the arrow left the bowstring, its force, speed, and spin came together in perfect harmony—the "critical hit" indicated on the panel had taken effect!

The arrow not only pierced the pheasant, but left a wound nearly twice as large as an ordinary arrow wound, almost tearing half its body apart.

He looked at the panel.

[Archery: Minor Achievement (112/600)]

[Effect: Soreness -10, Arm Strength +10, Accuracy +10, Critical Hits +1]

Hunting two pheasants had increased his progress by a negligible 1 point.

Sure enough, once he reached the Minor Achievement stage, the progress gained from ordinary small game was almost negligible.

On the other hand... the "other kind of cultivation" at home brought steadier, more substantial gains.

The thought made the corner of Cui Hao's mouth twitch. I'm such a rascal...

He picked up the game and hadn't gone far when he spotted a gray shape at the edge of a patch of dead grass, more than thirty meters away.

A hare!

It was rapidly digging through the snow with its front paws to nibble at the grass roots underneath. Every few scrapes, it would warily raise its long ears and sweep the area with its ruby-red eyes.

This was his chance! Cui Hao drew his bow and nocked an arrow again.

Having just broken through to the Mortal Martial Realm, he was still getting used to controlling his strength. He unconsciously put all his strength into this shot, wanting to ensure a single-hit kill.

"Whoosh—crack!"

The arrow's whistle through the air and the sharp snap of the bow's arm sounded almost at the same time!

The wooden arrow, infused with far more force than usual, shot out like a black bolt of lightning and pierced the hare's neck. It sent the animal tumbling several times before it slammed into the snow.

But in Cui Hao's hand, the mulberry-wood compound bow his father had left him, his longtime companion, had snapped in the middle under the sudden burst of tremendous force!

Cui Hao froze for a moment, staring at the old bow broken in two in his hand. A complicated pang of regret welled up in his heart.

The bow carried the original owner's hazy memories of his father. It had also been an important companion that helped Cui Hao get by when he first transmigrated.

The sadness lasted only an instant before he let it go. Out with the old, in with the new.

"Good thing there's still a spare at home." Muttering to himself, Cui Hao put away the broken bow and went to pick up the hare.

He'd had a decent haul today. Since the bow was broken, Cui Hao decided to head back.

As usual, he chopped some firewood on the way, tucked the meat among the logs, and carried it home on his shoulder.

As he crossed the bare, snow-covered Second Mountain, Cui Hao encountered a small figure halfway up the slope.

The boy was eight or nine years old, wrapped in a tattered, drafty shirt so worn that its original color was almost impossible to make out.

On his feet were a pair of ragged cloth shoes, obviously far too big, with the toes worn through. He struggled through the knee-deep snow, sinking with every other step.

Behind him, a crude grass rope dragged an object wrapped in a torn straw mat, its human shape faintly visible.

The snow was too deep, and the resistance too great. Every few steps, he had to stop and catch his breath. The white puffs of his breath froze into icy mist in front of his purple, frostbitten face.

Cui Hao stopped. Looking at the heart-wrenching sight, he asked, "Kid, where are you going?"

The boy's thin shoulders shrank. He didn't dare look up at Cui Hao, and answered with his head bowed, his voice trembling and faint as a mosquito's buzz. "To... Second Mountain."

"What for?"

"My dad... died." The boy's voice dropped lower, choked with suppressed sobs. "There's nowhere to bury him. I'm taking him to the mountain beasts to eat."

Cui Hao fell silent.

The unclaimed wilderness of First Mountain had been divided up many years ago by the city's wealthy gentry and various lineages, under one pretext or another.

The farmland below the mountain, of course, all belonged to someone.

When poor people died, finding a place to lay their bones was an uphill struggle.

Seeing the boy shivering in the cold wind, nearly spent, Cui Hao couldn't bear it. He took the stiff, frozen rope from the boy's hands. "I'll drag him for a while. Follow behind me and watch your step."

The boy raised his head in a daze. His dirty little face was framed by a pair of large, vacant eyes, as if he still hadn't come back from the grief of losing his father and the torment of the cold.

He didn't thank Cui Hao or refuse. He simply nodded in silence and followed behind him, trudging through the snow one step at a time.

Dragging the body through the snow, Cui Hao had just climbed back to the mountain ridge when urgent shouts and footsteps came from behind.

"Stop! You there, stop!"

Cui Hao and the boy paused and looked back.

Three or four men in thick padded coats and waterproof boots came hurrying after them, panting.

The one in front was a fair-faced, middle-aged man in his forties. He was bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

"You little brat!" Once he had caught his breath, the middle-aged man pointed at the boy and cursed. "Who told you to drag that corpse to Second Mountain? The village headman already said that corpses can't be dumped on Second Mountain!"

"If the beasts in there get a taste for human flesh, they'll become addicted and come down the mountain to wreak havoc on the village. Can you take responsibility for that?!"

The boy's small body shrank, but he stubbornly answered in a low voice, "Then... where am I supposed to bury my dad?"

"I don't care where you bury him! Just don't dump him on Second Mountain! Those are the rules!"

The boy lowered his head and said no more. He only bit his lower lip hard, tears circling in his eyes, but he forced them back.

The standoff dragged on. The men blocked the path and clearly had no intention of letting them pass.

Cui Hao looked at the helpless boy, then at the aggressive men, and spoke up. "Sir... It's freezing, and he's just a child... Could you make an exception? Or... could the village spare some firewood so he can cremate his father?"

"Cremate him?"

The man looked Cui Hao up and down—his ordinary padded coat, the broken bow on his back, and the firewood—then scoffed. "You're a kindhearted fellow! You think firewood is free? I'm just a messenger, not his father. Why should I give him firewood? If you're so compassionate, give him money so he can buy some himself!"

Cui Hao said no more. He counted out ten copper coins from his pocket, took the boy's cracked, dirty hand, and gently placed the coins in his palm. "Take these. Find a woodcutter in the village and buy some dry firewood."

The boy stared blankly at the ten copper coins, still warm from Cui Hao's body, then looked up at him. His lips trembled, but in the end, he couldn't say anything. At last, tears rolled down in big drops, mixing with the grime on his face.

"Idiot. Burning money for nothing." The men didn't stop them again. They turned and headed back down the mountain.

Cui Hao helped the boy drag the body back near the village entrance at the foot of the mountain. Seeing the matter through to the end, he stayed and helped cremate the body before leaving.

By the time he hurried back to his home in Willow Tree Village, it was already midafternoon.

When he entered the courtyard, he saw some words in the snow.

The handwriting was crooked, the characters uneven in size, and some strokes overlapped. To be fair... it was pretty ugly.

"If you want to laugh, go ahead." Su Yun was perceptive; she could tell her husband was struggling to hold it in.

"Sister Yun..." Cui Hao insisted on keeping a straight face. "I don't usually laugh unless I can't hold it in."

"Brother Hao..." Su Yun shared what was on her mind. "I want to learn to write. Will you teach me?"

"Why?"

"You're going to become a Martial Xiucai. If your wife can't read, won't people laugh at you?"

Sensing Su Yun's desire to improve, Cui Hao nodded in agreement. "Starting today, I'll teach you to read every day."

Su Yun smiled.

"Go heat some water." As he spoke, Cui Hao set down the firewood and broken bow. "I just moved a corpse."

Su Yun was alarmed. "What happened?"

Cui Hao briefly recounted what had happened on the way home.

When she heard that her husband had helped the boy and given him ten copper coins, Su Yun only sighed softly. Sympathy flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

She knew Brother Hao was kindhearted. But when her gaze fell on the broken mulberry-wood bow, her face instantly turned pale.

"The bow... why is it broken?" Su Yun's voice trembled. In her heart, the bow was almost a symbol of her husband's safety and the family's livelihood.

"It's fine," Cui Hao hurriedly explained. "I didn't control my strength and snapped it. Don't we still have a spare at home? When I have time, I'll find someone to make me a better one."

Only then did Su Yun remember there was another bow at home. Her heart, which had been in her throat, settled a little. It felt as though the sky, which had collapsed, was being held up again.

She asked no more questions. Turning away, she went to the kitchen to start the fire and heat water.

"Brother Hao..."

The next morning, on the way to the martial arts school, Lin Da walked beside Cui Hao. Snow crunched beneath his feet, but he barely felt the cold. Instead, his palms kept sweating from nerves.

"I... I'm a little scared. The two-month deadline is getting closer, and I'm afraid... I'm afraid I won't make it into the Mortal Martial Realm."

Cui Hao walked on in silence. He had been at the martial arts school for nearly two months now and was no longer the clueless newcomer he had once been. He had witnessed with his own eyes what it meant for the school to be an iron forge, with disciples flowing through it like water.

Every day, new faces full of dreams eagerly stepped through its doors, while old faces left in silence, dejected.

Those who made it through the two months and were lucky enough to break through to the Mortal Martial Realm were soon filtered out by the even harsher Clear Force threshold.

Those who failed to break through were like shells left behind on the beach by the tide, quickly forgotten.

He had also come to deeply understand what it meant for talent to be dignity itself. Those senior brothers and sisters in the Mortal Martial Realm, especially those at the Clear Force stage, would hardly spare a glance for disciples who hadn't entered the realm. The only exception was when they had no choice but to carry out the new-student training their master assigned them.

Their circles, their conversations, and their resources were divided from those of ordinary disciples by a clear, visible wall.

He finally understood that Senior Sister Liu Yan's reminder back then—"Don't go disturbing others"—had meant he shouldn't go looking to humiliate himself.

At the martial arts school, Cui Hao changed into his usual coarse training clothes and silently went to a corner of the courtyard.

In the faint morning light, he loosened his muscles and bones, then lightly leapt onto the cold plum-blossom posts and began his stance training for the day.

Wang Qing, Guo Yong, Wang Nian, and a few other disciples from his cohort, who had arrived before him, were also silently holding their stances on their own posts.

When their eyes met, they gave each other the faintest nod in greeting. An unspoken heaviness and urgency hung in the air.

By the time the sky was bright, their master emerged from the inner courtyard at an unhurried pace.

He went straight to Xiao Li first and gave him detailed pointers on his training, demonstrating with his hands and speaking in a gentle tone.

Xiao Li listened respectfully, occasionally asking a question. The atmosphere between master and disciple was warm and easy.

Afterward, Xu Dian went to Li He and patiently explained the tricks of circulating qi and blood.

From this, it was clear that although Li He hadn't broken through, he was held in high regard.

Then Xu Dian briefly spoke with several Clear Force disciples who were sparring, apparently asking about their progress or assigning them tasks.

After that, he turned and headed straight back into the inner courtyard.

From beginning to end, the master's gaze barely lingered on the area where Cui Hao and the other ordinary disciples stood. He didn't come over to ask after or instruct him as he had Xiao Li and Li He.

Standing on his post, Cui Hao watched Xu Dian's back disappear beyond the moon gate. The thought he'd had of finding a chance to report his breakthrough into the Mortal Martial Realm that day quietly faded away.

Besides, even if he had broken through, unless he kept demonstrating enough outstanding talent and value, he would probably soon fade into the crowd anyway.

As time passed, the atmosphere in the courtyard grew increasingly tense and uneasy.

The better-off disciples glanced around, weighing whether they should risk trying to get their hands on a dose of Qi and Blood Powder and gamble on a breakthrough.

The truly impoverished disciples, who couldn't even afford Qi and Blood Powder, wore bewildered expressions and began wondering what they would do if their breakthrough attempt failed.

Would they go home and farm? Or find some backbreaking work in the city?

As for Cui Hao, with only one day left before the two-month "deadline," even the senior brothers who usually trained their strength, practiced their stances, and complained about the hardships alongside him had begun to look at him differently.