Cultivating Inner Breath

"Wenzheng..." Zhou Gang let out a wry laugh, then changed his address mid-sentence, "Good nephew, you're just too polite."

As he spoke, his gaze shed some of its usual stern mentor's scrutiny, taking on more of a satisfied look reserved for someone close.

Feng Xiu felt a chill run down his spine under that stare. Zhou Gang looked him up and down again. "What do you think of Xiao Han?"

Feng Xiu was taken aback. "Brother Han has solid martial skills and a steady character. I almost forgot to mention it—I was actually going to ask if he could work under me from now on."

"Oh? Under you? That works." Zhou Gang thought for a moment, nodded, then shifted the topic.

"So, what about my Zhou Family Escort Team's men? Do they meet your standards?"

Feng Xiu was even more confused. "Uncle Zhou, what are you saying? Of course they do."

Zhou Gang smiled, a meaningful smile. Feng Xiu's brow twitched as he vaguely guessed where this was going.

Sure enough.

"Good nephew, do you have any lady in your heart?" Zhou Gang's voice carried a hint of deliberation, his expression expectant.

Feng Xiu said helplessly, "It's still too early to talk about this."

Strange, he was almost twenty-six, but Feng Ao had never once arranged a matchmaker for him.

Then again, his father had boundless energy—almost unnaturally so. Maybe he worried a new addition to the family would drain his focus?

"It's not early. Settle down early, build a career early. If you're interested in starting a family, I happen to know a fine candidate. What do you think?" Zhou Gang waved his hand, asking with a beaming smile.

When someone put it that way, what could Feng Xiu say?

Huh?

Wait!

"Uncle Zhou, what surname does this lady you mentioned have?" Feng Xiu asked cautiously, testing the waters.

"Zhou."

"..."

Feng Xiu froze. Before he could speak, Zhou Gang continued on his own, "Don't blame me for being abrupt, nephew. I just see you as a good lad—sharp, willing to put in the hard work, and thoughtful in dealing with people."

"Brother Feng is lucky to have a son like you."

He paused briefly. "Good nephew, think it over carefully. I'll take care of your matter first, then arrange a meeting between you two."

Seeing Feng Xiu purse his lips in silence, Zhou Gang didn't push too hard. He patted him on the shoulder, then led his escort team out of the estate.

After Zhou Gang left, Feng Xiu stood there for a long while.

I treated you like a mentor, and you want to be my father-in-law? So you really do have a daughter.

Come to think of it, was this Feng Ao's secret arrangement? A marriage alliance with a martial arts family, strengthening ties, and then using martial training to get Zhou Gang's assessment?

He shook his head, then couldn't help but wonder—what would Zhou Gang's daughter look like?

Would she be like her old man, able to shatter a rock with one palm?

At that thought, Feng Xiu shuddered, quickly shaking off the idea and refusing to dwell on it.

After taking a White Deer Pill, he turned and called over Han Che, who had been standing nearby, to continue sparring.

In the training room, fists whistled through the air, punctuated by bursts of sonic booms.

Feng Xiu's movements were smooth and natural, even more alert than before to Han Che's tricks. Now, they had become effortless, each technique flowing freely.

Moreover, his visual perception and the neural transmission of his thoughts formed a strange, battle-instinct-like precognition.

When Han Che's shoulder dipped, he knew he was about to strike at his left ribs. When his breathing frequency weakened, it meant an eye-gouge or groin-strike.

His strength had also more than doubled. Han Che's eyes flickered with uncertainty. Even though his own moves weren't held back, he couldn't secure an overwhelming victory. The one-sided beatdown had turned into a stalemate.

Swish!

As the words left his mouth, Feng Xiu struck first again, throwing a straight punch.

The punch seemed no different from before, but before its momentum faded, a follow-up move was already brewing. Han Che's pupils contracted, his gaze locking onto Feng Xiu's slightly lowered left elbow and his seemingly casual right knee shift.

Instantly, Han Che sidestepped, dodging the feint.

At the same time, his hands shot out like iron clamps, grabbing for Feng Xiu's extended right arm, aiming to lock the joint.

But Feng Xiu's lips curled into a faint smile.

Indeed, in martial combat, feign the real and make the real seem feigned.

Bait taken. Using the punch's momentum to fish—this was what he was waiting for.

The moment his right arm was seized, Feng Xiu leaned forward, throwing his full weight onto Han Che, while his left elbow smashed down hard, driving straight into Han Che's ribs.

Han Che's face changed color. In haste, he could only block with his left palm.

Bang!

A fierce force surged through Feng Xiu's elbow, numbing Han Che's left palm and forcing him back half a step involuntarily.

The grip on Feng Xiu's right arm loosened from the impact.

Feng Xiu seized the opening, withdrawing his arm as his right fist shot out like a venomous dragon leaving its lair, straight for Han Che's heart.

This punch carried immense force, inner breath and blood surging together—it was unmistakably the most ferocious Five Forces United technique from the Five Force Fist, leaving Han Che no room to dodge, forcing him to meet it head-on again.

"Boom!"

Fists collided with a thunderous dull thud. Han Che staggered back three steps, each footfall landing with a heavy sound on the blue bricks.

The dissipated force shook dust loose from the cracks between the tiles, sending it drifting upward.

Feng Xiu also retreated a step, his breath slightly disordered. The Five Forces United move had consumed most of his blood and qi.

But the results were decent enough—the gap between him and Han Che was now clear.

Han Che steadied himself, looked down at his faintly trembling right hand, and stared at Feng Xiu for a long moment before forcing out a sentence:

"Was that feint intentional on the young master's part?"

Feng Xiu nodded slightly, admitting openly, "Brother Han's attacks were too dense. If I'd met force with force, I wouldn't have lasted long. I had to try another approach."

Han Che was stunned for a moment at these words, a rare bitter smile creeping onto his face.

He didn't say anything further, but his mind churned violently, his expression caught between speaking and holding back.

Wasn't he just being suppressed moments ago? And now, merely after practicing the inner breath method, his strength had soared to such a level?

He had to admit—some people were simply born for this path. Han Che's heart felt rather sour.

Medicine baths couldn't produce this reaction, and pills couldn't brew this kind of mind.

In other words, only life-and-death combat could forge such near-ferocious battle instincts.

From predicting breath to continuously cutting off his own attack intent, Feng Xiu had only been practicing martial arts for a few days.

Even with an unlimited supply of martial resources, achieving this progress in just a few short days—

This was what they called heaven's gift.

At that moment, Han Che spoke seriously again, "That entire chain of transitions just now—from the feint to lure my grab, to borrowing momentum to press in and counter with an elbow, then seizing the opening to withdraw and strike straight at the center—the young master's moves flowed smoothly, each link interlocking. This isn't something hard training alone can produce."

Such reaction talent was extremely rare among beginners; flustered fumbling was the norm for new martial artists.

Han Che had traveled far and wide with Zhou Gang and had never seen anyone with such aptitude. Feng Xiu was the first anomaly he'd encountered.

Feng Xiu shook his head with a light laugh, humbly saying, "Brother Han flatters me."

On the Technique Record, each of the four-dimensional attributes provided a massive boost to oneself, tied to overall comprehensive quality.

The enhancement from spiritual power plus agility was simply terrifying.

Feng Xiu just smiled at the words, but a faint realization stirred within him.

In that instant during the fight, he felt as if he had entered a strange state, somewhat like the flow state in learning.

Evening, at the Martial Arts Arena.

"Brother Han, in your view, what realm should I be at now?" After the sparring ended, Feng Xiu picked up a towel to wipe his sweat and asked Han Che with a smile.

Han Che replied, "Young Master Feng's sinews, bones, and skin have been somewhat tempered. You should be at Minor Success in Body Refining."

Half a month to reach the Body Refining realm—if placed on an ordinary martial artist, they wouldn't even sense blood and qi for at least a year or two.

Considering Feng Xiu was on the wealthy martial path, Han Che felt he wasn't underestimating him.

"But I noticed the young master's lower stance is a bit tight and loose. You still need some refinement in your stance training."

Feng Xiu nodded. He had noticed this too—during high-intensity fist techniques, he always felt the blood and qi flow in his legs was slightly chaotic.

This wasn't hard to understand, because Feng Xiu had reached the Body Refining realm entirely through nourishing martial resources.

And when Zhou Gang taught the Five Force Fist, he only emphasized how the first eight forms stretched the sinews, bones, and skin, without passing on any systematic stance training.

"Not only that, Young Master Feng, I'll also teach you a corresponding weapon technique. Paired with the Eight Trigrams Stance, you'll be able to develop technique sense in just a few days."

Han Che pondered briefly before continuing.

He had stood by and listened to Zhou Gang's entire speech earlier, especially that unabashed attitude of a father-in-law sizing up a son-in-law.

Though Han Che was a man of few words, he could read the situation. Building a good relationship with Feng Xiu now would bring nothing but benefit, no harm.