Iron Shirt

"Nannan, don't be afraid. Brother is here." Chen Ping'an closed the wooden courtyard gate and walked over to Chen Er Ya, gathering her into his arms. "Brother, Nannan isn't afraid!" Pressed tightly against Chen Ping'an's chest, Chen Er Ya clung to him like a startled fawn. This girl... Chen Ping'an smiled silently. She said she wasn't afraid, but she didn't look like it at all. Nine years old! Usually she seemed like a little adult, but at heart she was still a child. In his previous life, children at Chen Er Ya's age had only just started school! They were treasures in every household, afraid they might melt if held in one's mouth, afraid they might shatter if cradled; one could never dote on them enough. But here, she had to bear the hardships of the family early. Chen Ping'an knew that what Chen Er Ya feared was not Little Tiger. She feared that the hard-won peaceful days they had barely managed to support would be gone. "It will get better. Everything will get better." Chen Ping'an patted Chen Er Ya's head and comforted her. "Mm. It will get better!" Chen Er Ya leaned in Chen Ping'an's arms for a while, seeming to regain a little spirit. "Come on, let's eat. The food's gone cold." Chen Ping'an urged her. Soup had spilled across nearly half the wooden table, and several chunks of meat had fallen off, obviously because that lackey Liu'er had slammed the table earlier. Chen Er Ya didn't mind. She carefully gathered up the chunks of meat, chewed them slowly, savoring the taste, and only swallowed them reluctantly. "Nannan, Brother will definitely give you a good life." Watching Chen Er Ya's obedient manner, Chen Ping'an silently swore to himself. "One day, Brother will make you a carefree little princess! I will shield you from every storm." After several years together, Chen Ping'an had long regarded Chen Er Ya as his true sister. After the meal, Chen Er Ya did not trouble Chen Ping'an. She cleared the bowls and chopsticks, wiped the table, and took them directly to the small kitchen to wash. Chen Ping'an looked at the broken crossbar and wood shavings on the ground, without a trace of a smile. When Old Chen was still alive, he would never have had to endure such humiliation. Old Chen, when he was at the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office, had not been an ordinary runner. He had been a man only a little short of becoming a head runner. He could wield the Thirteen Yamen Sabers with fierce vigor. If he had not been gravely injured on duty, Chen Ping'an might have enjoyed a simplified second-generation runner's life. Speaking of Old Chen, in his youth he had been quite a figure. He had made his way alone through the vast Weishui Commandery City, and even joined the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office, firmly establishing himself in the commandery city. He had bought this property and secured a place to settle and make a living. Later, he married, had Chen Ping'an and Chen Er Ya, and continued the family line. For commoners, he was absolutely an inspirational example. Unfortunately, his life... His wife had died in difficult childbirth giving birth to Chen Er Ya, and the family's eldest son had drowned a few years earlier; only then did the transmigrated Chen Ping'an come to be. Old Chen himself was later injured on duty and finally passed away. Chen Ping'an cleaned up the broken crossbar and wood shavings, then found a similar stick from the woodpile in the corner of the courtyard to serve as a temporary door-bolt crossbar. "Little Tiger's skin and membranes are thick, and his flesh tempering is accomplished. He's probably at the qi and blood second layer, perfected!" Recalling the scene with Little Tiger, combined with what he had seen while on duty, Chen Ping'an guessed silently. Martial cultivation externally refines the body, stretching sinews and bones, and internally strengthens the organs. For ordinary cultivators, without the guidance of a renowned teacher or the supply of resources, even several months might not be enough to enter the gate of cultivation. Anyone who achieves the qi and blood first layer is already remarkable! In the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office where Chen Ping'an worked, many unregistered temporary runners had not even reached the qi and blood first layer. Reaching the qi and blood first layer meant truly stepping onto the path of martial cultivation. At the qi and blood first layer, perfected, with skin and membranes thick as thin cowhide, one could be considered an ordinary skilled fighter. Such people, if they mixed into gangs, could easily become gang leaders. If they took the official route, with a little greasing, they could easily become temporary runners. At the qi and blood second layer, they would be core backbone strength among the gangs that roamed the streets and alleys. Moreover, as long as their background was clean and they had no bad record, they could easily pass the examination and become a registered runner at the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office. In fact, most registered runners had not yet reached the qi and blood second layer. As for someone like Little Tiger, at the qi and blood second layer, perfected, even in the Tiger Head Gang he was rare and could be considered senior gang leadership. At the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office, he could also be considered a reserve head runner. Even more, if he had deep connections and a suitable opportunity, he might even become a head runner. Old Chen had been famous and highly respected in Pear Blossom Alley because of his qi and blood second layer, perfected cultivation and his consummate mastery of the registered runner's standard saber technique, the Thirteen Yamen Sabers. In ten days, Chen Ping'an would have to repay Little Tiger fourteen taels of silver, principal and interest included. At present, counting all his savings, he had at most a little over seven taels, less than eight. To clear the debt, he could only find another way. "Strength, strength! To truly establish himself in this world, undisturbed by anything, one still needed strength!" Thinking of the golden finger panel activated the previous night and the Iron Shirt method recorded within it, Chen Ping'an's heart burned with fervor, rising with boundless hope. Chen Er Ya was busy in the small kitchen, while Chen Ping'an gradually calmed down. He had stayed up all night; today, the office had given him a day of rest. It was perfect for practicing martial arts. After reading through Iron Shirt once the previous day, the details recorded in the method had all been collected by the golden finger panel. As Chen Ping'an settled his mind, the recorded Iron Shirt method appeared one by one in his mind. Iron Shirt was the most basic qi and blood tempering method. When first practicing, one needed to wrap soft cloth around the chest and back, wind it several times, then rub it firmly with the hands. After that, bend and extend the elbows and arms so that the chest moved inward and outward. At night, it was best to use a hard wooden board as a bed, letting the bones come into frequent contact with hard objects, gradually becoming firm over time. The practice method of Iron Shirt sounded simple, but when actually cultivating, if the method was improper, not only might one fail, one would suffer much hardship for nothing. However, for Chen Ping'an, this was not a problem at all. Because the effect of his golden finger panel was: as long as he cultivated, he would gain. Once attained, forever attained; it never regresses! Chen Ping'an found a few undergarments from the room, then removed his upper garment, wrapped them around his chest and back several times, and began trying according to the Iron Shirt method. Chen Ping'an rubbed firmly with his hands, then bent and stretched his elbows and arms, making his chest move inward and outward. He repeated this again and again. Later, after Chen Er Ya finished washing the dishes, she sat on a wooden stool and watched her brother's strange actions with a curious look. "Brother, is this martial training? What a strange cultivation method." As the practice continued, Chen Ping'an felt the skin on his body burning hot, and the pain was quite severe. "Keep going!" Chen Ping'an gritted his teeth and endured. He practiced for a full hour. Just as he was about to be unable to hold on, a text symbol +1 suddenly flashed within his field of vision. Name: Chen Ping'an Realm: None Martial Art: Iron Shirt not yet entered (1/5) ... "It works!" At that moment, Chen Ping'an finally smiled.