Genius

"Creeeak."

Yang Ge opened the door and saw the clear morning sunlight spilling over the little courtyard like gold. His gloomy mood immediately lifted.

He couldn't help smiling. Clenching his fist to cheer himself on, he said, "Another day full of energy... right, Little Yellow?"

Little Yellow wagged its little tail. "Arf, arf..."

"Good dog!"

He bent down and rubbed the dog's chubby head, then raised his head, puffed out his chest, and stepped into the brilliant sunshine.

A thick chunk of wood flew high into the air.

Yang Ge tracked it with his eyes. As it fell, he twisted into a whipping kick, sweeping into the wood with pinpoint accuracy amid a deep burst of air.

Crack.

The wood snapped in two, flying halfway across the courtyard before striking the wall.

Yang Ge examined the two pieces, then thoughtfully pulled the Eighteen Routes of Chaotic Wind Kicks manual from his waistband. He turned to the "Fifth Route Splitting Kick" page and carefully studied its method of generating force once more before putting the manual away and bending down to continue sorting through the clutter in the middle of the courtyard.

He had to clear out everything useless before he could buy furniture for himself.

If he had enough time...

He also wanted to build a toilet in the courtyard, repair and rearrange the roof tiles, and put a few more windows in the wooden house.

Ideally, he could plant some greenery in a corner and dig a little pond to keep fish, turtles, and the like.

Oh, right, he also had to make Little Yellow a doghouse, buy a cat, and get a few chickens...

As he rummaged through the clutter, he planned the shabby little courtyard's renovation. Casually picking up a short, thick chunk of wood, he tossed it lightly into the air, then raised his leg and brought a splitting kick crashing down on it.

Bang.

The wood abruptly burst apart, scattering splinters over half the courtyard.

Yang Ge paused, looked down at his foot, then scrutinized the scattered fragments, confirming that insects hadn't hollowed out the wood.

Something seemed to occur to him. He deftly pulled the Wild Wind Leg manual from his waist and turned to the first part of the general principles, sliding his finger along the text until he found the maxim: "Strength rises from the earth; force issues from the heart."

He pondered the meaning of those words while slowly recalling how that kick had felt.

After mulling it over for roughly fifteen minutes, he suddenly stamped his foot, jolting a stool leg into the air. The instant it rose, he lashed out with a snapping kick, striking it precisely.

There was only a muffled crack.

Instead of flying away from the kick, the stool leg exploded like a firecracker right in front of Yang Ge's toes, scattering splinters everywhere!

"Whoa!"

Yang Ge's eyes widened. Carefully savoring that sensation of something shooting out through his toes, he cheered for his own amusement, "That's fucking awesome!"

If he had known this move two nights ago, that man in black would never have made it out of the Welcome Inn!

His interest piqued, he took the Wild Wind Leg manual back to the doorstep and sat down, reading all eighteen routes of kicks from beginning to end again in the brilliant daylight.

This martial art was called the "Eighteen Routes of Chaotic Wind Kicks."

As its name suggested, it comprised eighteen routes of kicking techniques!

Those eighteen routes were divided into twelve training routes and six combat routes.

The twelve training routes taught and conditioned the twelve basic kicking techniques: first, snapping; second, stamping; third, intercepting; fourth, thrusting; fifth, splitting; sixth, hooking; seventh, lifting; eighth, sweeping; ninth, whipping; tenth, driving; eleventh, knee strikes; twelfth, swinging.

Each route had different training methods. The first route, snapping kicks, for instance, included straight snapping kicks, airborne snapping kicks, chained snapping kicks, double flying snapping kicks, and more. Each method required a different way of generating force and a different breathing rhythm.

It had to be noted that, although each of the twelve basic kicking techniques possessed considerable power when mastered, they did not form a cohesive system. Against mediocre opponents, quick reactions and the power of the kicks might suffice to crush them outright, but against an evenly matched expert, they would leave the practitioner stretched thin and thwarted at every turn.

After all, techniques were dead, while people were alive. An enemy wouldn't stupidly wait for an airborne snapping kick to miss, then stand there to receive a chained whipping kick.

The six combat routes were killing moves that bound those twelve basic techniques together, producing a chemical reaction: first, Catching Wind and Chasing Shadows; second, Strong Grass in a Fierce Wind; third, Raging Wind and Driving Rain; fourth, Wind Sweeping Away the Last Clouds; fifth, Wind Blades and Snow Arrows; sixth, Wind Howling Through a Desolate Valley!

The most prominent feature of these six combat routes was speed-speed taken to the absolute limit, ideally so fast that all the enemy could see was a sky filled with shadows of kicking legs!

Their second feature was recklessness, each move more reckless than the last. The first three routes still left some room to maneuver, allowing the practitioner to strike once and retreat.

The final three were another matter. Once unleashed, even their best outcome was mutual injury... especially the final route, Wind Howling Through a Desolate Valley, which could practically be described as a move for taking the enemy down with you!

Of course, the stronger the killing move, the more it depended on force. If that force was too weak, even a nuclear-bomb-level technique could muster only the power of a tiny friction-lit firecracker.

"To train all these kicks into bodily instinct, and memorize all these combinations and breathing rhythms..."

Yang Ge stared at the three variations of "Catching Wind and Chasing Shadows," each with four or five breathing rhythms and seventeen or eighteen complex sequences of kicks. Just looking at them made his eyes swim and his head feel as big as a bushel basket.

He could hardly imagine how much painstaking effort he would have to devote to this kicking art to turn such complex killing moves into unconscious instinct!

Yang Ge couldn't help sighing. "You really can't pit your hobby against someone else's livelihood!"

But... channeling inner force?

Dubiously, he held out his left hand and spread his fingers.

Under his gaze, the five fingers first reddened and swelled one after another.

Then they reddened and swelled in alternating groups: one, three, five; two, four; one, three, five; two, four.

The alternation grew faster and faster, until no redness or swelling could be seen with the naked eye. He could only feel the burning heat in his fingertips... as though his five fingers were frantically playing "Senbonzakura" on a red-hot iron plate!

Isn't this pretty easy?

Puzzled, he flipped through the manual on his knees. Why does the book go on about tonics and medicinal baths, circulating blood and vital energy, embracing the origin and guarding the one... isn't that all just pure bullshit?

He thought for a while, then suddenly slapped his forehead in realization and murmured dazedly, "Forgot again. I'm a peerless genius now!"

Even counting generously, he had only had this manual for a day and a night. Reading it through two or three times was already no small feat. How could he have found time to study its instructions for cultivating inner force in detail?

When that instinctive kick had unleashed inner force earlier, he had simply assumed inner force was a basic martial arts skill.

Only after carefully rereading the entire Wild Wind Leg manual did he discover that this didn't seem to be the case.

According to the book, an apprentice of suitable age first had to diligently practice the twelve training routes for two to three years while taking tonics to replenish blood and vital energy. Then, after adding medicinal baths to strengthen the foundation and nourish their reserves for another six to twelve months, they could use a special mental method to circulate blood and vital energy and condense inner force...

In other words, under normal circumstances, even an apprentice of suitable age would need at least two and a half years before attempting to condense inner force.

No wonder an official as high-ranking as Shen Fa would lower himself to chew the fat with a nobody like me... this side effect of transmigration is really something!

Having sorted it out, Yang Ge rubbed the manual and muttered furtively to himself.

Just then, someone suddenly pounded hard on the courtyard gate.

Bang, bang, bang.

"Young man, young man, are you home?"

It was Wang Dali's voice.

Yang Ge got up and went inside, then quickly came striding back out empty-handed. "Coming, coming."

"Creeeak."

Yang Ge opened the courtyard gate to find Wang Dali gasping for breath. "Young man, they... they've caught someone!"

Yang Ge asked in surprise, "Caught who?"

Unable to explain clearly, Wang Dali grabbed his wrist and pulled him outside. "Come on, hurry! The innkeeper's waiting for us!"

"Hold on, let me lock the gate!"

"This dump? Even a rat would leave you a couple of copper coins if it came in. Who'd steal your stuff?"

"Never mind that. I'm locking it anyway..."