Handan, Hebei.
Yongnian Guangfu City.
Inside an old courtyard, a dozen or so young martial artists stood bare-chested, still as rocks, their arms raised level before them, their hands loosely cupped around empty space, their feet set neither perpendicular nor splayed as they practiced standing horse stances.
They stood amid cutting frost and snow. Though they appeared motionless, a wisp of white vapor streamed back and forth through their mouths and noses like a roaming dragon, circulating without pause, wondrous beyond the ordinary.
Still outside, moving within. Though nothing stirred on the surface, inside they were almost like thunder striking fire and galloping steeds, their blood and vital energy surging like an unstoppable torrent. They were circulating their blood and vital energy to strengthen their hearts and lungs, temper their internal organs, and build their foundations.
They held this stance from deep into the night until the first light gradually appeared in the east.
This standing horse stance could be practiced urgently or at leisure. They might only have been standing, but abundant vital energy naturally replenished the spirit; even without sleep, they showed no fatigue.
The north wind swept up furious snow.
The wind and snow were fierce, yet the instant they touched these bodies, the frost and snow melted away.
Eleven people were present in all.
But in martial attainment, the man at their head was by far the most astonishing. Within a meter of his feet, not a flake of snow had accumulated, and the ground remained dry. Beyond that meter there was frost and snow, but the layer was still quite thin. Only more than two meters away did the snow lie thick, level with the surrounding blanket. From a distance, it looked like a conspicuous blot of ink spreading across the white snow.
He was