Xu Qing returned to the martial hall after night had fallen completely.
The courtyard was empty, with only a few wind lanterns beneath the eaves swaying in the cold wind.
He walked straight into the inner courtyard, took off his outer robe and draped it over a rack, then began staking his stance in nothing but a thin training outfit.
The delicacies from the Golden Scale Banquet still churned in his stomach.
The medicinal fragrance of the treasure fish, the warmth of the Laba porridge, the rich fat of bear paw and deer tail—all of it had yet to fade. It gathered into a mass within his lower abdomen, and his dantian felt as though it were being warmed by faint embers. Warm, not fierce, yet enduring.
He took a deep breath, planted his feet neither square nor splayed, sank his shoulders and dropped his elbows, then steadily settled into the stance of the Three Talents Stake.
His qi and blood slowly circulated through his body, carrying that warmth from his dantian to every limb and bone.
He could feel every inch of muscle greedily absorbing the medicinal power.
The longer he held the stance, the heavier it became. His lower body grew ever more stable, his feet seeming to take root and become one with the earth.
One incense stick, two incense sticks, three incense sticks...
Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped onto the blue bricks, spreading into small wet patches.
He did not wipe it away. He did not even notice it. His entire mind was immersed in the circulation of qi and blood, utterly forgetting the passage of time.
Only when the moon emerged and climbed above the rooftops did he slowly withdraw his stance and exhale a breath of turbid air. The white vapor stretched