Gao Qiaoniang

Zhang Tieyi circled to the front of Chen Ye, his fingers joined like a sword, and struck key acupoints above and below his dantian in quick succession.

"The essence of this breathing technique lies in sinking your qi into the dantian while standing in the stance, then splitting it into three paths. One path climbs along the spine, while the other two surge into your legs. Inhale to store it in the Guanyuan, exhale to drive the force into the Yongquan."

Before his voice had even faded, he pressed his fingers down with a heavy, forceful thrust.

A domineering surge of internal energy slammed into Chen Ye's meridians.

The medicinal power of the Blood Ginseng Pill, which had been rampaging through his body, was struck by this external force and instantly shattered. No longer darting about aimlessly, it began to sink slowly along an invisible path.

The scorching pain eased, transforming into a thick, warm current that spread gradually throughout his body.

"Close your eyes and look inward. Focus your intent on the ancestral aperture at the tip of your nose. Clench your teeth, press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, lift your anus to lock your qi, and guide your intent from the gate of the soul, straight up the spine to the crown of your head."

Chen Ye dared not slacken and followed the instructions to the letter.

The initial steps were smooth enough, but when his intent began to climb the spine, it felt like carrying a mountain through a swamp; every step was heavy and arduous.

Beads of sweat the size of peas seeped from Chen Ye's forehead, sliding down his temples.

Yet, as he continued to try, this difficulty was worn away bit by bit.

The medicinal power scattered throughout his limbs and bones was gradually mobilized by the rhythm of his breathing, flowing along with it.

Suddenly, a surge of intent broke through the shackles and pierced the crown of his head.

The warm current in his dantian surged upward with a roar, rushing along his spine, splitting at the top, and pouring into his limbs and chest, completing a full cycle of the circulation.

In that instant, Chen Ye felt something strange.

It was as if his body had been a dark room with doors and windows sealed for years, and suddenly, a window had been pushed open.

A breeze blew in from the outside.

There was qi moving.

There was no sound behind him.

Zhang Tieyi stared at Chen Ye's sweat-drenched but motionless back, offering neither praise nor criticism.

"If you can persist with this breathing technique, it will temper your flesh and blood. The most direct result will be an increase in strength. Even with a preliminary grasp, you will be able to exert a hundred or two hundred catties more force than an ordinary person. If you can master it completely, even Mortal Shedding is possible."

"Practice well. I will come to check on you tomorrow morning."

With those instructions, Zhang Tieyi did not linger, turning to walk out of the small courtyard.

The door closed with a dull thud.

Chen Ye did not stop.

The medicinal power of the Blood Ginseng Pill had not yet been fully dissolved; that warmth continued to pour from his dantian, keeping him in agony.

He maintained his stance, using the breathing technique to mobilize the qi within him, digesting the medicine bit by bit.

His thighs grew numb, but the soles of his feet were searingly hot, as if he were standing on two heated iron plates.

The sun moved from his shoulder to directly overhead before the power of the Blood Ginseng Pill was finally mostly digested.

Only then did he let out a long breath, feeling much more comfortable.

Chen Ye slowly released his stance and straightened up.

He felt something subtle changing deep within his dantian.

It didn't feel like the burning sensation of the Blood Ginseng Pill; it felt more like a piece of charcoal buried in ashes, glowing silently.

He stood in the courtyard, silent.

Sweat from his face dripped onto the blue bricks.

Just then, the sound of a bellows interrupted his thoughts.

Chen Ye turned to look.

Wreaths of blue smoke rose from the chimney on the kitchen roof.

Gao Qiaoniang was preparing lunch.

He exhaled a breath of stale air and returned to his room alone, sitting on a bench, calming the qi in his body while waiting quietly.

Before long, the sound of the bellows stopped.

Gao Qiaoniang poked half her body out of the kitchen and called out, "Wait a moment, the food will be ready soon. I'll bring it out to you."

Chen Ye looked at the courtyard.

The scorching sun hung in the square patch of sky, and the air was thick with heat.

"No need to bring it out. It's too hot out here; I'll just make do in the kitchen."

"There's a fire going in the kitchen; it's even hotter in there."

Gao Qiaoniang's voice was soft, but her movements were efficient.

In a moment, she walked into Chen Ye's room with a tray, placing a dish of boiled vegetables and a dish of roasted meat on the table.

After setting down the food, she turned and went back out, returning with a bowl of white rice piled high.

This time, she skipped the tray, walking over with chopsticks in one hand and a bowl in the other.

Chen Ye noticed a silver bracelet with openwork patterns on the wrist peeking out from her sleeve.

It had likely seen better days, as the engravings were somewhat worn and blurred.

"Thank you for your hard work, Gao Qiaoniang."

Chen Ye did not let his martial arts progress go to his head, quickly rising to take the bowl from her.

Both of their hands touched the large yellow ceramic bowl at the same time.

His fingertips inadvertently brushed against her slender, delicate fingers at the bottom of the bowl.

The sensation was cool to the touch.

Chen Ye felt it was inappropriate and quickly pulled his hand back.

Gao Qiaoniang, however, seemed not to mind at all.

She said softly, "Eat first; if it's not enough, I'll add more for you. Guard Zhang instructed that for those practicing martial arts, seven parts are training and three parts are nourishment. From now on, you will be served meat every day."

Only after seeing Chen Ye begin his meal did she serve herself a bowl of rice and pick up a few chopsticks of pickled vegetables, pulling a chair to the kitchen doorway to eat slowly and deliberately.

She ate very gracefully, her posture even bordering on elegant.

Chen Ye glanced over; because of her chores, her sleeves were rolled up, revealing wrists as smooth and fair as lotus roots.

She sat there alone, as quiet as the small courtyard itself.

"Gao Qiaoniang, why don't you come over and eat with me?"

"You just eat your fill; I'm not a glutton."

Gao Qiaoniang's tone was flat, and she did not move.

Chen Ye picked up a piece of meat, carried his bowl over, and squatted down two or three steps away from her, chatting casually, "Your cooking is truly excellent, Gao Qiaoniang; this meat is so flavorful. I just noticed the silver bracelet on your wrist—it's quite exquisite. Was it a gift from the mistresses of the manor?"

Gao Qiaoniang finished chewing her food before shaking her wrist slightly. "This? It was left to me by my mother."

"No wonder, I can see you cherish it dearly. Where is your mother now? Is she still in the manor?"

"People in the manor say she returned to her hometown." Gao Qiaoniang paused. "I think she is likely dead."

Chen Ye's expression faltered.

He looked up at her.

When Gao Qiaoniang said this, her face was calm, and there was no ripple in her voice.

It wasn't coldness, but rather a sense of acceptance that had long since let go.

"Then life must have been difficult for you, being all alone in the manor," Chen Ye withdrew his gaze and sighed softly. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent a delicate girl like you to look after a rough man like me."

Upon hearing this, Gao Qiaoniang looked up at him, her eyes flickering with a hint of emotion, but she quickly lowered them and did not respond.

The two chatted idly in the courtyard like this until the food gradually ran out.

Chen Ye suddenly asked, "Gao Qiaoniang, do you know if anyone else has stayed in this courtyard before and practiced this set of punches?"

Gao Qiaoniang's hand, which was collecting the chopsticks, paused.

The silver bracelet clinked against the rim of the bowl, making a very short, light, crisp sound.

She stopped talking.

Gathering the chopsticks, she stood up and turned her back to him.

"I don't know. Would you like more rice?"

Chen Ye did not press the matter.

"No, I'm full."

The sound of water splashing in the wooden basin rang out.

Chen Ye looked at Gao Qiaoniang, who was washing the dishes in silence, lost in thought.

Although she hadn't answered just now.

The silence itself was the answer.

Someone else had been in this courtyard.

That person had also practiced this so-called Fixed Posture.

And then, that person was gone.