Martial arts were divided into two broad categories: jin methods and form methods.
The fighting method in Ape Fist differed from both; it involved only movement essentials and muscular force exertion, which ordinary people could learn as well, characterized by wide and open, sweeping movements.
A jin method, on the other hand, was a method for circulating qi and blood—a deeper level of control. Only a martial practitioner who had broken through a gate and possessed a certain volume of qi and blood could employ it. It was a way to command the qi, blood, and jin throughout one's entire body, harnessing them for one's own use.
Once mastered, every single punch and kick would carry far greater might.
Empowered by the qi-and-blood jin method, attacks delivered with Ape Fist would grow considerably stronger, quite like internal arts utilizing internal energy in wuxia tales.
Form methods in martial arts were an entirely different concept: explosive techniques that infused qi and blood into weapons or limbs to unleash them in surging bursts.
For instance, specific maneuvers like the Mysterious Ice Finger or Cloud-Parting Palm.
Liang Qu took the booklet Hu Qi handed him and flipped through it quickly. The booklet on the Bow Jin Method was very thin, spanning only five or six pages. Having spent so many days learning to read, he encountered virtually no obstacles as he read through it.
Before long, Liang Qu committed its contents to memory and tried urging his qi and blood according to the booklet's instructions.
As his qi and blood circulated, a strange sensation truly arose within his body after a short while. It felt completely different from the sensation of skin tempering merging into him; the qi and blood flowed ceaselessly, like a surging wellspring of vigor.
A quarter of an hour passed, and the qi and blood coursing between his meridians grew increasingly smooth and practiced.
Liang Qu felt as though this Bow Jin Method had been tailored specifically for him. His blood surged, and his momentum sprang forth from his jin.
He moved, using the jin method to drive his fighting method. His qi surged, his intent stirred, and his jin discharged. The wind of his fists whistled in one continuous, seamless flow.
Every punch and every kick surged in power!
So this was how a martial practitioner truly fought!
In the blink of an eye, Liang Qu seemed like an entirely different person, imposing and awe-inspiring, as if a divine ape had descended upon the world. He whipped his arms wide, his arms serving as bowstrings and the tips of his fists as arrows, fierce and explosive.
Right as he was exuding utter dominance, Hu Qi smoothly thrust the short rod in his hand forward like striking a snake's seven-inch vital spot, tapping Liang Qu on the chest.
His overall rhythm broken, Liang Qu's jin instantly vanished, and a third of the qi and blood within him seemingly evaporated into thin air.
He stood there despondently, like a demon struck back into its original form by a rod, forcefully knocked out of that invigorated state.
"Again!" Hu Qi said in a deep voice. "Only when your jin flows without break or interruption can you be considered to have achieved initial mastery!"
What mattered most in a jin method was maintaining rhythm. A beginner might seem adept at using it, but in reality, they could not pull it off in actual combat at all.
Trading just a couple of moves with an opponent would cause them to lose their breath and tire out completely. During regular practice, someone had to constantly "disrupt" them, drilling the circulation of qi and strength into instinct so their jin wouldn't falter.
This approach shared the same principle as training the fighting method.
In other words, Hu Qi was training Liang Qu's fighting method and jin method at the same time.
To learn how to strike, one first had to take a beating. This wasn't some foolish pain tolerance drill, but a matter of discovering how to avoid injury amid blows and finding one's own rhythm.
Each time the flow of his jin was interrupted, a substantial amount of the qi and blood in Liang Qu's body dispersed. After only three or four times, his qi and blood were completely drained, becoming water without a source.
Liang Qu panted heavily as exhaustion gradually overtook his body. Yet Hu Qi gave him no respite at all. Tossing aside the short rod in his hand, he assumed a stance.
"Keep going. Even if you can't practice the jin method, there's still the fighting method. You've learned how to use the forms, so now you have to apply them. Come on, attack me."
Liang Qu drew a deep breath, braced his spirits, and charged toward Hu Qi.
"Too clumsy! Don't expose your chest, and mind your distance from the enemy!"
"Every strike and weapon is an extension. Picture yourself as a circle and find your center. Picture me as a circle and find my center. The punch you throw is a circle, and my rod strike is also a circle. In every fight, there are countless circles."
"You have to maintain your own center while disrupting mine!"
"Wrong, still wrong! Your opening is too glaring; you haven't even pinpointed your own center. Again!"
"Again!" "Get up, keep going!"
The martial hall's apprentices had long since left, either retiring to sleep or heading home.
On the vast training ground, only Hu Qi and Liang Qu remained.
Liang Qu collapsed again and again, each time struggling back to his feet, panting for breath.
Night fell, and all fell silent.
Stripped to the waist, Liang Qu drew a heavy bucket of water from the well in the rear courtyard and dumped it over his head.
"Hoo!"
Liang Qu let out a long breath. Dense white steam wafted up from his body, echoing faintly against the moonlight.
Beneath his exhausted body lay deeply gratifying gains. He could feel his own progress; the fighting method he grew steadily more proficient in was utterly intoxicating.
Senior Brother Hu possessed abundant experience, and his theoretical instruction was learned directly from Master Yang, making teaching him an effortless matter. Liang Qu had gained immensely, acquiring a crystal-clear understanding of what combat truly was. Unfortunately, his practice could not yet keep pace with theory.
He still had a long way to go.
"Junior Brother, it's ready!" Hu Qi called out, stepping out of the room. "As soon as you finish soaking in the medicinal bath, get straight to sleep. We'll continue first thing tomorrow morning."
"Yes."
"All right, if there's nothing else, I'm heading back. I'll be in the east wing."
"Wait, Senior Brother, there actually is one thing."
"Speak," Hu Qi said concisely.
"When I fought the mountain ghost, a question crossed my mind. Why does our skin look no different from an ordinary person's, feeling quite soft and smooth to the touch, yet in reality it can withstand blade strikes? To possess such defense, shouldn't it be as thick and coarse as oxhide?"
Hu Qi laughed. "If that were truly the case, wouldn't practicing martial arts turn a person into something neither human nor ghost? How hideous would it be to walk around wrapped in a thick hide? That book, Reflections on Cultivating Nature and Life—have you not read it carefully yet, Junior Brother?"
Liang Qu flushed with embarrassment. "To be honest, Senior Brother, indeed I haven't."
"I figured as much. Breaking through the skin gate leaves no abnormalities on the body, yet the skin becomes like oxhide—tough and unyielding, with defenses vastly increased. Describing the skin as being 'like oxhide' is actually just a metaphor.
"Reflections on Cultivating Nature and Life clearly states that the essence of a martial practitioner growing stronger lies in the boundary between the 'self' and the 'other'—or rather, the demarcation between 'inner' and 'outer.'"
What on earth?
Liang Qu looked completely bewildered. He understood every single word, but how did they make no sense once strung together?
"Simply put, breaking through the skin gate truly increases your skin's strength, but beyond that, there is also the unseen enhancement of your own 'foundation.'"
"Foundation?"
"Everything external is the external foundation, and everything within oneself is the internal foundation. The two ought to interact, evolving into endless possibilities. But the path of a martial practitioner is to strengthen one's own foundation. The stronger one's internal foundation, the weaker the external foundation becomes relative to it. Ultimately, one transcends, beyond the touch of all creation."
Liang Qu considered his comprehension decent enough, and he vaguely grasped the crucial point.
"So a martial practitioner's attack works the other way around? Using one's internal foundation to influence the external foundation?"
"Junior Brother, you truly are sharp," Hu Qi praised. "The martial path is inherently a journey of transcendence—to do as I will, and to resist what I wish to resist. The stronger you are, the greater your interference with and resistance against the outside world, to the point where even the river of time cannot touch you, reaching a state of immortality, leading to great freedom and boundless creation."
Liang Qu was thoroughly shaken.
Could the martial path in this world actually be even more formidable than immortal cultivation?!
Damn.
Here he was thinking his blood control was something incredible, when in truth it was just a mob-clearing skill!
Looked at this way, if he sent water into someone's body, wasn't there a chance he might lose control over it as well?
Chapter 73