"An extraordinary force after all... Could this 'Disha stance' be a stance-training method? Seventy-two postures—so it really does correspond to the seventy-two Disha transformations."
Lian Youming knitted his brows and examined it closely. For some reason, after a brief surge of joy, the restlessness he had just suppressed threatened to rekindle within him like dying embers bursting back to life.
Only now did Lian Youming snap to his senses. Everything depicted in the illustrations was mere surface, meant solely to stir a person's obsessions. If one's mind was unsteady, they would only fixate on the monkey, forever believing they could puzzle out the underlying secrets. The higher their pride and the less willing they were to yield, the harder it became to discern substance from illusion, truth from falsehood, until they sank deeper and deeper into the trap.
"I just don't know whether Li Da found this too, or if what he saw was completely different from what I see."
He had only looked at the illustrations. The written text in the book seemed to conceal oddities as well. Should he take another look?
Suddenly—
The moment that thought arose, a layer of cold sweat inexplicably broke out across Lian Youming's back.
No. That was not right.
He seemed to realize something. His pupils constricted sharply, as if staring into sheer terror.
The true mystery in this book was perhaps not the various extraordinary forces or martial arts techniques hidden within, but rather a test of mental state and comprehension.
Sitting by the edge of the bed, Lian Youming's eyes shifted restlessly, clouding with conflicting emotions.
All this time, in his obsession to decipher the book's secrets, he had not only poured his energy into it day and night, but also worn down his spirit, squandering precious time for nothing. He had truly done a disservice to himself, failing his own heart.
Moreover, Lian Youming knew full well that uncovering this single clue had not been due to his own insight, but rather a sheer stroke of luck, an accidental stumble upon the truth.
Yet the book held far more than just one secret—and that was what proved most fatal.
Before, a single leaf had blocked his view of Mount Tai, leaving him guessing and doubting. But now he knew beyond doubt that there was real substance inside, exceptional treasures, and more than one.
"More than one... The monkey of the mind, the horse of the will..."
Lian Youming's expression turned intensely grave.
Disaster. The thief in his heart had grown bold.
Once there was a first, there would inevitably be a second. Having seen the first method, he would only crave uncovering the second, then searching out a third, and hunting for a fourth...
With one's mind gone astray, what was the point of practicing martial arts?
"So what if it's the seventy-two Disha transformations?"
Taking a deep breath, with an extraordinary force right before his eyes, Lian Youming wore a conflicted expression as he slowly closed the book, suppressing the urge to keep looking.
This thing could not be read, should not be read. True or false, profound or not, at least not now.
Otherwise, once the mind-monkey broke loose and the will-horse ran wild, his entire focus would become tethered to this book, and by then, regret would come too late.
"Whew!"
Lian Youming exhaled a long breath and pressed the book firmly beneath the mattress.
He had still underestimated Li Da.
For Li Da to give him this book meant one of two things: either Li Da had already subdued the mind-monkey, reined in the will-horse, and seen through every secret within—or he had never even opened the pages.
If you never look, you never crave.
Pride makes a man refuse to admit defeat, but if pride reaches the heavens, might one simply disdain borrowing another's path, seeing such an act as nothing short of self-denial?
If one truly harbored the absolute conviction of being invincible, why pin hope on a single book?
When Li Da said that if he could see through the book's secrets, he would be able to fight Xue Hen within three to five years, those words had been guidance, a warning, and at the same time, a pluck at the strings of his restless mind.
"Screw your uncle," Lian Youming muttered.
He touched his forehead; it was slick with cold sweat.
Yet this was both a perilous tribulation and an immense opportunity.
In terms of offense and defense, he lacked no methods right now. He could not afford to chase trifles while neglecting essentials, coveting other schools' training methods and forsaking what he had already learned. Discarding one thing to pick up another, discarding and picking up again—in the end, he would be left with empty hands, his fighting spirit worn away, doomed never to achieve true greatness.
Though he had put it down, those seventy-two small illustrations kept revolving in Lian Youming's mind, insidiously tugging at his thoughts, urging him to take just one more peek and crack their mysteries.
Especially after discovering that "Tiangang Jin" and "Disha stance," the desire seemed to swell endlessly like an inner demon.
Lian Youming's pupils trembled. Turning off the light without a second thought, he walked straight out of the courtyard, called out a couple of reminders to his younger brother and sister, and then broke into a dead run into the dusk.
He wanted to put distance between himself and that book.
Twilight fell, accompanied by the clear ringing of bicycle bells along the street. Workers coming off shift resembled schools of fish in the dark, converging briefly before scattering into various lanes and alleys.
Lian Youming walked along the curb, having no idea how far he had gone in one breath, until a wide river came into view. Halting his steps, he moved to a deserted corner and jumped down from the riverbank.
Only when immersed in the bone-chilling river water did Lian Youming finally manage to suppress the chaotic tangle of thoughts.
This was the Ba River.
Taking a deep breath, Lian Youming stroked with hands and feet, moving away from the bustling city and swimming directly toward a more secluded stretch.
"If the mind-monkey can't be reined in and the will-horse won't be tamed, then I'll fight them down!"
The water was not deep, reaching only his chest. Lian Youming's eyes turned fierce and dark, and in an instant, fists rose and fell within inches of his body.
Yet his burly frame felt mired in a bog. The punches and kicks that should have been domineering and ferocious seemed sapped of strength, trapped in a cage just like the thoughts in his head.
After venting his fury, Lian Youming felt no relief at all. Instead, his breath grew stagnant, his face paled, and his energy deflated. He simply spread-eagled across the water's surface, muttering under his breath, "Li Da, what did you do?"
As he drifted with the current, a sudden, bizarre quacking croaked by his ear, catching him off guard.
Lian Youming gave a start and instinctively swiped a hand out, only to see it was a wild duck.
He missed.
Flapping its wings, the wild duck clutched a small fish in its bill, spraying water everywhere before flying off into the distance.
Standing in the water, Lian Youming followed the duck's flight with his gaze. The setting sun was nearly gone, but a lingering ray of twilight met his eyes, dyeing the horizon crimson and staining the river red.
The sunset clouds fly with the lone duck; the autumn water merges into one vast color with the sky.
Beholding this magnificent scene, Lian Youming stood dazed for a long while. His gaze flickered, shifting from afar back to the near, returning from the distant horizon to the surface right before him, looking upon his own reflection in the water.
Without a word, without a thought, he gently raised both hands. Contemplation in his eyes, he slowly lowered them into the water, just as the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain had once used the water in the vat to teach the silk-reeling force, stirring the river before him.
Ripples spread out in layers, stirring the red glow of twilight.
Regarding the words "kung fu," he had long since developed his own understanding.
Martial arts differed from firearms, which could kill enemies hundreds or thousands of meters away. A martial artist contended for the square inch of ground beneath his feet. And wherever his hands and feet could reach, wherever his strikes could land, was the domain a warrior carved out for himself.
This domain might seem only an arm's reach across—fists flying, kicks landing, moves rising and falling, deciding life, death, victory, and defeat—yet at its core, it was governed by the human heart and mind.
Every life-and-death clash was a contest for that patch of ground within a square inch. It seemed a clash of fists and feet, yet myriad transformations all moved according to the mind. Techniques were dead, but the human heart was alive.
Looking at his reflection in the water, Lian Youming murmured softly, "Widen the horizon, unbind the mind, and never cling rigidly to form."
Transforming the finite into the infinite, unleashing endless methods within a limited distance—what was contested was punches and kicks, but what was truly tested was the mind within. That was each person's Dao.
He suddenly pursed his lips and drew a breath. His thick, taut arms softened inch by inch at this moment, turning and diverting, sealing and parrying. His fierce, domineering fist techniques slowed in cadence, softened by the stretch of autumn water before him.
In an instant, an undercurrent began to swirl in the water, eddying in rapid circles.
Lian Youming's eyes grew brighter and brighter. Following the swirling water, his hands scooped around, trapping a swimming fish.
Though still submerged in the river, the fish kept spinning in circles, as if surrounded by invisible barriers on all sides, unable to break free.
No, it darted out.
Lian Youming's hands remained submerged, rolling and shifting like a sphere, but his force was not yet completely seamless and unimpeded; a seam had opened, allowing the fish to escape.
Yet even as the fish fled, he smiled.
"When the mind is unbound, the world widens."
At that moment, Lian Youming's thoughts cleared completely. His stagnant breath felt as vast as the endless river before him, and he could not help but let out a thunderous roar: "Ah—!"
Even his Golden Bell Shield reached a breakthrough at this very moment.
When the mind runs smooth, the qi flows smooth.
The heart meridian was clear and unobstructed.
"Who's that, howling like a bloody ghost?"
Up on the riverbank, someone shivered in fright at the roar, but when they looked toward the sound, there were only rippling waves on the water—not a soul in sight.
...
Back home.
Lian Youming found his parents were already home.
Zhao Lanxiang seemed cheerful that her son was home, humming a tune, but the moment she saw Lian Youming drenched from head to toe, her face changed and she asked hurriedly, "You didn't go get into another fight, did you?"
Lian Youming wiped his face. "How could I? Just went for a swim in the Ba River to get some exercise. Wonderfully refreshing."
As he spoke, he fished two crucian carp from his pocket. "Just right to make some soup for the two kids."
Zhao Lanxiang scolded exasperatedly, "It's almost snowing, what kind of swimming is that? What if you catch your death of cold?"
Lian Youming chuckled without replying and went back to his room to change clothes, not sparing a single glance toward the spot under the mattress where Journey to the West lay hidden.
With the breakthrough in Golden Bell Shield, he felt as though his physique had drawn slightly inward—not shrinking in height, but rather his muscles growing denser and more compact, making him appear even taller and more upright.
Zhao Lanxiang brought over a towel and took out the reheated boxed meals. While Lian Youming was drying his hair, she said, "Your dad and I have something to discuss with you later."
Curious, Lian Youming asked, "Discuss what?"
"What else could it be? You're not getting any younger. We want to ask you whether you want to keep studying or take up a job." As she spoke, his father walked in from the courtyard carrying a bottle of liquor and several meal boxes, sitting down at the dining table. "I have an old acquaintance at the steel mill. He got hurt a while back and is preparing to retire. I had a drink with him earlier to discuss it, and he can let you replace him. We just have to spend a little money."
Lian Youming asked, "The steel mill? How much?"
Father Lian fell silent for a moment before saying, "Twelve hundred yuan."
Lian Youming raised an eyebrow and cried in disbelief, "Holy crap, Dad, and he calls himself an acquaintance? Are we trying to bankrupt the family?"
Zhao Lanxiang chided, "What do you know, child? Urban jobs are as rare as hen's teeth right now. Countless people beg high and low without finding a way in. Besides, that's a steel mill—normally, you couldn't squeeze in even if you greased palms."
Lian Youming sighed. "Didn't you say you wanted to discuss it with me? Why are you only talking about the steel mill? I want to study."
Father Lian lit a cigarette and said calmly, "Studying is a good thing, but look at the Chen family's girl. She finished university and still works at a state-run restaurant, making less in a month than your mother."
Lian Youming had no intention of taking a factory job right now. Putting on a mournful sigh, he said, "Fine. Tomorrow I'll go to the post and telecommunications office and call Aunt Shen and Uncle Qin, telling them you two won't let me study."
"Hey, you little brat, you dare threaten me?" Father Lian fell silent for a few seconds, let out a sigh, and then chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette. "Come on, let's head outside and spar. If you can beat your old man, you can call your own shots from now on."
Lian Youming had waited for this day for a long time. Grinning cheerfully, he said, "Dad, you're the one who said fists and feet recognize no father and son. If I knock you flat today, don't you dare renege and blame the cold weather or slippery ground."
Father Lian glared. "Little bastard, I'll give you a one-hand handicap."
Lian Youming glared right back. "I'll give you a two-hand handicap!"
"Well, damned if you won't. Let's go!"
"Let's go then!"
Watching father and son lift the curtain and head outside, Zhao Lanxiang stomped her foot in exasperation.
"He just put on clean clothes!"
Chapter 64