Setting the Stance, Foundation Cultivation Technique?

Chen Ye opened his eyes.

What came into view were mottled walls, a heated brick bed that could fit four people, and the gray, dim light filtering through the torn paper of the window.

His mind was a chaotic mess.

Wasn't I working overtime?

Where is this?

The next second, a tidal wave of memory fragments flooded into his brain.

Jing Dynasty, ninth year of Shenwu.

Gao Family, Chen Ye...

Eight minutes later, he finished digesting this information and sat on the edge of the bed, listless, staring at the spiderweb under the ceiling beam and letting out a long sigh.

He had transmigrated.

Not as a prince or a noble heir, nor a wealthy young master, but as an ordinary low-level servant of the Gao Family.

Fine.

He sat up and stretched this unfamiliar body.

Young and sturdy.

His hands and feet were rough and calloused; he was built for hard labor.

"What are you dawdling for, kid?" someone shouted at the top of their lungs outside the door. "Hurry up."

"Coming," Chen Ye responded instinctively.

Recently, the head of the Gao Family had a sudden whim to select a group of clever and reliable servants from the estate to give them a chance to practice martial arts.

He was lucky enough to be chosen.

Chen Ye jumped off the bed and followed the flow of people toward the middle courtyard.

In the middle courtyard of the Gao Family, a dense crowd of people stood waiting.

They were all servants selected from various parts of the Gao Family, just like Chen Ye.

The oldest looked no more than twenty, while the youngest seemed only thirteen or fourteen.

The servants whispered to each other, excitedly discussing the prospect of practicing martial arts.

"I heard they're looking for us to teach us kung fu!"

"That's right. The family head specifically appointed Protector Zhang to teach us personally."

"If I can learn a move or two, I'll be able to walk with a swagger from now on."

Chen Ye observed silently, not saying a word.

Standing directly in front of him was a bald, burly man.

The man's muscles were knotted, as if cast from refined iron, standing there like an iron tower.

Even from five or six paces away, one could feel the fierce aura radiating from him.

It was the kind of oppressive pressure that only came from someone who had blood on their hands.

Zhang Tieyi.

Chen Ye fished this name out of the original owner's memories.

He was the head of the Gao Family's protectors and had been ordered by the family head to serve as their instructor.

Zhang Tieyi's sharp gaze swept across the crowd, and the noisy courtyard instantly fell silent.

"Among the families in Qinghe Prefecture, the Gao Family is not the largest in terms of assets! Why do countless people still break their heads trying to get through our doors every year?"

Zhang Tieyi asked and answered himself: "Because among all the families, only the Gao Family does not hoard its secrets! As long as you perform well, you have the chance to be rewarded with martial arts training!"

"Most of you, if you weren't in the Gao Family, wouldn't even be able to touch the threshold of martial arts even if you worked yourselves to death!"

"Today, I am passing on these arts on behalf of the family head; remember this favor well! Serve the Gao Family well in the future!"

Sounds of people swallowing hard echoed around him.

Children of poor families grow up fast; who didn't know what a solid skill meant?

Not to mention, this was martial arts, which could defy the heavens and change one's fate!

"Although our Gao Family is a secondary house, this Tiger-Capturing Fist is domineering and fierce; in terms of power, it is no worse than the family-inherited martial arts of those second-rank noble houses!"

"But to learn the art, you must first learn the stance. Watch closely!"

Zhang Tieyi staggered his feet, clenched his fists, and steadily assumed a stance.

Chen Ye stared without blinking.

In his past life, he was just an ordinary corporate slave, and he was filled with curiosity about the martial arts he had never encountered before.

"The purpose of the stance is primarily to train one's spirit, eyesight, and the foundation of the waist and horse."

"Loosen your shoulders! Keep your neck straight, and stop hunching your back! Imagine a thread pulling up from the crown of your head!"

"Maintain this posture for one hour!"

Under the barked orders of Zhang Tieyi, the group clumsily scrambled to imitate him.

Chen Ye followed suit, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his mind regarding this unremarkable stance training.

This was a far cry from the flying, earth-shattering martial arts and soaring Sword Qi he had imagined.

One hour.

It didn't sound long.

During the first incense stick, most people still had the presence of mind to ponder how to distribute their strength.

By the second incense stick, the air was filled with uncontrollable gasping.

By the third, most of their legs began to tremble slightly—the kind that no amount of gritting teeth could suppress.

Thump.

Someone couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed.

Immediately after, thump, thump—the sounds followed one after another.

Several people slumped in the courtyard all at once.

Each one looked as if they had been fished out of water, their clothes thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

Chen Ye gritted his teeth, a surge of something—stubbornness or perhaps sheer ruthlessness—welling up inside him. He pressed his trembling knees down another half-inch and forced them to stay locked in place.

"Hoo... hah..."

Chen Ye tried to regulate his breathing.

He had run marathons in his past life and knew that when a person reached their limit, gasping for air only led to more oxygen deprivation; he had to make his breathing follow the rhythm of his body.

Chen Ye repeated this a few times and was astonished to find that the soreness in his legs had actually diminished slightly.

It hadn't vanished, but by using his breath, he had raised the threshold of that pain.

Chen Ye didn't have the time to ponder the principle behind it; he only knew that this allowed him to hold on longer.

By the fourth incense stick.

Zhang Tieyi had left at some point.

Aside from Chen Ye, only three people remained standing in the courtyard.

The fifth incense stick.

Two more fell.

The last guy competing against him, his face turning purple, held on for half an incense stick longer before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed straight to the ground.

Someone rushed over to catch him.

Chen Ye was still standing.

He didn't know why he was still holding on.

Zhang Tieyi had already left, no one was watching, and even if he gave up, no one would say anything.

But he didn't.

Because he felt that his body's limit hadn't been reached yet.

Not just a subjective assumption, but a genuine realization that he hadn't hit his wall.

By the sixth incense stick, Chen Ye's legs began to shake uncontrollably, as if they had been broken, and he lost all sensation in them.

He knew this was his true limit.

"Hoo..."

Chen Ye understood the principle that too much is as bad as too little, so he decisively broke his stance and exhaled a long, heavy breath.

The moment he let go, his legs turned to mush, and he couldn't stand at all.

Chen Ye quickly grabbed a nearby pillar to sit down, his chest heaving violently.

Sweat dripped from his chin onto the ground, leaving a dark, circular spot.

Just then, a strange sense of comfort welled up from his flesh and blood.

No.

It wasn't comfort.

It was a warm current emerging.

Chen Ye's expression froze.

He discovered a golden speck of light, no larger than a wheat awn, suddenly appearing in his field of vision.

The next moment, a soft screen of light, like silk brushed by a gentle breeze, unfolded silently before him.

He was stunned.

[System Initializing...]
[Host: Chen Ye]
[Physique: 0.8 (Weak)]
[Skill: Stance Training (Entry)]
[Status: Muscle fatigue, minor fiber tears]

[Name: Chen Ye]

[Current Martial Art: Foundation Cultivation Technique (Not Initiated)]

[Realm: None]

[Can pawn lifespan to obtain corresponding cultivation progress]

[After pawning, redeeming lifespan requires double the cost; limited to talent, luck, and wealth]

[Current Remaining Lifespan: Three years and sixty-one days]

Chen Ye stared at the last line, his expression shifting slightly.

Three years and sixty-one days.

He only had three years left to live!

And now, this Pawn System in front of him wanted him to trade his life for cultivation?

Chen Ye was rendered speechless, almost wanting to laugh.

Was it simply tired of him living too long?

But before he could laugh, his gaze drifted upward, noticing another line of information.

[Foundation Cultivation Technique (Not Initiated)]

It was Foundation Cultivation Technique, not Tiger-Capturing Fist!

Chen Ye narrowed his eyes slightly.

Was there something wrong with the cultivation method itself, or had the system "translated" Tiger-Capturing Fist into Foundation Cultivation Technique?

Or was Zhang Tieyi lying on purpose?

If it were the latter, then the problem was massive.

Chen Ye suppressed the shock and agitation in his heart, his expression returning to normal.

After resting for a moment, the crowd left one after another, assigned by the steward to clean latrines, sweep courtyards, draw and carry water, lead horses to drink, and tend to the cattle...

They were busy until the sun slanted westward before they were finally allowed to rest.

By the time he climbed onto the earthen bed that night, Chen Ye was exhausted, lacking even the strength to speak.

Seeing his state, his roommates extinguished their intentions to strike up a conversation and sensibly kept their silence.