The journey was boring, but Zhang Qingyuan was extraordinarily happy.
Thinking back to the novels he had read in his previous life, there were always male leads who liked raising little girls, enjoying that sense of achievement from nurturing them.
He was playing the nurturing game now too, except his subject was Zhang Junbao, who was the same age as him, just two months younger.
Zhang Qingyuan had inherited little of the original owner's memories, only a few particularly vivid fragments.
The original owner's strongest memories were of farmwork. He had also been a dab hand at setting traps and hunting.
There was a man in those memories, a man who had treated him well.
After that came fleeing disaster, eating grass roots, Guanyin clay, and the like along the way.
From these fragments, Zhang Qingyuan guessed that the original owner had been a country boy who had farmed and hunted with his father since childhood.
And for a country fellow to have fathered someone as good-looking as the original owner was rather incredible.
Zhang Junbao was a fun-loving fellow. Spend enough time with him, and you would discover that he was neither dull nor someone whose great wisdom hid behind a foolish exterior.
He talked a lot and possessed a boy's innocent exuberance.
Zhang Qingyuan suspected that most martial arts worlds probably had a grandmaster surnamed Zhang.
Just as every martial arts world seemed inseparable from Damo, the founding patriarch of Shaolin Temple, Wudang's Zhang Sanfeng had counterparts in many worlds, and every one of them was immensely powerful.
People like them belonged to the realm of legend.
In the original novel The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber, Zhang Junbao was perceptive, rather shrewd, and extraordinarily gifted in martial arts. After parting with Guo Xiang, he wandered alone to the foot of Mount Wudang and devoted himself to studying Taoist scriptures. Only after passing thirty did he attain profound enlightenment, creating martial arts and founding a sect as a grandmaster of his generation.
In Jet Li's film version, Zhang Junbao possessed great wisdom behind a foolish exterior and a disposition that neither fought nor competed. He was equally gifted, but his temperament left him unwilling to struggle for supremacy, content to muddle along. After suffering his senior brother's betrayal, he received guidance, attained profound enlightenment, and grasped the true essence of martial arts.
Dicky Cheung's television version... sorry, he hadn't watched all of it.
Vincent Chiao's version had something of an old rascal about him.
Sammo Hung's version was closer in temperament to the image of the Scruffy Taoist.
If these versions of Zhang Junbao were treated as different personalities in parallel worlds, their fates were actually much the same: each had to undergo an upheaval before attaining profound enlightenment.
Though their personalities differed enormously, one thing never changed: every Zhang Junbao was a top-tier figure with extraordinary martial talent who could create his own martial arts.
Wasn't that precisely why Zhang Qingyuan had brought Zhang Junbao along?
To Zhang Junbao, he was the big brother nurturing his growth.
And what was Zhang Junbao to him?
A golden finger, a thigh to cling to, a system, a portable old grandpa!
The two arrived at a large town called Sanhe Town, named for the three rivers outside it.
The three rivers converged here, making it a major artery for waterborne trade.
It was guarded by a substantial force, and there were plenty of gangs, large and small.
Here, Zhang Qingyuan rented a courtyard residence: a little courtyard, three rooms, and a kitchen.
He also bought two sets of bedding, along with pots, bowls, and other necessities.
He even had a Taoist robe made for Zhang Junbao. The cloth was poor, but at least it was new clothing, and now they could count as wearing matching outfits.
By the time everything was in place, Zhang Qingyuan had spent every last scrap of silver he had.
Zhang Junbao had no objection to becoming a Taoist. After all, he had already been struck from Shaolin Temple's rolls.
Besides, he was very grateful to Zhang Qingyuan and did whatever he was asked.
Once they had settled everything, the two gnawed on steamed buns and drank thin porridge.
Meat was beyond their means. They would keep everything simple.
At the table, the two brothers ate their first meal in Sanhe Town.
"Ahem."
Zhang Qingyuan cleared his throat twice, and Zhang Junbao looked up.
"For now, we'll settle down here."
"Mm."
"You don't need to worry about earning money." Glancing at the puzzled Zhang Junbao, Zhang Qingyuan explained, "There are plenty of martial artists around these days, and not everyone in the jianghu is a decent fellow.
"Between us, although I can perform a boxing routine, it has no destructive power. I couldn't even beat a sturdy fellow, so I'll have to leave our safety to you."
"Mm." Zhang Junbao thought that only natural.
"So don't do anything else this month. Focus on improving your martial arts first. There are a few Taoist scriptures in my bag. Study them when you have time, work on your martial arts, and think up some new moves when you're free. Then teach me when I get back in the evening."
"All right."
Obedient and sensible, Zhang Junbao quietly listened to his instructions.
"Oh, right." Remembering something, Zhang Qingyuan asked, "You don't know any internal cultivation, do you?"
"No. Unless you're an inner disciple of Shaolin Temple, you don't get to learn Shaolin's internal cultivation," Zhang Junbao explained.
Inner disciples were proper ordained monks, and ones who had passed the selection at that.
The selection at Shaolin where Zhang Junbao had previously distinguished himself had been intended to identify promising disciples and teach them internal cultivation methods.
Yet Zhang Junbao, the most gifted of them all, had been driven out because of the understanding of the abbot who headed the Dharma Hall.
There was no helping it. However skilled you were with fists and feet, you could not match someone with internal power. That was common knowledge.
Internal power was a special kind of energy that could enhance strength, speed, and all manner of bodily functions.
An ordinary person's punch carried a hundred jin of force, while internal power could raise that to several hundred or even a thousand jin. Experts could even project their internal power outward, turning it into flames, frost, lightning, energy waves, and the like.
Zhang Junbao, who practiced only fists and feet, had fought an expert with two years of internal cultivation who could already project his internal power outward. Both used Shaolin boxing techniques, yet Zhang Junbao had won without a shred of internal power. How was that possible?
If the other fellow had only just begun internal cultivation, with little improvement to his abilities, then winning through technique would have been understandable.
But his Prajna Palm could already split mountains and shatter stone, yet he still couldn't beat someone without internal power. Explain that.
Was he too stupid?
How stupid would he have to be to lose to pure technique when all his physical abilities outstripped his opponent's by such a vast margin?
"Hey, how did you beat that guest-reception monk back then? How many moves did you use?" Zhang Qingyuan suddenly asked. Though he knew Zhang Junbao had never practiced internal cultivation, defeating an expert through technique was truly incredible.
Zhang Junbao thought for a moment, then stood and demonstrated. "At the time, I didn't know he was already a formal disciple. But Master Jueyuan had told me that when facing an enemy, I should strike like a lion hunting a rabbit and never give the enemy a single opening."
"Mm, and then?"
"Then we stood facing each other like this. After we exchanged salutes, before he could attack, I stepped forward and jabbed his neck with sword fingers. He instinctively covered his neck after being struck, so I seized the chance to use Twin Winds Strike the Ears, then grabbed the back of his head and drove my knee into his face."
He demonstrated the movements as he spoke.
Zhang Qingyuan watched his fingers shoot out so swiftly they became a blur, followed immediately by both palms striking inward, flowing into a downward pull and an upward knee strike.
After watching, Zhang Qingyuan slapped the table and exclaimed, "Zhang Junbao, how dare you still claim you don't know internal cultivation!"
Startled, Zhang Junbao looked at him. "I really don't. I've just carried water up the mountain since I was little, so I'm faster and stronger than most people."
"Impossible. I heard your palms cutting through the air just now."
"Huh?"
"Use your hand and strike this table with your most forceful move."
"Oh."
Zhang Junbao circulated Qi through his left hand and struck the table with his palm. It instantly shattered into pieces.
Seeing the table break and the bowls and chopsticks fall all over the floor, he himself found it unbelievable.
"Isn't that fucking internal power?"
"This is internal power?" he asked in surprise.
Zhang Qingyuan nodded. "You must have developed a sense of Qi through your regular training. You already have internal power in your body. You just didn't know because you've never practiced internal cultivation."
"Really? I have internal power?"
Zhang Junbao stared at his hands in astonishment, recalling everything that had happened over the years.
"Yes. Haven't you felt any changes inside your body?"
He shook his head again. "Nothing changed. I always thought I had no internal power. Even what internal power was, I only knew from hearing those senior brothers talk about it."
"Your master never told you either?"
"He's never practiced internal cultivation either!"
"Right, I get it."
This plot was much like Zhang Junbao's in The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber. He and his master Jueyuan had found the Nine Yang Divine Skill in the Lankavatara Sutra. At first, they had thought it was merely scripture for nourishing Qi, only later discovering that it was a peerless martial art.
But this Zhang Junbao and his master had simply developed a sense of Qi through midnight meditation and their regular exercise, and neither had thought anything of it.
Seeing Zhang Qingyuan lost in thought, Zhang Junbao asked anxiously, "Brother Yuan, what do you get?"
Zhang Qingyuan explained his conjecture, and only then did Zhang Junbao understand.
"I was wondering why my appetite suddenly increased when I was fifteen, and my strength grew so much along with it. So that was internal power.
"Whenever I carried water up the mountain, I would draw on the Qi in my dantian. I used to think it was just a trick for saving effort, but from what you're saying, I was circulating Qi automatically and using internal power to help."
"Your master didn't know that was internal power either, did he?"
"No. He's stronger than me, but he never said he had internal power either.
"When I was fifteen, I ate more and worked more. Master said I was at the age for growing taller-a half-grown lad could eat his old man out of house and home."
"So the head monk actually saw that you had internal power and thought you'd secretly learned it. Saying you had internal power wasn't a false accusation. The false accusation was that you'd secretly learned Shaolin martial arts," Zhang Qingyuan said in the head abbot's defense.
"Maybe."
"Well..."
The two brothers exchanged a look and sighed.
A long while later, Zhang Qingyuan suddenly said, "Think it over yourself first. I'll earn some money, then buy a few books on meridians. Ideally, I'll buy an internal cultivation method for you to study."
"All right."