5: Chapter 5: Effort is not as good as lying down

Ming Feng's face was as white as a sheet of paper.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't spit out a single word.

All of them?

The martial arts classics of the Qingyang Taoist Temple, while not necessarily peerless Secret Manuals, were still the accumulation of the temple's century-long history.

The Scripture Pavilion was not a vegetable market; was it a place that an Outer Sect Disciple like him could enter and exit at will?

Let alone moving all the books out!

"What?" Chen Fan set down his teacup, the bottom of the cup clinking against the stone table with a soft sound. "Is there a problem?"

This soft sound made Ming Feng shudder all over.

He suddenly remembered those words at the mountain gate.

Three thousand taels of incense money.

This master was not joking.

He really dared to go back and file a complaint, and he really could cut off the temple's financial path!

"No... no problem!" Ming Feng shouted almost at the top of his lungs, the veins on his neck bulging. "This lowly one... this lowly one will go do it right away!"

The short Taoist priest beside him, whose Daoist name was Mingzheng, was also badly frightened; he tugged on Ming Feng's sleeve, filled with panic.

"Senior Brother, the Scripture Pavilion is guarded by Junior Martial Uncle Zhou, and his temper..."

"We can't worry about that much!" Ming Feng gritted his teeth and lowered his voice. "If we offend Junior Martial Uncle Zhou, at most we'll get a beating! If we offend this master, both of us will be skinned and rolled down the mountain!"

After saying this, he dared not delay any longer, gave Chen Fan a heavy bow, and then dragged Mingzheng away, scrambling out of Tingzhu Pavilion.

Chen Fan watched their panicked retreating figures, his face devoid of ripples.

This was the effect he wanted.

To establish authority, one must do it once and for all, right into their bones.

He leaned back against the chair, closed his eyes, and waited quietly.

An hour later.

Ming Feng and Mingzheng returned.

Both of them looked exhausted, their faces pale, their Taoist robes covered in dust.

Behind them followed seven or eight other Outer Sect Disciples, also wearing grey Taoist robes, each carrying a thick stack of books.

"Thump!" "Thump!" "Thump!"

One by one, the yellowed, old, and even moldy-smelling books were piled up beside the stone table in the courtyard, quickly accumulating into a small mountain.

Daoist Xuanli also rushed over upon hearing the news, and seeing this scene, his fat face was covered in sweat.

"Nephew, what is this..."

Chen Fan stood up, ignored him, walked straight to the pile of books, and picked one up at random.

The book was titled "Qingyang Mind-Cultivation Technique".

Opening it, he saw dense annotations and some simple diagrams of human Meridians.

This was the one.

Internal Skill Mind-Cultivation Technique.

The first step into the martial path.

"All of you, get out." Chen Fan said while holding the book, not even turning his head.

"Nephew, these classics are our sect's..." Xuanli still wanted to persuade him.

Chen Fan turned his head and glanced at him.

That glance was very calm, yet it made Xuanli swallow the rest of his words.

He suddenly felt that he had never understood this Young Master Zhao at all.

"Yes, yes, Nephew, take your time reading; if you need anything, just give the order." Xuanli nodded and bowed repeatedly, then led the group of Disciples out of the courtyard.

The courtyard gate was closed.

The world was finally quiet.

Chen Fan sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, spreading the "Qingyang Mind-Cultivation Technique" out in front of him.

His heart began to beat faster.

It was not the reaction of Zhao Long's body, but the excitement from the depths of Chen Fan's Soul.

Martial arts!

This was a dream that every Chinese man had once had.

To leap over roofs and vault over walls, to split monuments and crack stones.

Now, the entrance to this dream was right before his eyes.

Following the instructions in the book, he sat with his five centers facing the sky, pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, cleared his mind of distractions, and began to sense his Dantian and Qi Sea.

The book said that beginners would feel a faint warm current in their lower abdomen.

This was "Qi-sensation".

It was the beginning of all techniques.

Chen Fan closed his eyes and sensed carefully.

An incense stick of time passed.

No warm current.

Only legs that were numb from sitting cross-legged for too long.

An hour passed.

Still no warm current.

His lower abdomen was icy cold, and even aching slightly due to the chill of the mountain night.

Chen Fan opened his eyes.

He refused to accept it.

Perhaps this body was too weak and needed more time.

He continued to try.

From dusk until late at night.

Like this for three consecutive days, until the morning of the fourth day.

When the first ray of sunlight shone into the courtyard, Chen Fan finally gave up.

On his face, there was no frustration, only a dead, silent calm.

He had felt it.

Not a warm current.

But a... blockage.

The Meridians of this body were like riverbeds blocked by silt, dried up, stiff, and without a trace of Life Qi.

Zhao Long's twenty years of debauchery had long since completely hollowed out the Foundation of this skin-bag.

Let alone generating Qi-sensation.

Even if a peerless expert were to transmit their power to him now, that True Qi would have no path to follow and would burst him apart alive.

Trash.

A thorough martial arts good-for-nothing.

The so-called Peak of the martial path had nothing to do with him from the very beginning.

Chen Fan sat in place, silent for a long time.

Substitution Rebirth, Possession of the number one playboy of Qinghe County.

The result was a trash body that couldn't even touch the door of the martial path.

What was this?

He stood up and stretched his stiff limbs.

Having not slept all night, this body was exhausted to the extreme, with soreness seeping through his very bones.

He walked to the mountain of books.

The "Qingyang Mind-Cultivation Technique" was casually tossed aside by him.

Since Internal Skill wouldn't work.

Then he would go for external martial arts.

Since he couldn't become an internal martial arts expert.

Then he would just practice some Moves; he couldn't have come here for nothing.

He began to rummage through the pile of books.

"Qingyang Sword Technique", "Flowing Cloud Steps", "Stone-Crushing Fist"...

One by one, classics focusing on Moves, footwork, and force-generating techniques were pulled out by him.

These things did not require Qi-sensation or Meridians.

They only required sinew and bone, muscle, and sweat!

He picked up the "Stone-Crushing Fist".

Opening the first page, there was a diagram of a horse stance.

This was the Foundation of all external martial arts.

Chen Fan took a deep breath and walked to the center of the courtyard.

He spread his legs, bent his knees and sank down, and held his hands in a circle in front of him.

A most standard, and also most simple, horse stance.

However, after only three breaths.

His legs began to tremble violently and uncontrollably.

A stinging pain like needle pricks came from his knees.

Sweat instantly seeped from his forehead and slid down his cheeks.

The weakness of this body was far beyond his imagination.

But he did not give up.

Gritting his teeth, he held on tenaciously.

He was no longer that Transmigration traveler who longed to reach the sky in a single step.

He was a Soul who had died once and crawled out of the gutter.

He wanted to try and see just how difficult the martial arts of this world were to practice.

Five breaths.

Ten breaths.

Fifteen breaths.

"Bang!"

He finally couldn't hold on, fell onto his butt, and panted heavily.

From head to toe, there wasn't a place that wasn't screaming with soreness.

But he didn't care.

He just stared at his hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

Chen Fan grinned and laughed.

He was truly weak...

Supporting himself on the ground, he wobbled back up and once again set into the horse stance.

Just then, the courtyard gate was gently pushed open.

Daoist Xuanli walked in carrying a food box, his face full of smiles.

"Nephew, you must take care of your body while working hard; your teacher has brought you some..."

His words trailed off when he saw the plump Young Master Zhao practicing hard external martial arts.

His face was full of question marks?

Chen Fan ignored his surprise, picked up a towel to wipe his sweat, and walked straight to the stone table to sit down.

"Something up?"

Xuanli came back to his senses, hurriedly set down the food box, and took out several plates of delicate snacks.

"Nothing, nothing, just came to see you, Nephew."

He rubbed his hands, looking like he had something to say but hesitated.

"Speak." Chen Fan picked up a piece of osmanthus cake and shoved it into his mouth.

Xuanli gave two dry laughs and finally couldn't help but speak.

"Nephew, what you are practicing... is all just shallow external martial arts."

"It hurts the body and isn't of much use."

"Why don't I, your teacher, teach you our sect's Mind-Cultivation Technique? That is the Righteous Path..."

Chen Fan shook his head: "No need, I know what my own aptitude is; practicing it won't have any effect."

After three days of Cultivation, he had already given up on this body.

Furthermore, he was thinking, with 'Substitution Rebirth', why should he bitterly Cultivate the martial path?

Better to lie flat and enjoy life.

He had completely figured it out and accepted the fact that he was currently a piece of trash.

With the System to back him up, why bother trying hard?