20demayo Chapter 16 People in this world are essentially no different.
Chapter 16 People in this world are essentially no different.
"This is the root of Qi, the source of strength. True Qi does not arise from nothing; it requires intention as a guide, and blood and Qi as fuel, to be repeatedly tempered, condensed, and circulated!"
"Practice a thousand times a day, and the foundation will be laid!"
Zheng Chaoyang's voice was like a resounding bell, each word imprinted on Zhang Yuan's heart.
After guiding Zhang Yuan several times, until Zhang Yuan could vaguely sense it and try to follow the path of the energy, Zheng Chaoyang withdrew his palm.
"Inducing Qi is not something that can be achieved in a day; it requires perseverance, like water dripping on a stone."
"Next, I will teach you the first three foundational forms of the 'Mountain-Splitting Blade Technique'—'Mountain-Opening Stance,' 'Flow-Severing Slash,' and 'Rock-Suppressing Stance'!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Zheng Chaoyang moved and was already beside the weapon rack, where he once again took the Xuanlin Heavy Blade.
He did not infuse any internal energy; he practiced solely with physical strength and the true essence of swordsmanship.
The momentum of opening up the mountain.
Holding the knife in both hands, raising it high above the head, stepping forward steadily, the power of the waist and hips flowing smoothly, the spine taut like a great dragon.
An overbearing will that seemed to want to split the heavens and earth coalesced on the blade, and then crashed down!
The wind howled, and the air was compressed, producing a popping sound.
This technique is primarily offensive, concentrating all the body's strength into a single strike, resulting in a powerful and heavy attack with the force to split mountains and shatter rocks.
Flow-Severing Slash.
Before the downward slash was finished, the wrist suddenly flipped, and the blade changed from a vertical slash to a diagonal slash, drawing a sharp, cold light from bottom to top!
The movements were swift as lightning, seamlessly connected, and carried a decisive and sharp edge, like cutting through a river.
This technique involves a shift in strategy, alternating between offense and defense, and breaking through the enemy's central defense.
Panshi Town.
He swung his sword, holding it horizontally in front of his chest. His feet were firmly planted, his waist and stance became one, and his center of gravity lowered, suddenly exuding an immovable and steady aura.
Though the blade remained still, it seemed to seal off all the space in front of me, and I stood firm against the wind and waves.
This strategy emphasizes defense, using stillness to control movement, and firmly guarding the gate.
After practicing the three moves, Zheng Chaoyang sheathed his sword and stood still, his breathing as steady as ever.
"These three forms form the backbone of the 'Mountain-Splitting Saber Technique.' They appear simple, yet they contain the essence of saber techniques: 'power, speed, and stability.' Practice them daily along with Qi cultivation, tens of thousands of times without ceasing, until they become ingrained in your bones and blood, and can be executed effortlessly!"
Zhang Yuan's eyes were fixed intently as he deeply imprinted the movements, key points of force exertion, and artistic conception of the three styles into his mind.
He took the fine iron longsword handed to him by Zheng Chaoyang and began to imitate and practice it with utmost seriousness in the open space behind the hall, move by move.
Sweat quickly soaked through his coarse cloth clothes. Every swing of his knife and every lowering of his waist was accompanied by the low groaning of his muscles and heavy breathing.
Zheng Chaoyang stood to one side with his hands behind his back, his eyes sharp, occasionally pointing out minor errors with strict and precise criticism.
As the sun began to set, Zhang Yuancai, dragging his weary yet unusually fulfilled body, bid farewell to Zheng Chaoyang and was picked up by Zhang Gu in an oxcart.
The wheels rolled over the bluestone road, making a regular creaking sound.
As dusk settles and the city lights begin to twinkle.
Zhang Gu's face beamed with barely suppressed joy, his wrinkles smoothed out, and he began to talk non-stop.
"Young Master, you are truly fortunate to receive Master Zheng's personal instruction today! This old servant is sweeter than if he had drunk honey!"
Zhang Gu's voice was filled with excitement.
"Back in the day, when the master was alive, he showed extraordinary talent at this age. He practiced his Wild Bull Fist, training hard in the coldest winter and hottest summer, punching that old plum tree, his sweat soaking through the bluestone slabs!"
"Later, after joining the army, he became the bravest in the entire force. His black iron armor was stained with the blood of countless Northern Qi barbarians! The reputation of 'Commander of the Vanguard' was earned through real battles!"
He talked on and on, recounting Zhang Zhenshan's past bravery and achievements, his eyes filled with reminiscence and pride.
"Now that you're back, young master, your talent and comprehension surpass even those of the master in his prime!"
"With renowned teachers like Master Zheng and literary advisors like Counselor Chen, it's only a matter of time before they inherit Master's legacy, regain control of the Zhenwu Guard's Tiger Tally, and bring glory to the Zhang family! Even if I close my eyes now, I can smile as I go to see Master!"
Zhang Yuan listened quietly, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets outside the car window as they gradually dispersed.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.
Under the dim eaves at the street corner, several ragged, emaciated teenage beggars huddled together.
They were about eleven or twelve years old, shivering in the cold autumn wind, staring longingly at passersby with cloudy and numb eyes, a stark contrast to their peers who were sweating profusely at the Rock Martial Arts School.
Zhang Yuan felt as if something had stabbed him in the heart.
"Master Gu," he withdrew his gaze, his voice calm, "do you have any money on you?"
Zhang Gu was taken aback, thinking that Zhang Yuan was hungry from practicing hard, and quickly took out a heavy coarse cloth money bag from his pocket: "I brought it! Is Young Master hungry? There's a shop up ahead, this old servant will go buy some hot food..."
Zhang Yuan shook his head and took the money bag: "No need."
He gestured for Zhang Gu to stop the car.
The oxcart stopped at the street corner.
Zhang Yuan, carrying his money bag, walked straight to a roadside stall selling steamed buns and flatbreads. He emptied most of the copper coins from the bag and bought a large bag full of steaming hot steamed buns and flatbreads, along with some pickled vegetables.
He carried the bag of food and walked up to the group of beggar boys who looked on in surprise and fear. He silently placed the food on the clean ground in front of them.
The boys froze, their eyes fixed on the pile of food, their throats bobbing, but none of them dared to move.
They looked at Zhang Yuan's simple yet neat clothes, and then at the oxcart parked beside him. Their eyes held longing, wariness, and above all, humility.
Finally, a slightly bolder boy trembled as he reached out, grabbed a steamed bun, and quickly withdrew his hand.
He bowed his head, his voice barely audible, tinged with a heavy local accent: "Thank...thank you, young master...may you be blessed..."
The others also realized what was happening and followed suit, their voices a jumble of humble thanks: "Thank you, young master!" "May you live a long and healthy life, young master!" "Young master is a good person..."
Looking at their sallow faces and fearful eyes, Zhang Yuan felt little joy at being thanked; instead, he felt even more burdened.
He waved his hand, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of the boys: "No need to call me young master. We're about the same age."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over them, and over the dimly lit streets that couldn't hide the poverty, his voice carrying a calmness and clarity beyond his years: "People in this world are no different."
After saying that, he didn't linger. He turned and walked towards the oxcart, leaving behind several boys holding warm food, staring blankly at his back.
The numbness in their eyes seemed to be pried open by these words, revealing a sense of bewilderment and shock, and then, a faint but real glimmer appeared.
That was the most primal touch of the word "different," an instinctive response to the impact of those words of equality.
Zhang Gu saw everything, his face first showing astonishment, then revealing a genuine smile, a smile filled with relief and even more so with pride in his young master's pure and kind nature.
He quickly lifted the carriage curtain, and after Zhang Yuan was seated, he gently cracked the whip, and the old ox started moving again.
Upon returning to the front of the Zhang family's old residence, they found a yamen runner dressed in black already waiting for them.
Seeing the oxcart stop, the yamen runner stepped forward and respectfully cupped his hands: "Are you young master Zhang Qingyang? I have been ordered by the county magistrate, Lord Wang, to deliver this item."
As he spoke, he presented a heavy blue cloth bag with both hands.
Zhang Gu hurriedly stepped forward to take it, and found it heavy in his hand. He untied a corner of the cloth bag, and inside were two ingots of ten-tael official silver that gleamed with silver light, totaling a full twenty taels.
The constable said, "The magistrate said that Commandant Zhang's loyalty and bravery will last forever, and his influence will benefit the whole village. Young Master Qingyang's return home is a blessing for our county. This small amount of silver is a token of our respect, to help the young master settle in and focus on his studies and martial arts. We hope that the young master will live up to the glory of his ancestors and become a talent as soon as possible."
Zhang Yuan nodded slightly in the car, his voice steady: "Thank you for your trouble. Please convey Qingyang's gratitude to the county magistrate for his generous gift."
The yamen runners acknowledged and took their leave.