Even so, Lian Youming was already so full he couldn't eat another bite, yet that terrible hunger had only eased slightly, not vanished completely. It continued to relentlessly stimulate his nerves, forcing him to keep eating.
It was as if he weren't eating food but a bellyful of air—it did nothing to quell his hunger.
But Lian Youming knew he couldn't eat anymore. Whether he was full or not was beside the point; his stomach certainly couldn't take it. He was already stuffed to his throat—he couldn't very well burst from overeating.
Ignoring the horrified looks of the others, he trudged back to the dormitory with his round belly protruding, returned to his bed, pulled the covers over himself, and fell asleep in agony and torment without realizing it.
The moment he closed his eyes, he felt hot and cold, and strange dreams plagued him—all about food of every kind.
He didn't know how long he'd slept.
“Lian big brother, are you all right? Wake up! Wake up quickly!”
“What happened? What's going on?”
Hearing the shouts beside him, Lian Youming opened his eyes in a daze, subconsciously smacking his lips a couple of times.
But when he opened his eyes, he saw many people gathered in the dormitory.
Platoon Leader Yang, who had escorted Liu Dabiao down the mountain, was back too, and everyone was looking at him with concern.
Xie Laosan was there too, holding a tobacco pipe, puffing away one mouthful at a time. His eyes glowed with an obscure light under the lamp, and he said lightly, “It's nothing. Most likely he ate something weird during the day.”
Lian Youming came to his senses and realized it was already late at night outside.
“What's wrong with me?”
Platoon Leader Yang said irritably, “What's wrong? You've slept for over ten hours. Your belly is swollen like a ball, and nobody could wake you. I thought you were a goner. Didn't I tell you not to mess around and rest properly? What are you up to now? Exactly what did you eat?”
The moment his belly was mentioned, Lian Youming's face changed, and he jumped up from the bed.
But Platoon Leader Yang pressed his hands on Lian Youming's shoulders and said sternly, “I'm not finished. You're going to rest properly from now on. You don't need to work on the forest farm for the time being. You… what's wrong with you?”
Everyone saw Lian Youming's face suddenly turn pale, then bluish, then visibly flush red, and they all grew nervous.
This being sent down to the countryside had just begun, so why was it already one trouble after another?
Lian Youming's expression was tense as he took a deep breath. “Hurry, don't hold me down. Let me out first.”
Platoon Leader Yang was a genuine Northeasterner—honest by nature with a strong sense of responsibility. Seeing Lian Youming like this and still wanting to go out, he pressed him back onto the bed with a stern expression.
“You're not going anywhere. You just stay—”
Lian Youming's face now showed torment and grimness. “I can't hold it in anymore.”
Platoon Leader Yang was startled. “Hold in what?”
The next second, an indescribably loud fart burst from beneath Lian Youming.
“Pfft!”
“Oh my god.”
The people who had been packed into the room instantly surged out the door.
Lian Youming shoved Platoon Leader Yang's hand aside and, without a word, clamped his buttocks and rushed to the toilet.
During the day he had wolfed down too much, especially all sorts of odds and ends in the dormitory. But the most deadly were the two bags of roasted soybeans Wu Kui had brought; he had wolfed them down without thinking, and now his stomach was like a drum.
It was truly deadly.
He squatted in the toilet for a good half hour before emerging, pale as earth.
But instead of being alarmed, he was delighted.
Although it was troublesome, it showed his previous attempts hadn't been useless—maybe his method had been wrong.
As the martial arts novels said, to cultivate one had to first build a foundation. Since this swallowing qi method mobilized the Five Qi, he naturally had to first replenish his own qi.
But how could he still feel hungry after eating so much during the day? Was it that he hadn't eaten enough?
Recalling those dietary therapy recipes, he gradually came to realize.
Perhaps what he had eaten wasn't right.
Those recipes recorded meat from various wild beasts or rare medicinal herbs, but he had only eaten mixed grains before.
It seemed he still needed to find an opportunity to verify this.
Pondering this, he returned to the dormitory.
Seeing Lian Youming's sunken belly, Platoon Leader Yang first sighed in relief, then gave a few more reminders before leaving.
Xie Laosan, on the other hand, looked at Lian Youming with a playful expression and said with a smile, “You rest well. I'll come get you tomorrow morning.”
Lian Youming felt creeped out by this old codger's look, but on the surface he remained calm and answered.
Since he already knew the other's background, he wasn't afraid at all.
When almost everyone had left, Lian Youming asked Wu Kui and the others, “How is Liu Dabiao?”
“Platoon Leader Yang said it's nothing serious. He'll be back after resting for two days.”
Wu Kui sat on the bed, soaking a pair of stinky feet, holding an old book of unknown title and reading with great interest.
Yu Wen and Yu Wu, meanwhile, set up a chessboard by the window and, as they played, talked about the educated young women they had met during the day—this one's single eyelid, that one's double eyelids, even remembering exactly how many moles were on people's faces.
Lian Youming began to feel uncomfortable. His stomach was empty, and the hunger returned, gnawing at him.
He lay on the bedplanks and simply went back to pondering the brocade silk, then fell into a deep sleep.
In the blink of an eye, another night passed.
Lian Youming didn't rush to the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain to practice his art. This man was eccentric and unpredictable; who knew whether what he taught was good or bad? If he harbored ill intentions in secret, Lian could end up harmed without even knowing how he died.
But he couldn't not go. Before that, however, he wanted to understand the brocade silk as much as possible to avoid being deceived.
He ate some thin porridge at the canteen, then took his rifle and wandered around the woods.
Xie Laosan seemed to have been waiting for him early.
Looking at the old man's hunched back, Lian Youming forcibly suppressed the impulse to shoot him in the back.
The fact that the other had hesitated so long to act showed he was old and crafty; he probably wouldn't reveal himself unless he was sure of victory.
Changing his mind, Lian Youming climbed an old tree with his rifle on his back. Taking advantage of the time spent gathering pine nuts, he said mysteriously, “Uncle Xie, let me ask you something.”
Xie Laosan was dressing a roe deer. Hearing this, he looked over with some doubt. “What is it?”
Lian Youming whispered, “Does that old man behind the canteen guard some treasure?”
Xie Laosan's face showed little expression, but hearing this, his pupils trembled as if he wanted to say something. Realizing his lapse, he lowered his head again. “Nonsense.”
Seeing that Xie Laosan was still playing dumb, Lian Youming sneered inwardly and acted even more convincingly. “That man clearly hides his depths, yet he's willing to guard this place for decades. In my opinion, there's almost certainly treasure buried here. Besides, where is this? This is the dragon-rising land of the Qing dynasty. Maybe there's treasure buried here.”
He had thought up this line last night. Going by the usual tropes of martial arts novels, in such a situation the probability of guarding treasure was high.
Xie Laosan scoffed. “Rubbish. We've been poor all our lives. When have we ever heard of treasure? Don't talk nonsense, kid.”
Lian Youming shelled a few pine nuts and popped them into his mouth. He said nonchalantly, “Uncle Xie, you're just out of the loop. Know about grave robbing? Those rustic experts take one look and, based on feng shui, know where the great tombs are. Coincidentally, I'm skilled in feng shui and selecting burial spots. Look at these mountains, undulating like a giant dragon coiling around. It's very possible there's a tomb hidden here.”
The more he said, the more mysterious and convincing he sounded, spouting nonsense with a perfectly straight face.
But while the speaker meant nothing by it, the listener took it to heart. Xie Laosan's right hand, which had been dressing the roe deer, suddenly stopped, as if frozen.
Lian Youming wouldn't miss this. His pupils contracted, and turbulent waves rose in his heart.
Could he have accidentally hit the mark with his nonsense?
Was there a tomb hidden in this mountain? Were these people here for the treasure inside?
But what treasure could make these extraordinary people willingly sacrifice their entire lives to guard this place?
Just as Xie Laosan raised his head, unexpectedly Lian Youming changed the subject. “Uncle Xie, do you know martial arts?”
Xie Laosan's eyes flickered. After a long while, he said, “I practiced a few moves with the old hunters in the village.”
Lian Youming seemed interested. He said seriously, “I've seen a great master before. When he inhaled and exhaled, it was as if he swallowed a small dragon. Tsk tsk, several inches long—terrifyingly wicked.”
Xie Laosan's face truly changed now. He furrowed his messy brows. “Where did you see that?”
Lian Youming nodded. “I saw it on the train when we were sent down to the countryside. He seems to have come to the Northeast too.”
He decided to say this in order to provoke this man.
Anyway, neither of them was anything good, so it was naturally better to muddy the waters as much as possible.
As expected, Xie Laosan's face alternated between sunny and cloudy, but in the end he suppressed it, said nothing, and walked toward the other side.
For five consecutive days, Lian Youming kept running into Xie Laosan while going into the mountains to hunt during the day.
Meanwhile, besides squeezing some benefits from the educated youth at the forest farm, he also asked around in various ways, especially about things he didn't understand in his practice. Then at night he would ponder them according to the brocade silk, and unexpectedly gained quite a lot.
It wasn't until the evening of the sixth day that the lights in the dormitory went out. As he listened to the others' snoring, Lian Youming had just closed his eyes when he suddenly felt his body grow cold and his collar tighten. By the time he reacted, he had been yanked out of the quilt.
Wind whistled in his ears; above, the moon was bright and stars sparse. The pallid moonlight fell over the woods as if covered with a layer of cold frost.
The howling north wind blew in his face, making it impossible to open his eyes.
Under the moonlight, a withered, thin figure moved lightly and swiftly, rising and falling without sound, carrying a person in his hand.
By the time they stopped, Lian Youming had been pressed against a thick tree stump.
The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain stared at him with a gloomy face. “Kid, what I hate most in this life are two-faced, double-dealing types.”
Lian Youming was dressed thinly in a sweater and cotton pants. The cold wind made him shiver and his teeth chatter. “Who… who's two-faced? I've been weak these past couple of days. Can't I rest first?”
Dressed in black from head to toe, with sunken cheeks, slightly bulging eyes, and a head of flying white hair, under the moonlight he looked like an old ghost from a grave, making Lian Youming's scalp go numb.
The old and the young faced each other, but the old man remained silent for a long time, then said in a hoarse voice, “I sense an invisible killing intent gathering below the mountain. Once heavy snow seals the mountain, those people will probably make their move.”
Lian Youming curled up, his face turning bluish. “You can sense all that? Do you think you're a god?”
The old man didn't say more. He placed his hands on his knees, tilted his head to gaze at the moon, opening and closing his mouth and tongue. With the rise and fall of his chest and abdomen, several extremely clear toad croaks emerged from his throat.
The toad croak seemed to have a mysterious penetrating power, calming Lian Youming's agitated thoughts, and even the cold on his body seemed to recede considerably.
Lian Youming stared blankly, eyes wide. “What kind of technique is this?”
But the old man's expression changed without reason. His white eyebrows rose, and he looked full of surprise. “It's been a few days. Why do you look like your qi is depleted? Have you been… indulging in solitary pleasures behind closed doors?”
Lian Youming rolled his eyes. “I'm still a virgin and don't think about those things. A peerless genius like me is destined to be number one under heaven. How could I be troubled by romantic affairs?”
The old man seemed to have figured out the carefree nature of the boy before him. He narrowed his eyes and sneered, “You've just learned a bit of boxing and just glimpsed the martial way. You're like a mayfly looking up at the sky, yet you dare to talk about being number one under heaven.”
Lian Youming was freezing and had no patience to argue. He urged impatiently, “Are you going to teach me some supreme techniques? Then hurry up.”
The old man's face twitched, and he suddenly extended a hand. “Hold it.”
Lian Youming didn't waste words and did as he was told.
Unexpectedly, the moment he grasped the old man's right hand, he was startled to feel a strange internal force sweep over him. In a daze, it was as if he were trapped in a whirlpool of mud. He lost his balance immediately and fell to the ground like a drunk.
Lian Youming fell hard. He was about to curse but, sensing the wonder of it, his eyes brightened. “Hey, this is interesting.”
The old man called out, “Get up. What did you feel?”
Lian Youming got up from the ground and said without thinking, “Internal force.”
The old man nodded. “Exactly. It's internal force, also the method of advancing, retreating, attacking, and defending in internal martial arts. Your Eagle Claw martial art may look similar in form, but you know nothing of the key points of issuing internal force. It's nothing more than children playing house.”
Lian Youming's eyes burned with intensity as he held the old man's right hand, feeling that strange force.
The operation of this internal force seemed to contain a certain rhythm, like coiling silk or a swirling vortex. Once touched, one would be set spinning like a top.
The old man looked at the boy, whose face was full of surprise and delight, and seemed almost immersed in the wonder of the internal force. A trace of reminiscence flashed in his eyes. “Do you know where this internal force comes from?”
If this question had been asked before, Lian Youming probably couldn't have answered, but now he knew.
But he said, “I don't know.”
The old man continued on his own. “It is the breathing method.”
The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain slowly raised his head, gazing at the moon in the sky—though it had witnessed changes in the world and the vicissitudes of life, it remained eternal. His voice was deep and lingering: “The human body holds countless secrets. Between each inhalation and exhalation lies the manifestation of those secrets, and also the foundation of martial arts. It contains the principle of yin and yang, the work of creation, the changes of the Five Elements, and the mysteries of life and death. On the road to exploring the truth of the martial way, countless proud talents have already fallen, and the lofty aspirations of many have been buried.”
As he listened to the low voice before him, the old man's right hand suddenly tightened, gripping his wrist. Immediately, an indescribable aura surged from that withered, aged body—like water like fire, like crashing thunder and lightning, like a violent thunderclap, surging and sweeping over him in an instant.
Lian Youming felt his hands and feet tremble as if trapped in a quagmire. Just as he was about to struggle, he heard the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain continue, “Focus your mind, calm your heart.”
As soon as the words were spoken, the old man raised a hand and flicked it. Lian Youming's 1.8-something-meter body was instantly lifted into the air, as if weightless, his hands and feet trembling like a spinning top.
Alarmed, Lian Youming quickly steadied his mind.
In his ears, the aged voice rang out again. “Remember the length of my breathing when I inhale and exhale. This is the ‘Taiji Toad-Fishing Skill.’”
As soon as the words fell, Lian Youming felt a strange rhythm transmitted from where their two hands touched, like resonance. The muscles of his entire body, starting from his left arm, began to tighten and tremble in response, slowly spreading to every limb and bone, as if twisted into a single whole.
His bones throughout his body also emitted a series of clear, strange sounds in this peculiar, mystical rhythm.
“Withdraw your mind, listen to my breath.”
As the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain finished speaking, his breath quietly grew long and drawn out—sometimes long, sometimes short, rising and falling. His cheeks puffed out like a golden toad calling, and his belly also swelled slightly. Immediately, a series of clear toad croaks rang out under the moonlight.
Lian Youming listened to each toad croak. His temples throbbed uncontrollably, and the muscles of his entire body trembled along with them.
Uncomfortable.
Painful.
But when he changed his breath according to the frequency of the old man's breathing, the pain of his twisting muscles gradually faded. It was as if passivity had turned to activity; without the other man's prompting, every inhalation and exhalation could cause changes within himself.
Until their breathing coincided and the frequency of their muscle tremors matched, Lian Youming was surprised to discover that he felt much warmer.
The breath swallowed into his throat and tongue was cool at first, but after several inhalations and exhalations it became warm. Once in his belly, it was like a round elixir, condensed and not dissipating, emitting a trace of warm energy that spread throughout his body, driving away the cold.
“This Toad-Fishing Skill is a night practice method. From now on, remember to come practice at midnight. If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me.”
Hearing this, Lian Youming put on a delighted expression on the surface, but a trace of coldness rose in his eyes.
This old ghost had no good intentions.
If it had been earlier, Lian Youming might have believed this man, but fortunately these past days he had figured out many things.
Although this breathing method was precious, in the end it mobilized one's own essence and qi. For someone with no foundation at all, it was a deadly thing.
Perhaps there were no signs at first, but over time, it would drain the vitality within the human body.
Chapter 9