The Real Cultivation Method

At that moment, a gentle voice came from behind him.

"Husband, you must be tired. Would you like a drink of water?"

Lin Qing'er had somehow appeared at the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, her body leaning slightly forward.

The sunlight cast her shadow onto the mud wall behind her, stretching it long.

Feng Chen turned around, and his gaze fell on her. He paused.

Lin Qing'er had changed into the new outfit he had bought for her today: a plain, light-blue dress of fine cloth, its collar sitting neatly.

The clothes fit her well, outlining the soft lines a young girl should have beneath her slender frame.

Her hair had been combed again as well, tied behind her head with a cloth ribbon the same color as her clothes. A few loose strands hung by her ears, edged with a warm golden glow by the light.

Feng Chen looked at her for two seconds, then nodded. "All right, I'll have some water."

"Okay, I'll pour you some."

A smile blossomed across Lin Qing'er's face. She turned and was about to run to the kitchen, the hem of her new dress swaying lightly.

Feng Chen strode over and reached out, gently pressing a hand onto her shoulder.

"Wait."

His palm rested on her shoulder for a moment. Through the thin fabric, he could feel the sharpness of her shoulder bone.

He carefully looked her over from head to toe, the corners of his mouth slowly curving upward. "Let me take a look first. My dear Qing'er, how did you become prettier?"

Lin Qing'er's face instantly reddened, the blush spreading from her ears to her cheeks.

She lowered her head slightly, her voice much softer than before. "What do you mean? I've always looked like this."

"Hehe, you really did become prettier."

Feng Chen smiled and gently brushed aside the loose hair on her forehead.

Lin Qing'er lifted her eyes and glared at him. There was not the slightest hint of fierceness in that glance; instead, she looked like a little cat whose tail had been stepped on, soft and adorable.

After joking around for a while, Lin Qing'er still went to the kitchen and brought him a bowl of warm water.

After playing around for a while, Feng Chen returned to the room.

It was time to cultivate.

This was his first time seriously cultivating a martial arts technique. He had to be earnest.

He stood in the middle of the room, feet shoulder-width apart. Closing his eyes, he sank his consciousness into his Sea of Consciousness and brought forth Tiger Fist from beginning to end.

All the diagrams and text of Tiger Fist were arranged neatly in the depths of his mind, every move and every stance crystal clear.

He went through it once more, carefully reading the general principles of the fist technique several times.

The heart of Tiger Fist lay in imitating the might and methods of exertion of a fierce tiger. Its fist force was fierce and direct, breaking skill with strength.

To unleash such fierce fist force, however, one first needed powerful blood and vitality as a foundation. That meant beginning with stance training.

The stance method recorded in Tiger Fist was called Tiger Stance.

Feng Chen enlarged the page containing the stance diagram. It depicted a human figure with slightly bent legs and hands held in a circle, surrounded by densely packed annotations.

He went through it word by word, sentence by sentence. His weight settled on the Yongquan points; his spine was like a drawn bow, gathering force without releasing it; his arms encircled as if holding an invisible ball. His left palm tilted slightly upward—

Supporting a breath of qi within his chest, while his right palm tilted slightly downward.

Suppressing a force in his Dantian. With every breath, qi circulated between his chest and Dantian, like a fierce tiger lying hidden in the wild grass.

It seemed motionless, yet the blood and vitality throughout its body churned and surged in secret.

Feng Chen opened his eyes and slowly drew his hands into a circle according to the diagram. With his legs slightly bent, he assumed Tiger Stance.

The instant the stance settled, his muscles swelled slightly, and his bones gave off faint creaking sounds.

His blood seemed to flow a little faster than usual.

He knew he had gotten it right.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist proficiency increased by one.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist had reached the Beginner level.

The notification sound of his Destiny Talent rang out twice in succession.

Immediately afterward, insights regarding Tiger Stance surged through his mind!

The stance received its first subtle adjustment. Turning his left knee outward by another three parts would loosen the root of his hip more thoroughly, while lowering his right wrist by an inch would allow the sensation of qi at the Jianjing acupoint to flow more smoothly.

After digesting those insights, Feng Chen smiled. Then he closed his eyes and began cultivating in earnest.

He maintained Tiger Stance without moving.

At first, only his muscles felt swollen. After a while, his thighs began to ache, followed by his lower back, then his shoulders and back.

Sweat seeped from his temples, ran down his cheeks to his chin, and dripped onto the earthen floor beneath his feet.

He did not move, gritting his teeth and holding his posture in place.

Lin Qing'er quietly walked to the doorway and poked her head in for a look.

She saw Feng Chen holding a strange pose without moving, sweat beading densely across his forehead, while a large patch on the back of his clothes had already been soaked through.

Her footsteps stopped outside the threshold, surprise appearing in her eyes.

Is Husband practicing martial arts?

It was a kind of concentration that remained utterly still once rooted in place, like a beast crouching upon a cliff.

He's truly amazing.

Lin Qing'er softly murmured to herself. She did not make a sound to disturb him, quietly pulled the door mostly closed, and stepped away.

Husband was working hard, so she could not remain idle either.

She went to the corner, slung the bamboo basket onto her back, pushed open the courtyard gate, and headed into the mountains to gather more wild vegetables before dark.

An hour passed.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist proficiency increased by one.

Ding-dong, it has been detected that the host is seriously cultivating Tiger Fist. Destiny Talent A Thousand Miles a Day is now activating.

By this point, Feng Chen's stance training no longer had the shaky awkwardness of someone who had only just begun.

His body was firmly nailed to the ground, as though roots had grown from the soles of his feet. Sweat had soaked his entire shirt through, plastering it against his back and chest.

Revealing the faintly bulging lines of muscle underneath. With every breath, the surging of qi between his chest and abdomen became increasingly obvious.

Another half an hour passed.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist has reached the Minor Mastery Realm. Please check it, host.

The notification came with a vast flood of insights surging through his mind like a tidal wave.

Every key point of Tiger Stance was broken down and reorganized anew. From the way his toes gripped the ground to the curve of his bowstring-like spine, from the rhythm of his breathing to the path of his blood and qi circulation, every detail rose to another level.

He had even comprehended the basic fist paths of the first few forms of Tiger Fist!

Tiger Probes with Its Claws, Black Tiger Rips Out the Heart, Tiger Sweeps Its Tail—although he had yet to truly execute these moves, their principles of force and punch trajectories were as clear as if they had been carved into his bones.

After digesting this wave of insights, Feng Chen slowly exhaled a long breath of stale air. He opened his eyes, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

So he had reached Minor Mastery already.

He turned his head toward the window. Outside, the sun was sinking westward.

Lin Qing'er had yet to return, and the courtyard was quiet.

Judging by the sun, it was around four in the afternoon. There was still time, so he would practice a while longer.

Feng Chen closed his eyes, adjusted his posture once again, and continued standing in stance.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist proficiency increased by one.

Evening arrived.

The sky beyond the window was dim. The last rays of the setting sun squeezed through the lattice, painting several dark-red streaks across the floor.

Feng Chen stopped cultivating. His hands slowly withdrew from their circular embrace, and he let out a long breath, as though all the exhaustion accumulated through the day had left his body with it.

He closed his eyes and digested the final small wave of insights, then opened them.

It was not that he did not want to continue practicing. He was simply far too hungry.

Cultivating a martial arts technique like Tiger Fist consumed real, tangible energy.

The little rabbit meat and chicken soup he had eaten at noon had long since been completely burned away by an afternoon of intense stance training. The hunger in his stomach was fiercer now than it had ever been before.

It felt as though an invisible hand had seized and twisted his stomach. The rumbling sounds in his belly were so loud that even he could hear them clearly.

His legs trembled faintly as he stood, and the soles of his feet felt as though they were stepping on two clumps of cotton.

He truly could not endure any longer.