Dragon-Subduing

After Fatty Fang finished speaking, he immediately moved.

Every youth present widened their eyes, afraid of missing even the slightest detail.

Hook the feet, brace the knees, tuck the hips, open the shoulders.

Fatty Fang paused briefly, then propped his elbows, curled his fingers, and seated his wrists, his whole body taking on the posture of seizing a python and subduing a dragon.

He held the stance for roughly three breaths before withdrawing it and returning to a relaxed standing posture.

"Spread out. Each of you, imitate the Dragon-Subduing Stake I just demonstrated."

At Fatty Fang's command, the youths hastily focused themselves. They struggled to recall what they had seen while clumsily arranging their limbs, trying to recreate that fleeting, stunning posture.

"Get lost... get... go home and eat shit!"

Without the slightest mercy, Fatty Fang drove off those hooligans whose stances were awkward and devoid of all detail, as though swatting flies away.

The number of people in the yard dropped sharply, and his tone finally softened somewhat.

"You two are barely passable. One has five parts resemblance in form, and the other can imitate a trace of its spirit... but both of you are missing that one breath. Go home. With that bit of cleverness, couldn't you do something better?"

The two could not hide the disappointment on their faces, yet they did not dare argue. Dejected, they withdrew.

Once those two left, several youths who knew they were inferior also slunk away after them.

Very quickly, Chen Cheng was the only one still standing in the yard.

"Phew—"

Fatty Fang narrowed his eyes and examined Chen Cheng from head to toe several times.

The impatience and disdain on his pale, round face were swept away completely, replaced by surprise and appreciation.

He smacked his lips, and an unusual warmth entered his voice.

"Not bad! Truly not bad!"

"Seven parts resemblance in form, three parts resemblance in spirit... You even grasped the details of several key points... Good, good, good! I've finally run into someone with first-rate comprehension... a fine seedling!"

As the saying went, outsiders watched the spectacle, while insiders watched the craft.

More than anyone, Fatty Fang understood that, judging solely by this comprehension—the ability to seize the essence at a glance and reproduce the frame—calling Chen Cheng a genius would not be an exaggeration.

Since the Lower Academy had been established, there had been no more than three impoverished youths with such comprehension.

Unfortunately...

Chen Cheng's innate bones were far too poor.

Middle-low grade—one could even say they were simply low grade.

His qi and blood were both depleted, and his meridians sluggish. It was obvious that years upon years of hardship had dried him out and burned him to the wick.

No matter how high his comprehension was, it would be impossible for him to cultivate One-Incense Blood Qi within half a year.

"I can take you in, but once you sign the Death-Pledge Contract, there will be no turning back. You should consider it carefully."

Fatty Fang's tone softened considerably again.

"Thank you for giving me time to consider it."

Chen Cheng nodded and cupped his fists, his gratitude utterly sincere.

He knew very clearly that his innate bones were nowhere near the required standard. Without the Vertical Eye Mark as his trump card, signing the Death-Pledge Contract would be no different from committing suicide.

By telling him to think carefully, the other party was actually kindly reminding him not to destroy the rest of his life in a moment of impulse.

"I'll sign."

Chen Cheng did not think for long.

In the end, it was because he had already reached the end of the road.

If there had been a better choice, who would willingly stake their life on a sheet of paper?

"Come with me."

Fatty Fang said no more. He turned and stepped over the pitch-black threshold.

Chen Cheng followed closely behind and entered Dragon Mountain Martial Hall.

Beyond the entrance lay a flat, solid courtyard paved with bluestone.

A row of wooden training dummies stood in the southwest corner, their bodies polished to an oily sheen by years of pounding.

Not far away stood stone locks and stone carrying poles of various sizes. The largest was dark and heavy-looking, likely weighing no less than three hundred jin.

Though it was still early, seven or eight youths were already practicing in the yard.

Their ragged coarse clothes, and even the bluestone beneath their feet, had been soaked through with sweat.

And such day-after-day tempering had made their physiques far sturdier and more upright than those of ordinary impoverished youths.

Chen Cheng followed Fatty Fang across the courtyard and entered the main room to the north. Along the way, not a single youth glanced aside or lost focus, as though everything beyond their training had nothing to do with them.

Excellent innate bones and fine temperament—they truly were carefully selected good seedlings.

"Can you read?"

Fatty Fang took two prepared contract sheets from the drawer of a table and pushed them before Chen Cheng.

"My father paid for me to study for two years before. I can recognize some characters."

Chen Cheng accepted the contract sheets and read them word by word. Only then did he pick up the brush beside him and neatly sign his name.

Seeing Fatty Fang glance at the ink pad, Chen Cheng understood. He raised his hand and pressed a bright red fingerprint beside his name.

"That settles it."

Fatty Fang put away one copy of the contract and handed the other to Chen Cheng.

"Keep it safe. From this moment onward, you are a disciple of Dragon Mountain Martial Hall's Lower Academy."

"The hall's rules are all written on the Death-Pledge Contract. But you must remember these three rules below."

"First, if you encounter trouble outside, you may declare yourself a disciple of Dragon Mountain Hall's Lower Academy to preserve yourself for the moment, but you must never take the initiative to cause trouble!"

"Second, Lower Academy disciples are strictly forbidden from joining any gang or faction!"

"Third, sparring within the academy may only stop at the point. If you injure a fellow disciple and leave him unable to cultivate, the offender's term of pledged death will be doubled!"

"Yes, this disciple will remember."

Chen Cheng nodded in response, extremely solemn.

Fatty Fang nodded, then continued.

"My name is Fang Wenhou. I am one of the instructors here, as well as a disciple of Dragon Mountain Hall's Middle Academy. From now on, you may call me Senior Brother Fang."

"Yes, greetings, Senior Brother Fang."

Chen Cheng cupped his fists and bowed, his attitude thoroughly respectful.

"Come with me."

Fatty Fang said seriously.

"I will personally teach you the breathing method and the mnemonic verses for the transformations of the key points. We will strive to make your stake technique complete in both spirit and form within seven days, without error or omission."

"Senior Brother Fang..."

Chen Cheng remained where he was, looking somewhat hesitant, as though he wanted to speak but stopped himself.

[Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique]: Beginner (0/300)

The Dragon-Subduing Stake Chen Cheng had "imitated" earlier was deliberately restrained. If he wished, he could reproduce it perfectly at any time.

More importantly—

The breathing method that normally required instruction from a teacher, along with the subtle hidden transformations within each key point, had all been stripped away and seen through by the Vertical Eye Mark like unraveling silk from a cocoon, without leaving behind the slightest detail.

They had then all been bestowed upon Chen Cheng.

For that very reason, Fatty Fang's instruction was as useless to him as chicken ribs.

At this moment, something else concerned him far more.

"What is it?"

Fatty Fang narrowed his eyes at him. Before Chen Cheng could answer, his stomach rumbled out an answer first.

"You..."

Fatty Fang was so angered that he laughed. He shot Chen Cheng a hard glare and pointed toward a corner of the courtyard.

"The kitchen is beside the well! You have half a quarter-hour. Eat and drink your fill, then get back here! If you're late, don't blame me for not waiting!"

"Thank you for your consideration, Senior Brother Fang!"

Chen Cheng's eyes visibly brightened, but he restrained himself and solemnly cupped his fists in thanks before hurrying away.

Watching Chen Cheng's steady steps and the spine he tried his utmost to keep straight, Fatty Fang gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The moment Chen Cheng entered the kitchen, a warm fragrance of grain rushed toward him.

There was still quite a bit of coarse rice porridge left in the large pot atop the stove. Its quality was not especially good; he could clearly see bits of husk still clinging to the broken grains. Yet the porridge was quite thick, something ordinary impoverished people could only beg for and never obtain.

Chen Cheng filled a huge bowl to the brim with porridge, then took out a gray-flour flatbread the size of a washbasin from the steamer beside it.

He sat down in a corner.

He first took a huge mouthful of porridge. The texture was rough and the flavor bland, but as that warm, thick porridge flowed into his body, it felt as though his entire person had come "alive."

The gray-flour flatbread was very hard. He had to use some strength to tear it apart and chew it repeatedly before he could swallow it. It still tasted terrible, yet it gave his stomach an unprecedented sense of solidity.

The huge bowl was soon empty, and more than half the flatbread was gone.

Chen Cheng could not help thinking of his mother, who might still be hungry at this very moment.

He glanced at the remaining flatbreads in the steamer, then immediately withdrew his gaze.

The price of eating this food was signing the Death-Pledge Contract. Taking food out of the Martial Hall without permission was undoubtedly forbidden.

He took a deep breath and used the remaining flatbread in his hand to wipe up every last drop of porridge from the bowl, sending it all into his stomach.

When he was finished, he went to the water vat, washed the bowl clean, and returned it to the kitchen.

Only then did he hurry toward the plump figure in the courtyard.

Afterward—

Fatty Fang had Chen Cheng assume the stake stance himself, then personally corrected his mistakes and omissions.

Chen Cheng "learned" extremely quickly. Before long, there was no fault left to pick at.

"I will now teach you the breathing method."

Fatty Fang looked at Chen Cheng, who was still maintaining the stake stance, and spoke slowly.

"Inhale as though drawing silk—fine, long, and slow. Imagine Baihui receiving heaven's light, while every pore across your body opens to take in the new..."

"Exhale as though breathing out mist—heavy, even, and penetrating. Imagine the Dantian sinking into an abyss beneath the earth, while turbid qi enters the ground three feet deep through Yongquan at the soles of your feet."

He paused, then continued.

"These two sentences are easy to say, but achieving that state is harder than climbing to heaven..."

"Back then, it took me nearly half a month before I barely understood it..."

Before he could finish speaking, Chen Cheng's breathing changed completely in an instant.

And the state of "imagining Baihui receiving heaven's light, imagining the Dantian sinking into an abyss beneath the earth" naturally came to fruition the moment his breathing changed.

As for the secret transformations of certain key points, Chen Cheng could not even wait for Fatty Fang to teach him the mnemonic verses. He secretly began operating them on his own.

From that moment on, Chen Cheng's Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique entered a completely perfect state.

Within that state, he could clearly feel roots growing beneath his feet, his wrists bearing ten thousand jun, and his curled fingers seeming capable of seizing and subduing a true dragon.

"Yes, very good... Keep it up..."

Fatty Fang closed his eyes and listened closely to Chen Cheng's breathing.

A long while passed.

He found not the slightest disorder or sluggishness. It was so smooth and flowing that it seemed Chen Cheng had breathed this way since he was in his mother's womb.

[Dragon-Subduing Stake Technique]: Beginner (1/300)