Were there people in this world who could develop internal power through their own exploration?
Yes.
Thinking carefully, quite a few names came to mind, and every one of them was a genius.
To be honest, the Shaolin head monk had been rather unreasonable to punish him by that standard.
As the saying went, prejudice in people's hearts was a mountain.
Just think of Zhang Junbao in The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber. Hadn't Shaolin Temple misunderstood him after he comprehended Arhat Fist from the arhat figurines Guo Xiang gave him, leaving Jueyuan with no choice but to carry him and Guo Xiang away on a shoulder pole as they fled for their lives?
This Shaolin head monk was just like the abbot in The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber.
I believe geniuses exist, but I don't believe someone that gifted would appear before me, much less a mere menial disciple.
It was just like that line: he ought to be called Pockmarked Zhang, and his face ought to have pockmarks.
Apply for cultural heritage status, apply for cultural heritage status...
Thinking further, had Shaolin Temple ever treated such a genius well?
Yes!
The Sweeping Monk in Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils had actually been in the same circumstances as Jueyuan and Zhang Junbao.
They had all grown up doing menial work at Shaolin Temple, starting as lay disciples before becoming young monks. Despite their extraordinary gifts, they hadn't stood out.
Every day, they merely carried water, chopped wood, cooked, and swept...
The difference between him and Zhang Junbao was that he had never shown what he could do.
Only as he grew older, when the abbots worried that he could no longer keep up physically, was he assigned to the Scripture Repository to organize scriptures, clean, and perform other duties.
Taciturn as he was, he gradually began leafing through the martial arts manuals and internal cultivation methods in the Scripture Repository, reaching an extremely profound realm.
Yet he still revealed nothing and made no fuss.
Only when disaster struck Shaolin Temple did the old monk, now a withered tree nearing its end, make his entrance carrying a sound system and loudly declare that everyone present was a little brother.
Without that calamity, the old monk might never have left the Scripture Repository to venture into the martial world, even to his dying day.
Zhang Junbao and the Sweeping Monk were the same sort of person, only with different fates.
Or perhaps the Sweeping Monk had been even more taciturn than Zhang Junbao in his youth and would never have chosen to become a martial monk or practice martial arts.
Early the next morning, after they got up, Zhang Junbao led him through stance training to strengthen his body.
The foundation of all martial arts required not only internal power but a healthy physique. Otherwise, even if he reached Wuyazi's level, he would still be a cripple.
"As I see it, so-called fist techniques and kicking techniques are nothing more than ways to knock an opponent down faster and more simply. Shaolin has plenty of fist techniques for strengthening the body. When I was little, before Master taught me Arhat Fist, I kept wondering: if one punch could knock an enemy down, why add useless movements?
"Was it just to look good?
"Later, I studied moves from several of Shaolin's health-preserving fist techniques and worked out a set of moves that I thought would be the most useful in a fight.
"I used that same fist technique to defeat those young monks.
"Watch carefully, Brother Yuan. If there's anything you don't understand, stop me right away."
Zhang Junbao was instructing Zhang Qingyuan in martial arts while Zhang Qingyuan held a horse stance.
"Mm." He nodded, still holding the stance.
"The first move..."
Zhang Junbao lunged forward, feinting with his left hand as the knuckle of his right index finger thrust forward at an extremely tricky angle.
To Zhang Qingyuan, it was as though an opponent stood before Zhang Junbao. That opponent's attention was drawn by the feint of his left hand while his right index-finger knuckle drove straight toward the opponent's throat.
Seeing Zhang Qingyuan staring blankly, Zhang Junbao continued his demonstration.
"The second move..."
"This is the third move, for defending against an opponent's punches. The fourth move is an attack. The fifth counters grappling..."
None of these moves had names, probably because he hadn't gotten around to naming them yet.
Yet every move was exquisite, like a profound fist technique distilled by an elderly grandmaster who had weathered a lifetime of storms and encountered countless experts.
And the person who had created this fist technique was only a seventeen-year-old boy.
What was talent? This was talent!
Just like Huang Chang, who had known no martial arts yet created the Nine Yin Manual solely from the imperial scriptures-they were all geniuses!
He felt his legs gradually grow sore, tremble, and slowly turn numb...
Finally, he plopped onto the ground, and Zhang Junbao's explanation ended right on time.
Looking at Zhang Qingyuan's sweat-covered head, Zhang Junbao asked, "Well, Brother Yuan? Did you remember everything?"
Zhang Qingyuan nodded, panting heavily as sweat fell from his forehead like rain.
"Cough, cough... I remembered it all."
"Good. As long as you remember. Martial arts training is about progressing step by step. We'll stop here for today and practice the fist technique together tonight."
"All right."
Zhang Qingyuan swallowed. His throat felt as dry as if he had swallowed a whole pack of Liqun cigarettes.
What made him feel worse was that his legs no longer felt like his own.
At breakfast, he ate four large steamed buns and two bowls of congee.
No wonder they said the poor studied letters while the rich practiced martial arts. Never mind medicinal herbs and supplements-just how much grain would he have to eat?
Zhang Junbao told him that once his body caught up, he wouldn't need to eat so much.
After breakfast, Zhang Qingyuan headed into town to set up his stall and earn money, while Zhang Junbao stayed home to read scriptures and study martial arts.
When he reached the crossroads near Sanhe Town's docks, the laborers were already in place, standing on the docks and waiting for the bosses to call them.
Shops crowded the surroundings, selling everything imaginable: firewood, rice, oil, salt, grain, and cloth, along with taverns, restaurants, teahouses, tea stalls, shoe repairers, and sock menders. The place bustled with life.
Choosing a spot with the sun behind him, he set up a table, put out his fortune sticks and sign, and sat on a stool to look for his first unlucky customer.
Plenty of pedestrians passed, and quite a few looked at him, but nobody approached him for a fortune.
Zhang Qingyuan understood. They simply thought he was too young to be reliable.
But a reputation had to be made through one's own efforts. He needed to take the initiative.
Several nearby stallholders were studying him curiously, and Zhang Qingyuan occasionally nodded in greeting.
To his left was an older woman selling vegetables.
"Auntie, those cabbages look good. Did you grow them yourself?"
"Hehe, I've got a few mu of land. I used to grow millet, but my son did me proud. He learned his skills in the Cangshan Sword Sect, then came back and became an escort captain at the Hua'an Escort Agency. He's earned quite a bit, so I planted less grain and put two mu under cabbage."
"Oh my, this humble Daoist could tell at a glance you grew them yourself. Only an auntie as prosperous-looking as you, with a lucky star shining overhead, could grow cabbages this fresh and crisp," Zhang Qingyuan flattered her.
The woman lapped it up. "Hehe, you little Daoist priest certainly have a way with words."
I worked in sales in my last life. This mouth was how I made my living! Zhang Qingyuan grinned. "Just words from the heart, every one sincere. One look tells me you'll live to a hundred. And I also know your family's welcomed a new addition, hasn't it?"
"How did you know? Goodness, that's uncanny!" the woman exclaimed.
I heard you mention it while talking to the stallholder next door when I arrived this morning... Zhang Qingyuan counted on his fingers. "Don't let this humble Daoist's age fool you. I've studied under my master since childhood. My abilities are modest, and I wouldn't dare claim to know five hundred years into the past or eight hundred into the future, but I can divine a little of what's right before us."
"Oh! Then tell my fortune. When will my son come home?" The woman stood and walked over to Zhang Qingyuan's stall.
"Well, that..."
"I understand."
Seeing his hesitation, the woman took a dozen or so copper coins from her person and put them on the divination table. Zhang Qingyuan quietly pocketed them, then asked, "What's your son's surname?"
"My husband's family name is Zhao. My son's called Zhao Pengju."
"A fine name. Just looking at it tells me your son has a very tough destiny."
"Right? He was called Zhao Shitou as a child. His master gave him that name after he became a disciple. To tell you the truth, when my son first came back years ago, he fought the leader of our local Heavenly Dragon Gang. One man with one sword, and he cut his way through half the gang."
Old people were just that straightforward. Once she got carried away talking, all sorts of information spilled out without him even asking.
Never mind old ladies in this era-even in the twenty-first century, weren't there still plenty of people who believed pyramid schemes, health supplement sellers, and even online scammers without a shred of doubt?
Although Zhang Qingyuan hadn't reached that level, his gift of gab, over three months of practice, and basic knowledge of the Book of Changes were more than enough to fool these silly old ladies.
As though making casual conversation, Zhang Qingyuan said, "Wow, with a son that capable, why are you still farming? You could buy a few serving women to wait on you at home. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Hehe, my son is filial, and he earns money too. He's bought property and household goods. But we've still got a few mu of land, and I can't sit idle. What can I do?"
The woman's expression said her son was the most accomplished of all.
"True. How far along is your daughter-in-law? Looking after her yourself can't be easy."
"More than nine months. She's about to give birth. And I'm not looking after her alone. Her mother's come too. Her own family had to come over, didn't they?"
"You're quite right."
Throughout their chat, Zhang Qingyuan kept making divination gestures with his left hand.
He then asked about the escort agency's size, where her son had gone, and how long he had been away escorting goods.
Finally, he lowered his hand and said, "Congratulations, Auntie. This is the hundred and thirty-ninth year of the Qian dynasty, the fourth year of Jiaxing, and today is the twelfth day of the eighth month. Don't worry. He'll definitely be back within three days!"
"Oh my!"
The woman was delighted, and several nearby stallholders, along with a few passersby, turned their eyes toward Zhang Qingyuan.
Among them, the middle-aged man selling secondhand clothes to Zhang Qingyuan's right asked skeptically, "Three days? He'll definitely be back?"
"Definitely."
Seeing how certain he was, the woman pursed her lips and said, "All right, young Daoist. If my son comes back within three days, I'll give you another ten cabbages."
"Hehe, then it would be rude of this humble Daoist to refuse." Zhang Qingyuan rubbed his hands together.
Those dozen or so copper coins were all he earned that morning.
But Zhang Qingyuan had successfully learned the backgrounds of several nearby stallholders. He also learned about the various powers at the docks, the wealthy merchants in town, how many children they had, and so on...
The street aunties' intelligence network was terrifying indeed!
On his way back that evening, Zhang Qingyuan bought two jin of flour and asked Auntie Li for a few cabbage leaves.
Back in the courtyard, he felt deeply gratified to see Zhang Junbao studying Daoist scriptures.
He cooked two bowls of noodles with shredded cabbage. After they ate, Zhang Junbao wanted to spar with him to check the moves he had learned that morning.
Zhang Qingyuan had committed every move Zhang Junbao taught him to memory and reproduced them perfectly.
Not only was Zhang Junbao amazed by his memory, but Zhang Qingyuan himself was astonished by his own martial arts talent.
Am I really this talented?
It was as though, when he demonstrated this morning, I could see an opponent facing him in my mind.
Every move he made, and every reaction from his opponent, was reproduced in my head.
Could this be my golden finger?
Ha!
He smiled.