"Are you from the Taiji School?"
Only when every trace of commotion had died down did Song Xiehu step out, disbelief written across his face.
Intrigued, Lian Youming countered with a question rather than an answer. "Is there some special significance to that?"
Song Xiehu shook his head, the blood drained from his cheeks, and let out a long sigh. "If you're not, you're in deep trouble. Of all the taboos in martial circles, you went and broke two at once. First, forging a mortal feud with a sect; second, secretly stealing someone else's true transmission and using it to shed blood."
Seeing Lian Youming look thoughtful, Song Xiehu explained further. "Leave the first aside—those people got what they deserved anyway. But as for the second, you've stirred up a martial world vendetta using tai chi. The Taiji School will definitely have to step forward. If your lineage is orthodox, you might be fine, but if you stole it, that's a mortal feud all the same."
Lian Youming raised a thick eyebrow. "Is it really that serious?"
Song Xiehu rolled his eyes and slowed his speech, explaining deliberately, "A leak of the true transmission is no small matter. Do you know what a true transmission is? It's something passed down to only two or three people in a generation. Those few are entirely different from ordinary disciples. In the outside world, they hold up the sect's banner; inside, they exist to outmatch their peers. Besides, if an enemy were to obtain this line of transmission, it would be a catastrophic disaster for the sect—costing a few lives at best, and wiping out the entire lineage at worst, leaving every last one of them dead."
Lian Youming thought it over and realized that made sense. Still, the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain should count as Taiji orthodoxy; he did keep a memorial tablet for Yang Banhou, after all.
Song Xiehu added, "On this outing, besides the Eagle Claw Sect and the Taiji School, you also have to watch out for other people."
"What kind of people?" Lian Youming asked.
Song Xiehu said gravely, "Once word leaks out, someone is bound to covet this true transmission of yours. Though martial circles care about face and observe the rules, there are still those who like underhanded tricks. Don't fall into a trap."
Lian Youming let out a string of cold sneers and said dismissively, "It's better if they don't play by the rules—I can make sure they don't even know how they died. By the way, is the Baji School formidable?"
As he spoke, he drew out a large gold bar.
At the sight of the gold bar, Song Xiehu turned around and brought a wooden box from the room, taking out a small scale. After checking the weight—a little over three hundred and ten grams—he began counting out banknotes while asking, "The Baji School? That's no simple matter. If you want to achieve anything in the three major internal martial arts, which one doesn't take years of immersion and painstaking cultivation? Yet with Baji, you can master the force within a single year. Right now, it's riding the highest wave... Why are you asking?"
Lian Youming pondered for a moment and said quietly, "I killed a guy from Baji on the train too."
"Holy shit!"
Song Xiehu's counting hands froze. He looked up in shock, then resumed counting the money at high speed, rounding it up to an even twelve thousand.
"The extra hundred-odd yuan is for that boar leg of yours... But the people from the Baji School aren't like the Eagle Claw Sect. Most of them loathe evil like a deadly enemy. Once they find out, they might not make things hard for you, and could even give you a hand."
Lian Youming held the thick stack of bills, intending to say a couple more words, but Song Xiehu patted him on the shoulder and said with a solemn expression, "Brother, I can't help with anything else. I can only wish you triumph from the very start and steady advancement with every step."
Lian Youming gave a silent smile, waved his hand, and turned to leave with the money.
Only after the youth was far away did Song Xiehu clutch the box, put away the gold bar, and turn to leave with his underling, seeming not to care about the yard anymore.
"The Taiji School, the Eagle Claw Sect, the Baji School... Good heavens above! No wonder they had me track him down—turns out they shoved me out here to take the blade! I can't afford to provoke a single one of them... We're shutting down the black market for now. Let's head into the mountains to lay low first."
***
Returning home, Lian Youming called out a greeting to his parents, who were butchering a pig and cutting meat, before heading into his room.
Now that the medicinal herbs were assembled, the tiger bone liquor could naturally be steeped. Perhaps afraid he would ruin the ingredients, the King of Scraps had simply carried off the tiger bones as well, saying he would bring them back in a month once the brew was ready.
Having stashed the money he brought home, Lian Youming lay down on the bed with a calm mind. Sleeping in his clothes, he assumed a posture according to the diagrams in the Sleeping Dan Gong and quietly drifted off.
With a great battle looming, claiming not to be nervous was nothing but a lie.
"When all is said and done, strength is what does the talking."
He slept all the way until the dead of night. Listening to the wind outside the window, having fully recharged his spirit, Lian Youming reopened his eyes. He gently stretched his limbs, threw back the quilt, and pushed the door open, stepping out as light and silent as an old cat padding on soft paws.
A greasy, savory fragrance lingered in the air. On the table sat two dishes of still-warm pork cracklings, likely left over by his younger brother and sister.
Lian Youming popped a piece into his mouth, chewing as he walked out.
The cold night was silent, with a lone moon hanging high. His eyes gleamed as he drew a light breath, swiftly walked out of the street, and ran alone toward the banks of the Ba River.
A sudden gust swept over the riverbank, swirling up an expanse of white—not snow, but reed catkins, blooming profusely along the water, pure and white as snow.
After briskly stripping off his clothes down to a pair of large boxer shorts, Lian Youming plunged into the bone-chilling river water, bobbing up and down against the current to temper the force of his fists and kicks.
Earlier, when settling his mind, he had let a small fish slip through his fingers in this very water. That had been a lapse in his control over his force, and he wanted to use this to patch the flaw.
Yet the river surged violently. The harder he pushed, the stronger the opposing force he felt. The moment an undercurrent swept past, more than half the force in his limbs was immediately ground away. Having to constantly stabilize his center of gravity while shifting techniques, his once-sharp strikes instantly became clumsy and sluggish.
After struggling this way for two consecutive days, Lian Youming made not the slightest bit of progress.
It was not until the night three days later, when he arrived at his training spot by the river, that he found a large earthen vat set among the reeds, with a slip of paper weighed down inside.
"Place this large vat into the water just as it is, and stabilize it by the most effortless means without relying on external objects."
Lian Youming found it amusing. It seemed the old man had finally been unable to hold back and was using roundabout ways to give him pointers.
Glancing around, Lian Youming lifted the large vat and placed it into the river.
Yet as soon as the empty vat touched the water, it drifted a distance away. Moreover, its rim was too tall and its footing unsteady; the moment he let go, it toppled over.
"Heh, this is too simple. Does he take me for a fool?"
Quick with his eyes and hands, Lian Youming steadied the vat, pressing both hands against its walls and exerting force with a flick. The vat, which had been drifting with the current, instantly stabilized on the water's surface—not stationary, but spinning at high speed.
Yet as he watched the spinning vat on the river, the smile on his face gradually faded. His eyes flickered as though he had spotted something different, and he ended up spinning that large vat in the river for an entire night.
When he returned the next night, the vat was one-third full of water.
Understanding immediately, Lian Youming carried the large vat back into the river and set it spinning once more.
This time was considerably more strenuous than before. Though its center of gravity was steadier, its weight had increased. If he exerted too much force, the body of the vat nearly sank; if too little, it refused to spin. He could only keep experimenting between the two extremes, and by the time he found that balance point, dawn was nearly breaking.
After spinning it for two consecutive nights, Lian Youming was finally able to stabilize the vat in the water to his heart's content.
Yet the following day, the water inside the vat increased by another third.
This time, the moment the large vat was placed into the river, it sank immediately, descending until only a finger's breadth remained between the water's surface and the rim.
Lian Youming simply brought out his Toad Fishing Skill, sinking his qi to the dantian. Channeling force through his hands, he pressed against the rim, preparing to give it a fierce push—only for the vat to sink the instant he made contact.
It was far harder to control than before.
Lian Youming had no choice but to lift the vat back up, keeping two-thirds of the water, and continue spinning it with silk-reeling force.
Just going back and forth like this nearly exhausted him to the point of collapse in a single night. His ten fingers ached, both arms went numb and stiff, and his whole body was nearly soaked through.
This time, it took him seven grueling nights before he could steady the large vat in the river once more, pushing and turning it as it whirled with the current. His control of force grew increasingly fine and meticulous, though the cost was being worked half to death.
Gazing at the stabilized vat, the youth danced with joy on the bank, both pained and exhilarated. "Haha! Old man, I bet you can't fill this vat to the brim!"
Yet the following night, staring at a gaping hole in the bottom of the vat, Lian Youming was dumbfounded.
"It leaks, and I'm still supposed to steady it?"
The moment the large vat entered the water, it sank straight to the bottom.
Lian Youming was hardly one to give up easily. With his thick eyebrows knitted tight, he simply took hold of the broken vat, found a deep section of the river, held his breath, and sank under.
Deep in the reed marsh, the King of Scraps watched quietly from the shadows. Over these past days, he had taken in all of Lian Youming's performance. The boy possessed both comprehension and perseverance, truly blessed with exceptional talent.
Yet seeing Lian Youming embrace the large vat and submerge himself for so long without the slightest stir, the corner of the old man's mouth twitched, and misgivings crept into his heart. "Could this silly boy have drowned in there?"
Waiting a while longer, seeing the river surface remain eerily quiet, the King of Scraps could no longer hold back. "This knucklehead—why is he so pig-headed?"
Fortunately, a figure suddenly dragged the large vat and scrambled up onto the bank.
Having swallowed water, Lian Youming sprawled on the bank, coughing incessantly, but soon sat back up.
He truly had nearly drowned.
Without going back into the water, Lian Youming put on his clothes and just sat by the bank. He placed the broken vat back into the water, but every time he let go, it sank straight to the bottom; how could it possibly be stabilized?
He pondered this day and night—thinking at home during the day, thinking by the river at night. He did not go to ask the King of Scraps either, but spent every day staring blankly at the water's surface, untangling the thoughts in his mind. Before he knew it, eight or nine days had passed.
How could Lian Youming not understand what the King of Scraps had meant these past days? The elder was using this large vat to temper his finger strength, arm strength, and lower body, as well as the variations in force within Taiji.
Taiji was soft on the outside and hard on the inside. What was soft was momentum, and what was hard was force—momentum like drifting clouds across the sky, force like an ocean overturning and mountains crumbling.
Yet he possessed force without momentum.
Though momentum was formless, it could still be felt: it was the wind, the water, the softness. Right now, this broken vat sat in the water, helpless against its surroundings, oppressed by the momentum of the water. Hard force melted the moment it touched water, but what about soft force? That, he did not understand.
"Hard and soft... Softness isn't weakness... Softness..."
Back when they were heading to the Changbai Mountains, Li Da had told him that what was too rigid broke easily, and that one had to constantly restrain oneself. That, too, spoke of softness.
"Softness is taking in, it is neutralizing. Taking the opponent's momentum and neutralizing it, turning it into your own momentum... Borrowing momentum through momentum..."
On this evening, Lian Youming muttered to himself, staring blankly at the large vat in the river.
"But how can I borrow this water's momentum? The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain seemed to balance hardness and softness. Every move and posture looked feather-light and powerless, yet the momentum of his punches was like a mountain of heavy hammers."
The scene of the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain imparting the silk-reeling force suddenly flashed across his mind. Instead of gripping the rim of the vat, he instinctively stirred the water inside it. Watching the swirling vortex he created, his eyes gradually brightened, filled with sudden insight.
"If I can't borrow it, I'll create the momentum myself."
Lian Youming reached both hands into the vat, lightly turning and guiding the water in a posture of sealing and closing—not fierce and overbearing, but slow and unhurried. After several attempts, as the water inside the vat spun rapidly, it actually rose noticeably higher than the river surface outside.
Only when Lian Youming slowly withdrew his hands did the swaying, broken vat miraculously right itself. As though resting on the great river as its base, it spun softly without stopping, drifting like a top toward the center of the river before finally sinking under.
Dazed for a long while, the youth seemed unable to believe he had managed to do it. Then he turned his head and broke into loud laughter.
"Haha, old man, I'm not stupid, am I!"
How could he not know the King of Scraps was watching from the shadows? When he ran over to show off, he found not a single soul in the vast white expanse of the reed marsh. Instead, an old book with a blackened cover lay weighed down beneath a stone.
"Huo's Wrestling Method, hand-copied in Jinghai by Huo Yuanjia of the Huo family in the Gengzi Year..."
Reading those words, Lian Youming's lips trembled and his pupils contracted sharply. "Huo Yuanjia?"
Chapter 72