Perfectly Round Stance

Zhao Mu handed his weapon to Duan Rong, stretched lazily, then strolled over to the weapon rack and casually grabbed a discarded saber.

Standing before the others, Zhao Mu flicked his right hand in a flourish of the blade and said, "I'll demonstrate Antelope Offering Food twice more. Watch carefully!"

Zhao Mu first performed it at full speed. His legs sprang and the saber spun, his movements flowing like drifting clouds and running water, carrying a practiced rhythm that made the Menial Disciples burn with envy.

"Watch closely!"

Zhao Mu barked again, then performed it once more at a slower pace, explaining the key points as he moved.

"Step forward with your right foot, placing it before the left. Lift your left foot and snap-kick forward!"

"At the same time, swing the saber in your right hand from the front in an arc toward the lower right, then sweep it upward before you, blade facing up and tip pointing forward!"

"..."

After finishing his demonstration and explanation, Zhao Mu turned to look at the blank-faced Menial Disciples. He cleared his throat with a cough and said, "Come on. Do it twice each. Let me see."

Once Zhao Mu had spoken, the Menial Disciples crowded around the weapon rack and noisily pulled down sabers.

Zhao Mu turned toward the courtyard gate and saw Duan Rong sitting there in a daze. He walked a few steps closer and called, "Kid, have you finished wiping the saber?"

Duan Rong froze for a moment, then lifted his head. His eyes seemed unfocused as he stared blankly at Zhao Mu.

Zhao Mu was about to lose his temper. He thought Duan Rong was unhappy about being made to wipe the saber and was deliberately putting on that vacant expression to mock him.

But then Duan Rong seemed to come back to himself. Though his gaze was still somewhat vacant, he rose to his feet, sheathed the saber in his hand, and presented it before Zhao Mu with both hands.

Seeing this, more than half the anger rising in Zhao Mu's heart subsided. He took the saber, placed the discarded blade in Duan Rong's hands, and said with faint irritation, "Return to the ranks!"

Duan Rong looked down at the discarded saber he held in both hands, seeming to take a long while to understand. Then he took the saber and returned to the group of Menial Disciples.

Watching Duan Rong's lost and bewildered appearance, Zhao Mu muttered, "Could that fever from a few days ago have burned him stupid?"

Duan Rong stood at the very back of the line, merely remaining there in a daze. Unlike the other Menial Disciples, he had not begun practicing with his saber.

Today was already Zhao Mu's second day teaching the move Antelope Offering Food.

These Menial Disciples were not stupid. They could all copy the gourd by painting the ladle and perform the sequence, but only three of them could truly make it look like something: Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng.

Over the past few days of teaching these Menial Disciples, Zhao Mu had noticed those three. Of them, Kong Bin had the best natural build and practiced the sequence with the most convincing form. Li Chong and Zhang Zheng came next, neither inferior to the other.

Zhao Mu only gave those three focused instruction, correcting the finer details of their movements. As for the others, he merely swept his eyes over them.

When everyone had finished their drills, Zhao Mu said in a deep voice, "All right. Go practice carefully. Practice makes perfect!"

"Now, all of you stand in stance! Since ancient times, before practicing fists, one must first stand in stance!"

"If you cannot stand properly, your hands and feet will never produce force! Without force in your hands, even the finest sequence is just flowery posturing—useless!"

The Menial Disciples set their sabers beside their feet and began their stance training.

The stance art Zhao Mu taught them was an ancient stance known as the Perfectly Round Stance.

Their feet formed a bow stance, their hands loosely embraced before their chests, and their five fingers spread slightly apart.

When standing in stance, the body had to contain five bows: the body bow, the left and right arm bows, and the left and right leg bows.

Of the five bows, the body bow was primary, while the arm bows and leg bows were secondary. With all five contained within one body, the five bows became one, forming a unified, coordinated force throughout the body.

Other than Duan Rong, who stood holding his saber without moving, all the other Menial Disciples assumed their stances.

Zhao Mu still only instructed Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng, patting their shoulders and elbows as he adjusted their posture.

The sight made the other Menial Disciples burn with envy.

After guiding the three through their stance training, Zhao Mu tucked the Oxtail Saber beneath his arm and left without looking back.

Each day, he spent no more than half an incense stick's time teaching these Menial Disciples.

And from beginning to end, Zhao Mu did not look at Duan Rong again.

Duan Rong appeared stupidly dazed, but his mind was actually quite clear. Or rather, he could distinctly sense that his thoughts had become sluggish.

It was as though some "thing" had been stuffed into his mind, swelling it so badly that it could no longer function, like a stomach so full that movement became inconvenient.

The lingering glow of the setting sun spilled into the courtyard, reflecting off the sweat-drenched faces and bulging veins of the Menial Disciples.

Some clenched their teeth until their cheeks puffed out, forcing themselves to hold on with a single breath.

Standing in stance could generate force precisely because it consumed so much.

When practicing forms, or even fighting someone, muscles throughout the body took turns being engaged.

By taking turns, they could rest in turns. But in stance training, every muscle in the body exerted force at once, and the expenditure abruptly multiplied severalfold.

In less than half an incense stick's time, some could no longer endure. The moment their breath leaked away, all their muscles began to ache. As soon as they straightened up, their bodies went limp, and they could no longer maintain the stance.

Several Menial Disciples whose strength had dispersed looked enviously at Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng. They shook their heads, sighed, and left the courtyard with gloomy expressions.

Amid the fading crimson light, faint steam could be seen rising from the bodies of Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng.

The more standard the posture, the greater the expenditure. Their stances had been personally corrected by Zhao Mu, making their exertion the greatest among all the Menial Disciples, yet the three of them could usually persist until the end.

Seeing people leave the courtyard one after another, Duan Rong managed to react despite his sluggishness and followed the crowd outside.

The Menial Disciples were all in low spirits and had no desire to talk. Each walked silently on his own.

When it came time to practice martial arts tomorrow, several more of them would likely be absent.

The Menial Disciples arrived at the kitchen of the Servant Yard and began collecting their evening meal.

Only when Duan Rong smelled the food did a wave of hunger suddenly strike him. He lined up and received a bowl of cabbage soup and two cornmeal steamed buns.

Duan Rong finished every drop of soup and every bite of the steamed buns before staggering toward the place where they usually slept.

Night had only just fallen, and not a single person was on the Large Shared Bed. Duan Rong lay down directly and fell asleep at once.

He felt the "thing" inside his mind slowly melting like ice, merging into his soul.

In a secluded courtyard not far from the Li Yuan Shun Escort Agency.

After dinner, Zhao Mu washed himself with water from the courtyard well, then, bare-chested, picked up the Oxtail Saber.

Zhao Mu's routine was to practice every night—run through several sets of forms, then stand in stance for an hour.

From Menial Disciple to apprentice, and now to Trainee Escort, he had risen not only through a measure of talent, but because diligence was an indispensable quality.

Zhao Mu had only performed a few moves with the Oxtail Saber when he suddenly stopped suspiciously. By the dim yellow light shining out from the doorway, he looked at the Oxtail Saber in his hand.

He had used this saber ever since becoming an apprentice. It had been two or three years now, and he had long grown deeply attached to it.

Especially over the past half year or so, whenever he held it, he had faintly felt a kind of resonance between man and saber.

But tonight, that feeling had suddenly vanished...

"That's right, it's my saber!" Zhao Mu stared at the blade gleaming coldly beneath the lamplight, his expression strange.

He weighed the saber in his hand, swung it twice, and muttered, "What's going on? It doesn't feel right in my hand at all... It's more like I'm gripping a brand-new saber..."