Gouchen

The Neijing clearly states: A balanced pulse corresponds to the four seasons—taut in spring, hooked in summer, fine in autumn, and stone-like in winter. The Nanjing interprets "stone" as "sinking," a view universally adopted by later generations. Since "hook" corresponds to summer and "sinking" to winter, "Gouchen" actually refers to summer and winter, much like how one might say "spring and autumn."

Xia Dong opened his eyes in a daze, a faint, ethereal bell tolling in his mind.

It sounded as if it were at the edge of the horizon, yet simultaneously emerging from deep beneath the earth, stirring an involuntary chill and sense of awe within him.

In an instant, he understood many things.

He had transmigrated, and his name was still Xia Dong.

This was... an ancient world.

At this moment, a mottled, dilapidated Bronze Ancient Bell resided within his mind.

Xia Dong could even "see" it clearly.

Scarlet, twisted characters slowly emerged on the body of the bell.

They looked like oracle bone script.

Xia Dong did not originally recognize these characters.

However, as he "gazed" at the bell, their meanings were naturally understood by him.

Name: Xia Dong.

Codename: Gouchen.

Talent: One Proof Eternal Proof.

Spirit Root: None.

Great You Dynasty, Pingyang County.

Xia Dong was eighteen years old this year.

His parents had passed away early, leaving behind no significant possessions; the only thing of value was perhaps this cramped little courtyard.

For the past three months, the neighbors had rarely seen Xia Dong.

But they often heard the sound of reading coming from the Xia family courtyard.

The reading was clear and resonant, carrying a sense of stability and peace.

When the neighborhood children passed by, they would unconsciously quiet down.

Three days ago, the county yamen runners beat gongs and drums to post a red notice outside his gate, and only then did the neighbors realize that the orphan in the alley—the young master of the Xia family—had quietly passed the exam to become a scholar.

With a respectable person emerging in the neighborhood, many neighbors naturally came to offer their congratulations.

A scholar was not a lord, but he did not need to kneel when meeting one.

Beyond that, there were many other benefits.

For instance, with a scholar in the neighborhood, if anyone had business at the yamen in the future, they would at least have a neighbor they knew who could help pass a word along to the county office.

Everyone happily pooled money to host a few tables of food for Xia Dong, and the gathering was lively and boisterous.

Several days later, the clamor faded into tranquility.

In the small courtyard, dark moss grew upon the blue bricks.

Xia Dong stood with his eyes closed, legs slightly bent, one foot touching the ground, his arms spread slowly like the wings of a crane.

This was a stance from the internal martial arts of his previous life on Earth—Crane Stance.

It was not intended for harming enemies or killing, but solely for strengthening the body, regulating qi, and harmonizing the blood.

Xia Dong inhaled down to his heels, his exhalations as soft as silk.

Sweat dripped onto the blue bricks, shattering into droplets.

His mind gradually sank into a state of extreme stillness.

In a trance, he seemed to transform into a solitary crane standing by a cold pool.

Let the turbid waves of the mortal world surge to the heavens; I shall quietly guard my own square inch.

A faint "crack" sounded from his joints, and his previously sluggish blood flow, like spring water breaking through ice, began to course smoothly through his limbs and bones.

Crane Stance, perfected.

At this very moment, deep within his sea of consciousness, in the shadows that were usually silent and still, the bell-sized Bronze Ancient Bell suspended there trembled slightly.

Clang.

A clear, ancient bell toll echoed leisurely through the depths of Xia Dong's soul. The sound was like the morning bell of an ancient temple, cleansing his spirit.

As the ancient bell vibrated, an indescribable, profound Dao rhythm flowed throughout his entire body.

One Proof Eternal Proof.

For the common man, practicing martial arts is like rowing a boat against the current; one day of neglect leads to ten days of regression. Maintaining the body at its peak is incredibly difficult, as aging, injury, and lethargy all cause one's cultivation realm to plummet.

But the moment the ancient bell tolled, every realization of the perfected Crane Stance and the ultimate trajectory of his circulating blood and qi were carved into Xia Dong's bones and blood as if by knife and chisel, forever branded within him.

Even if he were to stop practicing this stance for ten years, even if he were to suffer a grievous injury, the moment he extended his arms, he would still hold the most perfect posture of the white crane.

Unretreating and unchanging, constant as one.

Xia Dong slowly opened his eyes.

His limbs and bones felt no soreness or fatigue from his practice.

Instead, a wisp of warm, lingering energy had emerged within his body, silently nourishing his internal organs.

With every breath, it was truly like a white crane inhaling and exhaling—light, yet steady.

He withdrew his stance and glanced at the autumn leaves that had drifted into the courtyard at some unknown moment.

In the yard stood a jujube tree, and beside it, a dry well.

It was fortunate that it was a dry well.

Otherwise, the previous Xia Dong might not have been able to keep this small courtyard.

In the county town, any courtyard with its own private well belonged to a wealthy family.

The Xia family had only obtained this property through a stroke of coincidence.

Because someone had died in that dry well.

Presumably, the well had once held water, but after the death, it ceased to yield any, or perhaps it had been filled in.

In any case, it was considered inauspicious.

After passing the imperial examination to become a scholar, Xia Dong learned more about this alley from his neighbors.

This place had once been a grand, deep-walled estate.

After the death in their well, the property was gradually partitioned into many smaller households.

There were those who didn't believe in the curse and had rented or bought it, only to move out later for various reasons.

Eventually, Xia Dong's parents bought this courtyard.

Right, the identities of Xia Dong's parents were also somewhat peculiar.

His father was a Taoist priest.

As for his mother, it was said she came from a certain opera troupe in the capital.

After the two passed away, all funeral arrangements were handled by a close friend of his father's from his lifetime—Squire Qin of Linyuan Prefecture.

Back then, the two families had even drawn up a marriage contract for their descendants. The intended bride was none other than Squire Qin's daughter, Qin Wan.

Xia Dong had intended to wait a while before addressing this old matter, but he hadn't expected the Qin family to arrive so quickly.

Leading them was the old butler of the Qin estate.

In the cramped reception hall, the old butler did not sit, merely bowing slightly. His demeanor carried a worldly politeness and a subtle, hard-to-detect scrutiny: "Master Xia, my master has instructed me to say that the Qin family truly feels regret regarding the cancellation of the engagement. However, the young miss is blessed with great fortune and has been favored by the Qixia Immortal Sect; this worldly marriage can absolutely no longer stand."

At this point, the old butler paused deliberately, lowering his voice: "The Immortal Master has verified it; the young miss possesses a Rare Spirit Root."

The old butler then patiently explained in detail.

To the common folk, such things were like fairy tales, but to those of even slight standing, they were not top-secret.

The Great You Dynasty was not only ruled by the imperial court but also by the lofty cultivators. The territory of Linyuan Prefecture was the domain of the Qixia Immortal Sect. It was a behemoth so vast that even the Prefect himself had to bow to them as a junior.

The difference between immortals and mortals was like that between clouds and mud.

And the only bridge to cross this chasm was the "Spirit Root."

Without a Spirit Root, one could only wallow in the dust of the mortal world.

A Rare Spirit Root, however, was a precious seedling even within an Immortal Sect, with an immeasurable path ahead.

"A Spirit Root is something that is difficult to detect in a child, as their blood and qi have not yet settled," the old butler explained at length. "Most require one to be a bit older, between ten and fifteen, before the traits manifest. Once past fifteen, even if one possesses a Spirit Root, the best time for opening the meridians has passed, and the Immortal Sect rarely accepts them. My young miss will reach her fifteenth year on the fifteenth of July next year."

After hearing this, Xia Dong did not show the explosive rage of a youth insulted, nor the tearful shame of a poor scholar, as the old butler had anticipated.

He sat quietly in his chair, his expression as calm as an ancient well.

This unexpected stillness actually made the old butler's heart skip a beat. This former "future son-in-law," who had just become a scholar, seemed to have more depth than he had imagined.

Xia Dong gently rubbed the coarse porcelain teacup with his fingertips. After a moment of contemplation, he looked up and asked: "So, I am eighteen years old this year; even if I had a Spirit Root, there is no hope for an immortal path, is that right?"

The old butler sighed inwardly and leaned forward: "Master Xia, my master ordered me to tell you the truth. Several years ago, he secretly asked an adult from the Immortal Sect to examine you. You... do not possess a Spirit Root and are destined to be unable to cultivate. My master also warned that you must never again inquire about the world of cultivation, lest you bring disaster upon yourself."

"Bring disaster upon myself?" Xia Dong keenly captured the subtext. "What does this 'trouble' refer to?"

He did not believe Squire Qin was bluffing; the man seemed more like he was issuing a veiled warning.

The old butler shook his head, his expression guarded: "My master did not elaborate, only telling you not to delve deeper. He said that if you still have many doubts, you may come to the prefecture city for the provincial examination next autumn and ask him in person."

"Why wait until next year? Can I not go now?"

"The Master's exact words were that, for the moment... the timing is inconvenient."

Xia Dong nodded slightly, asking no further questions.

He stood up, took the yellowed marriage contract from his sleeve, and laid it flat on the table. His tone was calm: "I accept the compensation as a gesture of goodwill, but take the marriage contract back. If there is an opportunity next year, I will pay a visit to Squire Qin at his estate."

The old steward felt a weight lift from his shoulders and nimbly tucked the contract away. Regardless of the circumstances, this thankless task was finally complete. Though this young master of the Xia family was a scholar, the divide between immortals and mortals was vast; while breaking the engagement was a breach of honor, it was merely bowing to the mandate of heaven.

Once the Qin family entourage departed, the small courtyard returned to silence.

Xia Dong bolted the gate to the guest hall and turned to inventory the rosewood chests left behind by the Qin family.

Inside lay fifty taels of silver, neatly stacked, along with several high-quality stalks of aged ginseng.

He was indeed in need of money. Since crossing over, his mind had been filled with countless ways to generate wealth, but without the "respectable" veneer of a scholar's degree recognized by the government, he dared not put them into practice.

After all, a man is innocent, but his treasure makes him a target.

"Immortal cultivation..."

Xia Dong held a silver ingot in his palm, feeling the cold metallic texture, a flicker of imperceptible longing crossing his eyes.

Squire Qin had not lied to him; he truly possessed no spiritual roots.

On this point, the mysterious Bronze Ancient Bell within his sea of consciousness had long ago rendered its verdict.

To say he felt no regret would be a lie. But to expect him to accept his fate and live out his life as a mere ant was equally impossible.

Since he had arrived in this world, he was determined to see the scenery from the highest peak.

Moreover, he still possessed that ancient bell, along with the heaven-defying talent of One Proof Eternal Proof.

It was just that, even now, he had yet to fathom the deeper meaning behind the code name "Gouchen" inscribed upon the bell.

Was it some form of inheritance? Or did his predecessor belong to some hidden organization?

"If there is no path to immortality, then I shall practice martial arts. Since immortals exist in this world, the martial path must be more than just strengthening the body."

Xia Dong tucked the silver away securely, pushed open the door, and stepped back into the courtyard.

He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and assumed his stance. The movements of the Crane Stance flowed like clouds and water.

Ever since he had perfected his stance training, not only was his stamina far superior to before, but a faint yet genuine "qi" had begun to manifest within his body.

This qi was silently nourishing his internal organs, bringing about a marvelous transformation.

Xia Dong guided that thread of "qi" through his meridians to every corner of his body. In an instant, his physique seemed to shed its impurities, becoming incredibly light.

This was no illusion. As his blood and qi surged, he felt an urge to simply tap his toes and soar into the air.

He slowly opened his eyes, suppressing the restlessness in his heart.

"With this money, many things will be easier to accomplish." Although Xia Dong had passed the scholar's exam, he had not yet reached the level of a provincial graduate, so the gift money he received was quite limited.

With this compensation from the Qin family, his hands were finally much freer.

In truth, he held no resentment toward the Qin family; on the contrary, their actions might have been praised by many in his previous life.

In his past world, getting back a dowry was difficult enough, let alone receiving compensation for damages.

Therefore, this incident was not a case of "don't bully the young because they are poor," nor was it a matter of the tides turning after thirty years.

Xia Dong first took the money and went to a nearby apothecary to buy high-quality trauma medicine and bruise-healing liniment.

He had one thing he needed to verify next.

The night deepened, and the small courtyard was silent, save for the occasional rustle of the jujube tree by the dry well in the autumn wind.

Xia Dong sat under the dim oil lamp, toying with a short kitchen knife he had brought from the house. The blade was slightly chipped but still sharp, and he had taken care to sanitize it.

"I must determine exactly where the boundaries of 'One Proof Eternal Proof' lie."

He muttered to himself. The world of immortal cultivation was high and mighty, while the lives of mortals were like grass.

Before he could truly step into that world, this Bronze Ancient Bell existing in his sea of consciousness was his only trump card. He could not harbor any unrealistic fantasies about his own ace in the hole.

If One Proof Eternal Proof could regrow severed limbs, his future path could be incredibly bold; if not, any recklessness on his part could lead to total ruin.

Xia Dong did not hesitate. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing his forearm.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the short knife and slashed a one-inch-long gash into the muscle of his left forearm.

The skin parted, and bright red blood surged out instantly, dripping onto the blue bricks with a rhythmic drip-drop sound. A sharp, stinging pain traveled through his nerves to his brain, causing his breathing to quicken involuntarily.

Xia Dong stared fixedly at the wound, his brow furrowed, waiting quietly.

Ten breaths, twenty breaths, half an incense stick of time passed.

The Bronze Ancient Bell deep in his sea of consciousness remained silent. The wound continued to bleed, and there was no sign of the torn muscle knitting back together; aside from the blood flow slowing slightly due to natural coagulation, his arm did not instantly scab over like the monsters in legends.

"It seems that creating matter from nothing or regrowing severed limbs is impossible. The physical body still follows the material laws of this world."

Xia Dong took a clean piece of linen and calmly wrapped the wound tightly. The intense pain made his left hand tremble slightly, making it difficult to exert force. If it were an ordinary martial artist, even suffering such an external injury would affect the whole body, making it impossible to maintain a perfect stance; forcing himself to train would even lead to a chaotic flow of qi and blood.

"Then," he wondered, "what exactly is the function of 'One Proof Eternal Proof'?"

Xia Dong stood up, walked to the center of the courtyard, and closed his eyes.

He endured the tearing agony in his left arm and began to follow the memory of the perfected Crane Stance, sinking his shoulders, dropping his elbows, bending his legs slightly, and slowly raising his arms like a white crane spreading its wings.

The moment he lifted his left arm, the muscle damage caused a sharp pain that made him instinctively want to curl up and collapse.

But at that very instant.

"Clang."

Deep within his sea of consciousness, that clear, ancient bell toll rang out once more.

Something miraculous happened.

Xia Dong clearly felt that although his body was still registering intense pain, under the takeover of some profound "law" or "instinct," his left arm did not tremble in the slightest, remaining steadily at the most standard and perfect height.

Not only that.

The trace of warm "Qi" generated after perfecting the Crane Stance began to circulate within his body. When this Qi reached the injured meridians and muscle groups in his left arm, it did not dissipate or become obstructed by the physical damage.

This "Qi" seemed to possess a perfect, autonomous memory; with an incredible micro-adjustment, it bypassed the ruptured capillaries and muscle fibers, forming a perfect passage through the damaged area to continue flowing smoothly throughout his entire body!

After completing the stance, Xia Dong's forehead was covered in cold sweat from the pain, but his breathing remained as long and steady as an old tortoise, and the circulation of Qi and blood within him did not show a single moment of stagnation.

He withdrew his stance and stood tall, looking at the blood seeping through the linen cloth, his eyes flashing with an exceptionally bright light.

"I understand now."

Xia Dong quickly organized three conclusions in his mind:

First, the conservation of matter. The Bronze Ancient Bell cannot conjure flesh and blood out of thin air.

"One Proof Eternal Proof" cannot directly interfere with physical incompleteness; if a hand is severed, the hand is gone; if blood is shed, the blood is lost.

Second, the realm is absolutely constant. What the ancient bell locks is the "Dao" and the "realm."

Third, perfect compatibility with abnormal states.

"If the depletion and damage of the physical body do not lead to the collapse of the realm..." His thoughts drifted instantly, "Doesn't that mean that those heterodox paths or self-mutilating forbidden arts that burn essence blood and overdraw potential would have absolutely no side effects for me, provided I can replenish the depleted 'matter' afterward?"

In this world of immortal cultivators, ordinary martial arts naturally suffer from the problem of having too low a ceiling. But those demonic arts or forbidden techniques that carry a heavy price and that no one dares to practice might instead become an aid to his cultivation.