Learning Martial Arts

"The first eight stances of the Five Force Fist are the kind of practice that takes sweat to master. Wen Zheng, how do you feel? Like you've grown taller?"

Seeing a flicker of surprise cross Feng Xiu's face, Zhou Gang stepped forward with a hearty laugh and asked.

"A little."

Feng Xiu nodded. That was exactly what he thought.

Not only that, but after finishing the practice, even his breathing felt much heavier.

"It's not your imagination. If you keep training like this, you'll only damage your foundation."

Zhou Gang was frank, admitting he was forcing the process, but then added, "Only by pairing it with a suitable medicinal bath can you reclaim the gains from your training and strengthen your martial foundation."

From the very beginning, Zhou Gang hadn't intended for Feng Xiu to follow the orthodox path of cultivation.

In martial arts, the poor studied literature, while the rich practiced martial arts.

The poor had their own way of training. They needed basic moves to build a foundation and horse stance drills to temper their bones.

As a wealthy merchant family, the Feng Clan certainly had no shortage of resources.

Even so, skipping the basics of the early stages of martial arts would be pointless if Feng Xiu gave up so easily. No amount of resources could make up for that.

Fortunately, Feng Xiu had persevered.

"Go rest first. Get familiar with the Five Force Fist. Once you can perform all sixteen forms properly, I'll teach you the Five-Strength Internal Breath Method."

Zhou Gang knew he was exhausted, but still took the time to explain what an internal breath method was.

In short, the forms were external, while the internal breath was internal. The order was right.

The forms loosened the sinews and opened the bones, stretched the major tendons, and tempered the bones and qi and blood.

The internal breath method, meanwhile, was the absolute core of a martial art!

"Combine external fist forms with internal breath, and your qi and blood can undergo a transformation, condensing into true force."

As Zhou Gang spoke, he joined his fingers together like a spear and casually swept them across the round stone table beside them, where the tea had been set.

There was no violent impact, no shower of stone chips—only a faint hiss, like a blade slicing through thick paper.

Then the waist-high stone table slowly slid apart from a third of the way down.

Boom!

The lower half of the table crashed to the ground. The dull thud made Feng Xiu's soles go numb, and the cut was smooth as a mirror.

Feng Xiu's pupils contracted. He was utterly stunned.

That was a joke, right?

That wasn't just strength. That was freaking Sword Qi—and he'd unleashed it with his fingers!

Feng Xiu swallowed. He realized something: the martial prowess of this world might be far greater than he'd imagined.

Was everyone here a Song Wu right from the start?

Feng Xiu stared at the half of the stone table on the ground, unable to speak for a long moment. When he finally came to his senses, he clasped his hands solemnly. "Thank you, Uncle Zhou."

Then, supported by Uncle Zheng, he dragged his sweat-soaked body out of the West Courtyard, limping all the way.

Inside the bedroom.

Amid the curling steam rising from the round wooden tub stood a composed member of the escort team.

Holding a shallow tray, he took out one unfamiliar medicinal herb after another. When he dropped in the last one, a skull-shaped herb, the medicinal liquid rapidly changed from murky to an amber hue brimming with vitality, sending ripples across its surface.

The man stirred it for a while with a wooden stick, a flicker of envy in his eyes.

As expected of the wealthy. They could toss in all kinds of powerful tonics without a second thought.

Unlike him back in the day, when he couldn't even get his hands on a proper martial art.

Suppressing his envy, the man returned to work. Just as the various medicinal liquids were gradually blending together, a knock sounded at the door.

"Greetings, Master Zheng."

"You may leave."

The man bowed and withdrew.

Uncle Zheng helped Feng Xiu, whose steps were unsteady, over to a chair.

As soon as Feng Xiu sat down, an indescribable stinging pain surged through his body, where his ligaments, muscles, and bones had been forcibly stretched.

"Hiss!" Feng Xiu grimaced in pain.

Uncle Zheng chuckled at the sight. He picked up the powerful tonic the man hadn't finished adding, put in another portion, and spoke slowly.

"First Young Master, don't blame Chief Escort Zhou. Your bones are past the right age for training, so if you want to practice martial arts, you have no choice but to use strong medicine."

"Uncle Zheng, don't be silly. How could I blame him?" Feng Xiu shook his head.

He might be a rich young master, but his soul wasn't.

Only by eating bitterness could one rise above others. It wasn't as if he didn't understand that.

Besides, the martial prowess Zhou Gang had demonstrated had already stirred a different kind of interest in him toward the martial path.

"First Young Master, the Five Force Fist Chief Escort Zhou is teaching you is a martial art that leads straight to the Great Dao."

"Is it really that miraculous?" Feng Xiu looked doubtful. He truly knew nothing about martial arts, and at that moment, all he felt was pain.

Other than Zhou Gang's incredible martial prowess, he couldn't sense at all that this was some peerless divine art.

"First Young Master, you've only just begun. There are some things you need to know first." Uncle Zheng tested the water temperature as he spoke.

"The first realm of martial arts is called Body Refining. You have to combine nourishing and training, opening up your sinews, bones, and skin, before you can advance to the next level."

"Once those four steps are complete, taken in order, your qi and blood will surge on their own, and you'll be qualified to face the Blood Burning threshold."

He could tell Feng Xiu was genuinely interested in studying this path, so Uncle Zheng explained a little more.

His words made Feng Xiu click his tongue. After witnessing Zhou Gang's incredible martial prowess, he'd suddenly been brought back to the reality of step-by-step cultivation.

A stirring rose in his heart, but he still asked, "Uncle Zheng, what realm have you reached?"

"Membrane Refining and Organ Clearing. My qi and blood have dissipated, so I have no hope of reaching Blood Burning in this lifetime."

Uncle Zheng wiped his hands again and replied, looking at Feng Xiu, who seemed lost in thought.

That made sense. Uncle Zheng was already old, and his strength and energy had long since diminished.

"Then how many years did it take you to reach Membrane Refining and Organ Clearing?"

At that, Uncle Zheng raised a hand, its five fingers withered and creased. He folded three of them down, leaving two raised.

"Two years?"

"No. Twenty."

Feng Xiu was stunned.

Twenty years, and he still hadn't reached the second realm?

For a long while, he couldn't find a word to say.

"First Young Master, don't worry. When this old servant was young, I had no medicine to nourish my body. I relied on bitter training alone and ended up damaging my foundation. But you're different."

Feng Xiu nodded, feeling somewhat reassured.

The Feng Clan was immensely wealthy and had all the martial arts resources to go with it. Naturally, its training couldn't be judged by the standards of an ordinary martial artist from a common family.

Besides, he had the Technique Record to help him. Setting foot on the martial path wouldn't be difficult.

"By the way, Uncle Zheng, you still haven't told me about Uncle Zhou. Has Uncle Zhou crossed the Blood Burning threshold?" Feng Xiu asked, as if something had just occurred to him.

Zhou Gang really hadn't appeared out of nowhere. He was like Feng Ao in Feng Xiu's memories.

His childhood memories were full of Feng Ao saying things like:

"Your Uncle Zhou from the Zhou Family just started an escort agency."

"You got into a fight with your Uncle Zhou from the Zhou Family."

Feng Xiu knew that both of them practiced martial arts, but he'd only been in touch with them for the past two months.

There'd been no time to ask about many things.

Hearing this, Uncle Zheng paused, then smiled. "Blood Burning? First Young Master, you're underestimating Chief Escort Zhou."

Feng Xiu's eyes widened slightly.

"Green Rock City has a population of over a hundred thousand, and fewer than ten people can truly beat Chief Escort Zhou."

"First Young Master, guess what realm he's reached?"

"Is he really that strong?"

Uncle Zheng nodded. He could see how shocked Feng Xiu was.

"First Young Master, no matter how strong Chief Escort Zhou is, that's his business. You've only just crossed the threshold of martial arts. The more you think about such things, the more distracting thoughts you'll have, and the farther you'll stray from the right path."

"Settle your mind and focus on training. That's the proper path of martial arts."

Uncle Zheng sighed, then patted the wooden tub to signal Feng Xiu not to dwell on it.

Uncle Zheng refused to say more, so Feng Xiu gave up on asking.

Feng Xiu had always been good at taking advice in this regard. As Uncle Zheng had said, asking less, watching more, and practicing more was the best way to turn potential into strength.

Afterward.

Feng Xiu sat in the chair and rested for a while, then, with Uncle Zheng's help, took off his clothes.

The medicinal bath was just the right temperature. The warm, soft liquid seeped into him through his pores.

As it spread, a strange sensation of heat intertwined with coolness washed over him, greatly easing his fatigue.

He felt a swelling fullness in his body, a blissful, almost otherworldly comfort—as if he'd undergone some kind of baptism.

Feng Xiu's eyes drifted shut. He couldn't even be bothered to move a finger, and let out a satisfied, quivering sigh.

"This feels so much better than stretching after a sleepless night."

Uncle Zheng watched him from across the room, the corners of his mouth lifting in a quiet smile. Then he closed the door and left.