Qi

Yang Zhen strode with the posture of dragons and tigers, naturally imposing without showing anger. His tiger-like eyes swept across the courtyard, instantly silencing everyone. "You lot," Yang Zhen said, pointing toward the formal disciples, his voice booming like a great bell that set the roof tiles rattling, "go fetch your horses at once and head to the drill ground outside the city. Today I will test your martial arts!" The youths scattered in a flurry. While Qin Sang was still standing by in confusion, a tall, lanky youth caught him by the arm. "Little brother, why don't you ride with me? I'm Huang Chen. What should I call you, brother?" This Huang Chen appeared to be the oldest among the youths present. Seeing that the others were also pairing off, Qin Sang followed along beside him. "I'm Qin Sang. Brother Huang, where are we heading?" "The drill ground for martial practice is outside the city. We have to ride horses from the escort agency to get there." The Wuwei Escort Agency was situated in the southern quarter of Sanwu City, and the drill ground was constructed outside the south gate. Qin Sang did not know how to ride, so Huang Chen brought him along. Pairs of riders galloped side by side toward the outskirts. Just as they reached the south city gate, they found a contingent of government troops standing in stern formation with gleaming helmets and bright armor. The soldiers guarded the entrance, forbidding commoners from passing, leaving a dense crowd blocked at the gate. The group had no choice but to dismount and lead their horses forward. After asking around, they learned that Prince Zhenshui was visiting Baoguo Temple today to offer incense and pray for blessings for the Sacred Emperor; the royal procession had already departed the prince's estate. Baoguo Temple was situated on Mount Luoma to the west of Sanwu City, fifteen li away. However, the south gate was the primary entrance, and such solemn sacrificial affairs required exiting through the south gate. Squeezing into the crowd, they waited patiently for a time before hearing gongs and drums clearing the way. Soon afterward, Prince Zhenshui's grand entourage advanced from the inner city, flanked at the vanguard and rear by elite soldiers. The dozen-odd ornate carriages in the middle were veiled by thick drapes, leaving it impossible to glimpse the figure sitting inside the imperial conveyance. Curious, Qin Sang stood on his tiptoes to peer ahead. As the opulent procession exited the city gate, both sides of the thoroughfare were choked with the makeshift shanties of displaced refugees. Qin Sang noticed then that the guards escorting the prince's carriages wore cloth armor inscribed on the back with the character "Zhen." The color, design, and even the calligraphy were identical to the garments worn by Bai Jianglan and his companions, except that Bai Jianglan and the others had worn short tunics that day with "Dong" stitched upon their backs. Witnessing this, Qin Sang felt a stir in his heart and leaned in to inquire of Huang Chen. Suspecting nothing amiss, Huang Chen whispered, "Brother Qin might not know, but they aren't ordinary government troops—they are His Highness's personal guard. According to Great Sui's ancestral statutes, a commandery prince is permitted to raise five hundred retainers, effectively serving as his private army. These prince's guards are either selected from the military or recruited from itinerant martial artists, every one of them an elite warrior of formidable skill. Normally they guard the prince's residence, and only when a prince, royal son, or commandery princess travels do they serve as an escort. Not only Prince Zhenshui, but other commandery princes possess similar personal guards as well. Those you saw before were likely the personal guards of Prince Dongyang." Qin Sang fell into thought. That day, he had heard Water Monkey say that Great Sui had eight commandery princes, and among them indeed stood Prince Dongyang, a full-blooded brother of the reigning emperor. Water Monkey had seemed brash and careless on the surface, but his lips had been sealed tight, revealing not a shred of confidential truth. Bai Jianglan was actually the commander of Prince Dongyang's personal guard, holding a status far higher than Qin Sang had imagined. That mysterious young lady was probably either the prince's favored companion or his daughter. Once the prince's procession passed, the crowd was finally permitted through. Galloping outside the city walls for a short while, they turned off the main thoroughfare onto a mountain path and arrived at an estate. Huang Chen explained that this estate was also property of the escort agency. A vast, level drill ground occupied the estate grounds. The youths lined up on the drill ground, and Yang Zhen divided them into groups. There were three others who, like Qin Sang, had only come to learn a single art, so they stood together. Yang Zhen tested his formal disciples first and left them to train on their own before walking over to instruct the four of them in martial arts. The other three already had some foundation, making Qin Sang the weakest of the group, and he could sense that Yang Zhen did not pay him much attention. Even so, the silver had not been spent in vain. Yang Zhen truly lived up to his sterling reputation, teaching the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist with meticulous care, and he told Qin Sang that he could return every day until he had mastered it. Over the course of a single day, Qin Sang learned the complete final seven forms of the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist from Yang Zhen. Yet to his surprise, the first three forms taught by Yang Zhen differed substantially from those taught by Bai Jianglan. While the postures were identical, Yang Zhen was lacking far too many details compared to Bai Jianglan. Those very details exerted a tremendous influence on the power of each strike. Having practiced those first three forms for so many days, Qin Sang felt this difference with particular clarity. Yang Zhen had an exceptional reputation, and with such a commonplace fist technique, there was no reason for him to hold back secrets; thus, the disparity lay in the two men themselves. It was said that Yang Zhen's martial arts ranked among the top ten in Sanwu City, though it was unclear whether he possessed internal force. Could Bai Jianglan be a top-tier expert? Regardless, the silver had been spent, and the martial art had to be learned. He intended to ponder and refine the remaining seven forms using the guidance Bai Jianglan had given him for the first three. The estate was not far from Qingyang Temple, and Qin Sang went there to practice martial arts every day, soon mastering the entire Tiger-Subduing Long Fist. Even afterward, he continued to visit the estate regularly, listening to Yang Zhen's disciples discuss their insights into the martial path, gathering many anecdotes of the martial world from their talk, and even learning how to ride and shoot a bow. In the third lunar month of spring, grass grew lush and warblers took flight. In typical famine years, the displaced refugees would have returned to their home villages to plant crops by this season. Yet this year, word spread that the northern rebellions were growing ever more rampant, with signal fires rising everywhere, and refugees continued to flee southward in an unending stream. Man-made calamities proved even worse than natural disasters. The Nether Scripture still showed no progress. Even though Qin Sang repeatedly urged himself to remain patient, he could no longer sit still. He could only blame his lack of progress on not working hard enough, and so he began meditating throughout the night, bordering on obsession. During the day he still had to practice fist techniques, chant scriptures, and help the old Daoist priest. As a result, he was busy around the clock. Fortunately, meditation also helped him recover his energy, so he did not feel worn down by the toil. Moonlight spilled into the stone cottage. Qin Sang gazed blankly out the window. The full moon was like a wheel, and across the desolately quiet night sky, a shooting star trailed past, plunging beyond the distant mountains into the boundless, vast world. Six months of diligent effort, nearly four months of austere seated meditation, and at long last, the qi described in the scripture manifested within his body! What a person feared most was not perseverance itself, but persevering without ever seeing hope. Yet the moment true fruition arrived, one knew that every ounce of effort had been worthwhile. When he genuinely felt that faint, cool wisp of qi, Qin Sang felt as though he were in a dream. That strand of qi was as thin as a single hair, darting erratically through his dantian like an unruly child. Qin Sang tried to seize it to examine it closely, only to discover that it was utterly impossible. The Nether Scripture stated that one could achieve inner vision only after breaking through to the second layer of the cultivation method. Right now, the only thing he could do was direct that strand of qi into his meridians and carefully guide it along the pathway outlined in the scripture. After several circulation cycles passed without mishap, Qin Sang breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to relax his mind and devote himself fully to cultivation, a terrifying, excruciating agony abruptly surged through his meridians. Qin Sang trembled from head to toe, curling violently into a tight ball. Letting out a muffled groan of agony, the clothes upon his back were instantly drenched in cold sweat.