Taking a Disciple

"Forge the body into a shield."

"Temper the fists into cannons."

In the Snowfall Courtyard, thunder exploded within a few feet of space.

Despite his head of white hair, Zhao Changhe's figure showed not a trace of age as he moved like a phantom.

Yet every technique carried immense weight, brimming with speed and power.

His blend of stillness and motion was nothing short of perfect.

Zhao Changhe did not practice swordsmanship, nor did he carry any weapon.

As a mighty Fifth Realm Divine Ability cultivator, he relied instead on his pair of iron fists.

Snow no longer drifted through the air.

Even the snow accumulated throughout the courtyard had been swept away by the fierce winds of his punches.

"Cultivators practice Divine Abilities."

"In this old man's eyes, so-called Divine Abilities are simply means of fighting an enemy."

"When I was young, I was merely an ordinary martial artist. By chance, I acquired a cultivation method, but all those assorted Divine Abilities gave me a headache."

"So I simply made my martial skills into my Divine Abilities."

His words echoed through the courtyard, but then his momentum abruptly paused.

"Hah!"

With a thunderous shout, the old man emerged from his phantomlike, dragon-swift movements and settled into a fighting stance. Immediately afterward, his skin began to redden.

Even an ordinary person who knew nothing of cultivation could sense his presence steadily intensifying.

"This is Bloodburn. You must regularly draw Vital Breath from your qi sea and store it in designated acupoints and meridians. When facing an enemy, you use it to bring your blood energy to a boil..."

"It briefly increases your strength without injuring your body, though it has its limits. It lasts about three minutes..."

"Quite suitable for a reckless brat like you."

The old man suddenly leaped high into the air, gave another fierce shout, and smashed one foot down.

Ye Wuyou saw clearly that this move carried no Vital Breath. It was merely an ordinary demonstration of the technique.

Boom!

A crater roughly ten feet across was smashed into the courtyard floor.

Zhao Changhe slowly came to a standstill in the courtyard. After a long while, snow began drifting down again, and before long, another white blanket covered the ground.

The old man glanced at the intently focused Ye Wuyou and sighed.

"My fist technique uses broad, sweeping movements, and embodies half a lifetime of martial skill. Having seen it only once, you probably cannot understand its variations. Never mind, I will demonstrate it again..."

"I've memorized it."

What nonsense was this brat spouting now?

Zhao Changhe frowned slightly.

An ordinary observer would see this set of fist techniques as no different from the punches and kicks of a wandering martial artist. They would know it was formidable, but fail to grasp its spirit.

Its internal variations included how Vital Breath circulated through the seemingly casual punch he had just thrown, and how he released force within the smallest space.

Or how, when facing an enemy some distance away, he could turn Vital Breath into a fist, coordinating his footwork and movement to defeat them with a single blow from afar.

After seeing no more than the surface, at most memorizing the individual moves, the brat had the gall to claim he had learned it?

But soon, as Ye Wuyou stood in the courtyard and performed moves identical to those he had just demonstrated, a subtle change finally appeared on Zhao Changhe's aged face.

Damn it, was this brat a genius?

Ye Wuyou was not a genius.

The Formless Heart Sutra circulated silently. As though finding its own direction, the Vital Breath within him traveled along his meridians to the correct positions at precisely the right moments to exert force.

Just as he had previously learned Lu Caiwei's sword moves, Ye Wuyou now learned Zhao Changhe's fist technique without the slightest effort.

Likewise, only by performing it himself did Ye Wuyou appreciate what made Old Zhao's fist techniques different.

So that's how it works. This punch looks like a single punch, but the Vital Breath actually circulates instantly through the reverse-flow meridian, stacking layer upon layer. Its power is equivalent to ten ordinary punches.

As for Bloodburn, it's quite ingenious, and there should be more to it. Did Zhao Changhe leave that part out?

Zhao Changhe probably didn't demonstrate it to its fullest extent. Layering Vital Breath onto the wind of the punches could inflict greater damage and produce a stronger burst... but it was only a demonstration, after all.

In the end, however, to avoid unnecessary explanations, Ye Wuyou deliberately made mistakes at several crucial points, then pretended his Vital Breath had circulated improperly and barely managed to stop.

Good. This should just about qualify as a normal genius.

Ye Wuyou quietly turned his gaze toward Zhao Changhe.

Go on, old man. Be utterly stunned!

Yet what he saw was a perfectly composed Zhao Changhe.

Zhao Changhe stroked his beard, surveyed Ye Wuyou with an indifferent gaze, and sighed.

"That's it? I can only say you have a little talent, brat, but that is all. You fall short of what I was like back then..."

Ye Wuyou thought the old bastard must have gone mad. Hadn't he just said this embodied half a lifetime of martial skill? Shouldn't he himself have needed a lifetime of practice to achieve this?

Or was he truly just average? Was the Formless Heart Sutra nothing special? Were there simply too many geniuses in this world?

Ye Wuyou sank into profound self-doubt.

But Zhao Changhe soon exposed his true intentions.

With one hand behind his back and his gaze tilted upward at forty-five degrees, Old Zhao worked hard to fashion the image of a peerless master amid the swirling snow.

"Your talent only amounts to this... Never mind. Since fate brought us together, kneel and kowtow three times, and I will accept you as my disciple..."

By the end, his voice had even grown a little excited.

Ye Wuyou: "?"

Old bastard, your abacus is clattering louder than a brass bell...

Still pretending to be some lofty master, are you? Trying to hook me like this.

Do you take me for a fish?

Ye Wuyou considered briefly, then put on an expression of frustration and dejection.

"I'm honored that you think so highly of me, sir, but... I know my talent is inadequate. My path of cultivation will likely be full of rugged obstacles. I fear I would tarnish your illustrious name one day, senior. My conscience could not bear it. Perhaps we should forget it..."

Zhao Changhe had been listening leisurely while stroking his beard, but his expression changed toward the end.

"No. The world is vast, and everyone can be a dragon. Why should cultivation depend on talent?"

"I fear I would tarnish your illustrious name, senior..."

"An empty reputation, nothing more. Just keep moving forward, no matter whether the winds blow from east, west, north, or south."

"I was born poor, and my resolve to cultivate is weak. The glittering world dazzles my eyes..."

"No matter. Who doesn't love the glittering world? I have memberships at both the White Jade Tower and the Phoenix Arrival Tower. You can put it on my tab from now on."

"I... I... huh?"

Ye Wuyou froze.

After saying this, Zhao Changhe looked somewhat embarrassed himself. He pondered briefly before speaking slowly.

"Brat, I don't care what cultivation method you currently practice or what fortunate opportunities you have encountered. But..."

"Become my disciple, and I can give you the best pills, the best cultivation methods and Divine Abilities, and the finest divine weapons and blades."

"Throughout the Great Yan Kingdom, my name still carries some weight. If you take a fancy to a woman from any cultivation sect, as long as you can find a way to snatch her away and turn the raw rice into cooked rice, I will settle the aftermath for you."

At this point, Zhao Changhe also released just enough of his Fifth Realm pressure.

Ye Wuyou watched quietly, his resolve wavering.

This was bad.

He was tempted.

Over the past few days, his conversations with the four sisters of the seasons had given him a general understanding of the Great Yan Kingdom's current state.

The mighty Sixth Realm Divine Ability cultivators in the entire Great Yan Kingdom could be counted on two hands.

As a Fifth Realm cultivator, Zhao Changhe already qualified as a first-rate, peerless expert in Great Yan and in Skywave City.

He had no one to rely on in this world. Having a powerful figure as his master seemed rather nice?

Just as the man's brothel VIP memberships were about to break through Ye Wuyou's mental defenses, a clear voice rang out from the room beside them.

"Senior Zhao, you cannot do this."

He turned to see four lovely figures-Chun Tao, Xia Li, Qiu Gua, and Dong Zao-emerging from the little house.

Zhao Changhe frowned slightly, looked toward the four women, and said calmly.

"I merely wish to take a disciple. Why can't I?"

The four exchanged glances. In the end, Chun Tao, who was something of a disciple to Zhao Changhe, slowly stepped forward and spoke apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Master. You weren't aware of this... but the Prison Warden already said beforehand."

"He intends to take Young Master Ye as his disciple."