8: Chapter 8 Initial Exploration of Martial Arts, Initial Success in the Seventh Rank

The wind ruffled the yellowed pages with a rustling sound. Chen Xuan crouched down, his fingers tracing over "Introduction to Breathing Techniques," "Fundamentals of Fist Principles," and "Introduction to Guiding Qi" one by one.

The paper was as brittle as dried leaves, curling at the slightest touch, but his eyes were bright—this stuff was far more useful than a sugar figurine.

"These three, how much?" he asked the stall owner, looking up.

The old man squinted and sized him up: "Fifty copper coins."

"Thirty." Chen Xuan didn't haggle, nor did he leave; he just sat there flipping through the books.

"Forty, that's the lowest." The old man sighed. "Any cheaper and I'll be left drinking the northwest wind."

"Deal." Chen Xuan took out his coin purse, counted out forty coins, and handed them over without missing a single one. He clutched the books to his chest, turned, and walked away, his steps as light as if he had picked up a gold nugget.

Returning to the inn, he went straight into his room and slid the door bolt shut.

Leng Shuang stayed in the left wing, Zhao Hongling in the right wing, and this room in the middle was where he stayed.

The room had a bed, a table, and a chair, with coarse grain and water skins bought last night piled in the corner. He spread the books on the table and opened them one by one.

The first page of "Introduction to Breathing Techniques" read: "Breathing has its methods; focus your intent on the Dantian." Beside it was a drawing of a little person with a bulging belly, with arrows indicating the breath going in and out of the nose.

Chen Xuan grinned: "Isn't this just deep breathing? I thought it would be something profound."

But he didn't dare treat it as a joke. Modern people sat in offices all day; who would understand anything about circulating True Qi?

He sat cross-legged, following the diagram: inhale, hold, then slowly exhale.

After trying three times, his head felt a bit dizzy, but there was no movement in his belly.

"System, are you asleep?" he muttered to himself.

There was no response in his mind, but the next second, the text he had only half-understood suddenly became clear.

For example, the four characters "Qi travels through the Ren Meridian" now read as if someone were reciting them in his ear: "Start from the Huiyin, travel up along the spine, pass the Baihui, and descend to the Renzhong." Even the route seemed to be drawn right before his eyes.

He blinked, thinking: Oh, so that's how you're used.

That night, he began practicing his stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, hands rounded as if embracing a tree.

After just ten minutes, his legs were shaking, and sweat was streaming down his forehead.

He gritted his teeth and held on, silently reciting the mantra the System had automatically parsed while adjusting his breathing rhythm.

The next morning, he did it again. This time he stood for twenty minutes; although he was still tired, his waist and back were much steadier.

At noon, he practiced the guiding techniques, moving his limbs back and forth according to the postures in "Introduction to Guiding Qi," his movements as clumsy as a child just learning to walk.

When Zhao Hongling returned in the evening and saw him twisting and turning in the courtyard, she nearly choked with laughter.

"Are you performing a shaman dance?" She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

"Cultivating." Chen Xuan stopped, wiped the sweat from his brow, and said, "When I become an expert, you'll have to call me brother."

"With you like this? A gust of wind could knock you over without even needing a push." She curled her lip and threw the cloth bundle in her hand onto the table. "Here, I bought you some new clothes. Don't go around looking like a refugee all day; it's embarrassing for both of us."

Chen Xuan opened it to see a grey-blue martial arts tunic. The material wasn't expensive, but the stitching was fine, and the cuffs were embroidered with a cloud pattern. "You really know how to pick them."

"Of course. Could the taste of the eldest Young Miss of the Zhao family be bad?" She huffed and turned away.

At night, he continued to practice. By midnight, the room was so quiet that only the sound of breathing remained.

He sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, following the book's instruction to "warm and nourish the True Qi." In reality, he had no idea what True Qi was, but he just followed along.

Gradually, a trace of warmth emerged deep in his lower abdomen. It wasn't hot, nor was it strong; it felt like the warmth in one's chest when basking in the winter sun.

His heart leaped: It's here!

This sensation lasted for a quarter of an hour before slowly dispersing and creeping up along his waist.

He didn't dare move, fearing he would break this flow. Not until the horizon turned white did he slowly open his eyes and let out a long breath.

"I've found the way," he muttered to himself.

On the third day, he was even more ruthless. In the morning, he stood in his stance for an hour; at noon, he practiced fist techniques; at night, he meditated to guide his Qi.

He ate little and drank plenty of water. He lost a whole circle of weight, but his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

Once, when Leng Shuang passed by his door, she heard the heavy breathing inside. She paused for a moment, but did not knock or speak, simply walking away quietly.

On the fourth night, he got stuck.

The thread of warmth had finally managed to travel up his back, but it suddenly stopped behind his neck, as if it had hit a wall. His meridians ached, beads of sweat the size of beans broke out on his forehead, his fingers went numb, and his legs began to cramp.

"Can't get through... really can't get through?" He gritted his teeth, his whole body trembling.

At this moment, two images flashed through his mind: one was in the forest, where Leng Shuang lay on the ground with a pale blue face, and he helped her up;

The other was at the city gate, where Zhao Hongling was being targeted by a bully, and he stood in front of her. After both times, his cultivation had increased.

Although he didn't know why, he vaguely felt that when he saved them, his body seemed to know how to become stronger on its own.

"Since I can rely on it, then I'll do it one more time." He clenched his teeth and forcibly guided the Qi to rush toward the top of his head.

It was so painful that his vision went black, his ears rang, and his chest felt as if it had been hammered several times.

He didn't let go, nor did he stop; he stubbornly pushed it forward, inch by inch.

Just as he was about to pass out, the Qi surged violently and broke through the barrier!

His entire body felt light, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted. A faint halo appeared on the surface of his skin, the air in the room trembled slightly, and the flame of the oil lamp on the table flickered three times before extinguishing.

Chen Xuan opened his eyes, his first reaction being to clench his fist.

"Hoo!" His palm brought forth a gust of wind, making his sleeves snap loudly.

He stood up and took two steps in the room; his footsteps were as light as walking on cotton.

His five senses had also changed. He could hear Zhao Hongling turning over in the next room clearly; the chirping of insects outside the window seemed amplified tenfold, and he could even count the rhythm of the innkeeper's snoring downstairs.

"Seventh Realm," he said in a low voice. "Not bad, not bad."

He walked to the window and pushed it open. Outside, the sky wasn't fully bright yet, and the street was quiet, with only an early-rising porter carrying a shoulder pole walking across the stone road.

He gazed at the whitening sky in the distance, the corners of his mouth curling up.

"This is just the beginning."

He sat back down cross-legged and began to consolidate his Realm. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat slow, and the warmth within his body could now circulate on its own, round after round, turning smoother and smoother.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a soft sound of footsteps came from outside the door. It was Leng Shuang.

She seemed to stand at the door for a while before turning and leaving, without knocking or speaking.

In the courtyard, Zhao Hongling was kicking a small pebble to relieve her boredom. She looked up at the window of Chen Xuan's room and muttered, "This guy, he's kept his door closed for four days; he hasn't blown himself up doing Alchemy inside, has he?"

Inside the room, Chen Xuan closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.

He knew that everything outside had changed.