Evening fell, and the sun sank in the west.
Cuishan Village, within the red sandalwood grove.
Bai Ke sat crouched beneath a tree, a clay bowl placed before her with a roast chicken inside. She took small bites as she watched Gu Zhao practice martial arts ahead.
Xiuniang stood beside her, though her beautiful eyes had never once left Gu Zhao. This was her first time watching him practice martial arts.
Gu Zhao was practicing the White Crane Fist he had learned from his grandfather.
White Crane Fist was one branch of Southern Fist. After more than three hundred years of development, it had evolved into four different forms: Ancestral Crane, Crying Crane, Flying Crane, and Feeding Crane.
However, Gu Zhao was not practicing any of those four forms. It was a style his lineage had developed from orthodox White Crane Fist, one that was not passed down outside their sect. It emphasized not only form and spirit, but also intent and qi.
As Gu Zhao practiced, he imagined himself as an Immortal Crane. His footwork was light and nimble, yet his feet rooted firmly upon landing. His hands fluttered, hooked, and struck, like wings and a beak.
His neck was steady and his shoulders relaxed; his waist drew in and his legs moved, qi sinking into his Dantian. This perfectly matched the White Crane's lightness and speed, its balance of hardness and softness, its inner tension and outer relaxation. It usually appeared unhurried and expansive, but once it moved, it was swift as lightning.
"It's got a bit of Tai Chi to it," Daoist Yansong commented.
Gu Zhao finished his set and drew to a close. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Young Master, have some water!" Xiuniang hurried over and handed him a bowl of purified water that