Time flew like a white colt glimpsed through a crack in the wall; in the blink of an eye, seven days had passed.
Li Xiuwen worked mornings at the hair salon and trained at the Four Seas Martial Arts Hall every afternoon. His days could hardly have been fuller!
One day, after finishing stake practice, Li Xiuwen lay on the hall floor reading the Miscellany of the Martial Tomb and chatting with Old Chen.
"So that's how it is. Thanks for clearing that up, Brother Chen."
"Don't mention it. These past days of stake training—felt anything yet?"
"My strength has grown noticeably," Li Xiuwen said.
His arms were clearly a size bigger than seven days ago, and his membrane had taken on a faint, dull greenish sheen. He should be close to entry.
Only, all these changes were hidden beneath loose clothes, invisible to ordinary eyes.
"Looks like you're on the right track. That's good—there's hope of stepping into the Skin and Membranes Gate. Unlike me; no matter how I train, I can hardly improve." Old Chen sighed from inside his cage.
"Speaking of which, my Daoist friend—didn't you train in the martial arts in your younger years?" Li Xiuwen asked.
By Old Chen's age, qi and blood were in decline, draining away in a torrent; there was no longer any way to train it up.
It had nothing to do with talent or comprehension. It was an objective law that could not be defied.
That was why Huang Sihai said that to keep advancing along the martial path, one had to lock in the peak before the decline of qi and blood set in; only then could one keep improving in the years after.
The age when that decline begins varies from person to person, but broadly it falls somewhere between thirty and forty.
Past forty, if you still haven't locked in the peak, all you can do is watch helplessly as the years pile up, qi and blood wane, and your cultivation retreats instead of advancing—weaker the older you get.
"When young, we knew not how good the fist was; white-haired, we regret the martial arts came too late. Brother Li, however bitter and hard it gets, you must keep at it," Old Chen said, sounding like a man at the end of his rope.
"Mm."
...
Before he left the hall, Huang Sihai called Li Xiuwen over.
"Ah Wen, made entry yet?"
"Almost, Master."
"Pull up your shirt. Let me have a look."
For the first time in front of someone else, Li Xiuwen lifted his shirt.
His frame was still on the thin side, a far cry from Brother Ji's burly bulk.
But it was lean: muscles drawn in and evenly laid, strength lying coiled and waiting.
These seven days, he had felt his body changing a little every day, like a bamboo shoot in early spring.
"Almost indeed... Take this and eat it. It should spare you several days of hard work." Huang Sihai handed Li Xiuwen an oil-paper packet.
Li Xiuwen opened it. Inside was a white pill, giving off a strong fishy smell, like fishing bait. "What's this?"
"A fish ball. Not the kind ordinary people eat—you can think of it as an elixir. Without one of these to help, with an innate physique like yours, you'd have a hard time making a successful gate attempt."
"Thank you, Master." Li Xiuwen accepted it happily.
In truth, even without the fish ball, he was confident he could pass.
The incense burner couldn't directly boost his cultivation, but it had one advantage: no such thing as a "bottleneck." Breakthroughs succeeded one hundred percent of the time.
Only, without the fish ball, entry would probably still take him a while, with the innate physique he had.
"Consider it a newcomer's perk—first one's free. Want more after this, bring money: five hundred a ball." With that, Huang Sihai left.
Li Xiuwen carefully stowed the oil-paper packet, thinking: was this fish ball made of gold?
The thing probably weighed less than a tael. At today's gold prices, calling it made of gold would be doing gold a favor.
...
That night,
on the rooftop of Chen's Noodle Factory, Li Xiuwen trained deep into the night.
He took out the "fish ball" and ate it—and something marvelous happened.
This "fish ball" truly melted the moment it entered his mouth. Before he could taste anything, it turned into a strange warm current that poured into his acupoints and every limb and bone.
His eyes went wide, the whites crowded with red; the membranes all over his body swelled up, like a dead fish floating on the water, bloated to bursting.
"This fish ball packs a punch. No wonder Old Huang treasures the stuff."
He began cultivating at once, following the Sea Sand Stake's postures and breathing method.
In an instant, the acupoints and meridians he had sensed during stake practice began answering one another across his body like the stars of the celestial cycle.
The membranes and muscles of his body surged and ebbed like the tide under that special rhythm of breathing.
The many tricks and secrets of the Tidal Stake surfaced in his mind, one after another.
...
Time slipped by.
The east turned fish-belly white, and the first light, filtering through the laundry racks, scattered into broken flakes of gold.
Li Xiuwen stood before a puddle, studying his reflection.
He had grown taller and longer through the frame, chest broad, stomach flat and solid, legs clean-lined.
In the morning sun, a faint green sheen shimmered along both arms.
Nothing like Brother Ji's exaggerated muscles, yet he gave off a feeling of health and strength all the same.
Dressed, he still looked slim, and with his rather boyish face, on the surface he seemed no different from before.
He clenched his fist lightly, and tendons and bones rang out together, as if a bursting force gushed from his pores. One light punch, and the air hissed.
"This feeling of power... it's incredible."
He picked up a length of steel rebar lying about and, using only a little force, whipped it across his own arm.
"That barely hurts—like the spot's been numbed with a shot."
That layer of translucent green membrane had shed a large share of the force.
"Entry-level is this strong already? Feels like Brother Ji is nothing special after all."
Li Xiuwen pressed down the swell of pride in his chest.
He had only practiced the training method; he hadn't learned fighting techniques yet.
Add his lack of experience, and in a real fight he would most likely be no match for Brother Ji.
The man hadn't spent all those years brawling his way through the underworld for nothing.
He looked at the [Incense Burner].
[Li Xiuwen]
[General Martial Knowledge (Basic): entry (12%)]
[Sea Sand Stake: entry (1%)]
[Stage: Green Membrane (1%)]
"Green Membrane... grow out this layer of membrane, and I'm a trained fighter too."
"This fish ball's medicinal effect lasts forever—I can still feel medicinal power inside me that hasn't been used up. Keep training. I'm skipping the salon this morning."
Another hour of hard training passed, and the sky was fully bright.
Feeling the power in his body strengthen further, he looked at the [Incense Burner].
[Sea Sand Stake: entry (3%)]
[Stage: Green Membrane (3%)]
"So my progress in stake training decides the realm of my foundation—the two advance in step."
"Master said the Skin and Membranes has three great stages—Green Membrane, Purple Membrane, Black Membrane—and they match stake training's entry, minor success, and major success exactly."
"Once stake training reaches perfection, the membrane turns black with red showing through. That's the limit of the Skin and Membranes Gate—then I can attempt a gate a second time and climb even higher."
"As the membrane's color deepens, a practitioner's ability to absorb blows and his raw strength grow ever more monstrous, until he becomes a savage beast in human form."
"And this is only the Skin and Membranes Gate. There's still the Flood Dragon Muscle Gate and the Tiger and Elephant Gate... I can't imagine how good it'll feel to finish those."
"If you ate a fish ball every day, even a pig could probably finish the Skin and Membranes Gate in half a year, no?"
The thought that the rich might be training exactly this way filled Li Xiuwen with the urge to go make money.
Grrrowl—Li Xiuwen clenched his belly and patted his pocket. "Three hundred bucks left."
"I trained the whole night; I'm starving. Aunt probably isn't up yet... First I'll go to Granny's for some pig's blood soup to build myself back up."
...
In a run-down shack tucked into some out-of-the-way corner of Longjin Road stood a little shop.
One pot, one table, four broken stools, one white-haired old woman—crude, but the aroma wafted everywhere.
"Granny, one bowl of pig's blood soup."
Li Xiuwen sat down with the ease of an old regular and poured himself a cup of plain water to sip. This was his hidden gem of a shop.
He had often come here to eat after getting off work at night—three mao a bowl, and the soup could be refilled three times.
Chapter 10