Ten Years

That night in late summer 1845 in Alberta became known privately as the "Wolf Calamity." Governor Fitzroy Hunter personally sent men to question and negotiate with Mr. Howlett, setting down rules to ensure such a disaster would never happen again.

Mr. Howlett also became famous throughout Canada because of this; every estate owner in the region knew there was an old madman in the Alberta district who was not to be trifled with.

After the funeral, Mrs. Elizabeth piously converted to Catholicism. This beautiful woman, still in the prime of her life, began to live in seclusion, attending church services daily, giving alms in town, and caring for orphans and the elderly.

Perhaps without Mr. Howlett, she would have considered remarrying or leaving this place, but both she and Mr. Howlett knew clearly that she was the root cause of John's death. If not for James, the only heir to the Howlett family, Mrs. Elizabeth's fate likely would not have been any better than Thomas Logan's.

The old man took up the burden of the entire family once more. His physique was sturdy enough that if everything had continued peacefully, he might have lived to be eighty. But to buy his grandson more time, Mr. Howlett had to grit his teeth and hold on, letting him grow up as much as possible. James was still too young, but what comforted the old man was that he could see that everything he persisted in was full of hope.

Canada had not changed much in these ten years. A year ago, a new governor arrived—a hereditary marquis in his forties who seemed dissatisfied with the high degree of autonomy held by the estate owners in this colony and constantly tried to increase the authority of the Governor's Office.

By now, the agricultural, pastoral, and planting businesses in Alberta had basically fallen under the sole control of Mr. Howlett after that night ten years ago, making him the biggest thorn in the governor's side. Howlett's frailty was no longer a secret; his once-straight spine had been unable to hold up for years, and Alberta remained in an eerily calm state before the storm.

On the other hand, the United States, a nation less than a century old, was surging with unrest. The rise of abolitionists and the Free Soil Party—organized by those within the Democratic and Whig parties who opposed slavery—aimed to establish free states in the western territories.

In 1850, after much contention, both sides reached a compromise, and Congress passed the harsh Fugitive Slave Act. In 1854, Congress abolished the geographical boundary between slave states and free states, meeting with strong opposition from the northern industrial bourgeoisie. That same year, the Republican Party was founded with the explicit goal of opposing slavery, and a greater storm was brewing across the vast North American continent.

James Howlett's life had no ripples after his father's death; the great umbrella held up by Mr. Howlett shielded him firmly. Aside from the first two years of studying lessons and observing the handling of family accounts and personnel placement, all his energy went into practicing martial arts—and dealing with his increasingly strange body.

[Baduanjin] is the most widely circulated and influential of the ancient Chinese health-cultivation guidance arts. There are many schools, divided by sitting or standing, "civil" or "martial," and north or south, with many sects having their own unique methods of practice.

What James practiced in his previous life was the rare [Ancient Baduanjin]. It was difficult because it was so ancient that many of the acupoints to be tapped were already obscure, and no one dared to practice it.

The [Yijin Gong] he practiced every night, also known as the [Yijin Jing], was once mythologized in stories as the supreme martial art of the underworld, but fundamentally, it was just a guidance art for building a foundation and strengthening the body. It simply focused more on stretching the tendons and meridians, making the bones and muscles supple to invigorate blood and qi and prolong life.

This set of exercises was obtained from the Shaoshi Mountain sect by Bai Feng's former mentor using [Ancient Baduanjin] to repair and extend his body. It was only through the internal organ regulation and breath-swallowing of Baduanjin, combined with the tendon-strengthening and yin-yang balancing of Yijin Jing, that he could withstand the rigid and fierce practice of his fist techniques. Without these two sets of arts, he might have died young before reaching thirty.

By the age of sixteen, James could basically complete all the movements required by these two sets of arts. Especially with [Yijin Jing], by the end, he could not only perform the "splits," "straddle splits," and "serpentine coils" that ordinary people understood, but he could even rotate his entire shoulder joint, rendering ordinary locks and joint techniques useless. He deeply realized the benefits of "childhood training"; in his previous life, his bones had already set, making progress extremely slow, but this time it took a full seven years to reach his current state.

In the following years, James was in no rush to practice his former national martial arts. Instead, he repeated the practice of Baduanjin and Yijin Jing daily without fail. He also used the accumulation and insight from his previous life's mastery of fist techniques to practice various foundation-building stances and boxing arts he had never had the chance to try before.

He wanted to build the most solid foundation possible to see if the soul of a martial arts grandmaster could push the fist techniques of this life to the legendary supreme realm. However, the strange illness he thought had vanished only grew more intense.

"Young Master James! Wait for me!"

Rose O'Hara, riding the now fully grown White Dove, chased after James.

Her bright, vivid red hair was pulled by the wind into a ribbon of crimson trailing behind her. The girl's snow-white skin was dazzling under the sun, her pretty brows were furrowed, and her milky-white teeth gently bit her full lips. The freckles from her childhood had long since vanished from her straight, delicate nose and cheeks.

The little maid O'Hara had blossomed into a great beauty.

"Go back! I'm just going for a walk in the woods; I'll bring you a rabbit to play with when I return. The forest is dangerous, you can't follow me, don't be stubborn!" James shouted back at O'Hara, urging "Panda" beneath him to speed up.

This was the finest descendant of Black Mountain. Its coat was black and white, and it was taller and sturdier than its father. James named it Panda; no one knew what the word meant.

O'Hara pulled White Dove to a stop behind him, turning back with a complaint, muttering things like "never taking me along" and "jerk of a young master."

Sunlight spilled through the branches of the forest, the resulting Tyndall effect draping like a thin, soft veil over the young man leading the horse. His build was tall and well-proportioned, coordinating perfectly with the oversized horse beside him.

James wore his hair in a neat, short cut. With black hair and black eyes, his shoulders were extremely broad, making his head appear somewhat small. His arms were slender, reaching nearly to his knees, likely due to the influence of his exceptionally long legs, which made his torso look somewhat short. As he walked, his movements were like those of a beast with padded paws—agile and fluid.

If one ignored the thick stubble, his handsome features were even more delicate than O'Hara's, though his masculine aura made one overlook this somewhat feminine face.

James tied his horse to a tree, stepped up onto a boulder over two meters high, sat in a lotus position, and closed his eyes to rest, pondering the changes in his body's state over these past few days.

The episodes are lasting longer and the frequency is increasing. Last month, I was in a 'sick state' for twelve days. If this continues, I'll eventually become a complete invalid... James kept his eyes tightly shut, his brows furrowed in distress.

For the first two or three years, his body had grown healthily like any normal child without any abnormalities. With the practice of the two guidance arts, his development accelerated, his physical fitness improved, and his daily dietary needs became immense.

However, one evening, James suddenly felt feverish and weak, not recovering until the next day. Since then, it happened every so often. During an episode, his fever could reach forty degrees, his muscles and bones would ache, he would feel dizzy, and his breathing would become labored.

Relying on the strong physical foundation built by his increasingly profound martial arts practice, he could barely maintain the daily activities of an ordinary person, making excuses to read and rest in his room so others wouldn't know he had fallen ill again. People on the estate had almost forgotten that Young Master James was often sickly as a child.

James did not expect anyone in this era to be able to diagnose his condition. Not to mention that his past life's long illness had made him a doctor with a deep understanding of human anatomy, even as a martial arts grandmaster with a thorough knowledge of his own body, he had no clue about this strange disease.

Vaguely, he could confirm that this condition must exist at the genetic level. And regarding that, James was powerless. He was twenty-three this year and had been practicing lethal fist techniques for five years. Thanks to the unprecedented foundation he had built, he possessed the destructive power of an internal-force martial artist when not ill—enough to protect himself in this era where firearms were still primitive.

If he were to truly become permanently bedridden in the future, he could only barely maintain the physical condition of an ordinary person, and that was an optimistic scenario assuming the condition didn't worsen. Because James could feel that this strange illness was becoming increasingly impossible to suppress.

It was growing stronger day by day, ready to break free from its cage.