Li Xiuwen's gaze went to the strange statue of the Nine Dragons Patriarch in the shrine: the gaping mouth, the pointed crown of the skull, the broad humped back.
He had found it strange before and assumed it was just later generations' artistic license—after all, the immortals and arhats in temples and monasteries were often carved with exaggerated, ferocious features.
Now it seemed there was something more behind it.
A thought struck him, and Li Xiuwen asked, "Does the Patriarch look this way from eating fish balls?"
Huang Sihai nodded. "Fish balls are the Sea Sand style's ancestral secret medicine. Other schools have similar fish balls too, but the fish balls and secret medicines of every school, whatever the school, are toxic."
"Master, forgive my asking—what are fish balls made of? I'm not trying to study the recipe; I just want a rough idea," Li Xiuwen said.
Huang Sihai waved a hand. "Go on out. In any case, fish balls can be taken—everyone got through it this way. In moderation, it's fine."
…
In the study, Huang Sihai lit three sticks of incense and bowed three times before the statue of the Nine Dragons Patriarch. His thoughts drifted back to his childhood, when he learned boxing in Sheng and his master told the old tale:
Five hundred years ago, in the Great Ying Dynasty, in the coastal lands of Wu Prefecture, an ancient school's inheritance, a thousand years old, came to light again. Masters gathered from all four directions and fought over it until sky and earth went dark. Amid the chaos, one man single-handedly churned the East Sea upside down, striking down so many masters of orthodox and renowned schools that their lines withered and were cut off for good.
History holds few records of this man; only scattered scraps of his reputation have been passed down.
Because fishermen once saw him beat a red giant whale, bigger than a dynasty official ship, to death with bare fists amid raging waves, he was called "Whale-Slayer Daoist."
"Patriarch above, forgive this junior's incompetence. I have concealed my name and barely preserved my life on a small island in the South Sea, not daring to enter Sheng."
"I only pray that one day I find an inheritor of heaven-endowed talent, who will go to Sheng, recover the Patriarch's inheritance, and strengthen our Whale-Slayer doctrinal lineage."
"The Sea Sand style—Huang Sihai—kowtows!"
…
That night, Li Xiuwen finished the Miscellany of the Martial Tomb and put it back in its place.
He looked at [Incense Burner]
[Li Xiuwen]
[Martial Skill]
[General Martial Knowledge: Entry (81%)]
[Sea Sand Stake: Entry (90%)]
[Flipping Sand Palm: Entry (80%)]
[Stage: Green Membrane (90%)]
Li Xiuwen found that raising General Martial Knowledge was far harder than raising fighting techniques or training methods. Its difficulty lay in having to take in and comprehend new knowledge at every moment—unlike fighting techniques and training methods, where mechanical, repetitive drilling was enough.
He closed the incense burner, looked over at Old Chen, who had gone to bed early, and asked, "Brother Chen, you know the many schools of the martial path well. Have you ever heard of the Mountain-Moving style?"
Old Chen set down his book and asked, puzzled, "Where did you hear about it?"
Li Xiuwen smiled. "I came across it by chance in an old book. No idea whether it's true or not."
Old Chen thought for a moment, poured himself a cup of tea, waved Li Xiuwen over, and said at his leisure, "The Mountain-Moving style... In Xianghai, this school is awfully obscure—very few know of it. Even in Sheng, where masters are as plentiful as clouds, hardly anyone has heard the name."
"Why?"
"Because the school is quite ancient, and very loose—an unorthodox sideline path... It first grew up among those 'earth immortals' and 'tomb raiders'—that is, men who robbed graves."
"No wonder it's called Mountain-Moving."
"There are plenty of tomb raiders in this world who claim to be inheritors of the Mountain-Moving style, but most are frauds seeking fame with fake skills... Those with real kung fu are few indeed."
Li Xiuwen thought it over and asked, "Have you heard of the Armor-Binding line? Is it part of the Mountain-Moving style?"
Old Chen nodded. "Yes. The Armor-Binding line is a major branch of the Mountain-Moving style, skilled in body-hardening training. Those people had real ability, and their name once rang far and wide."
Hearing this, Li Xiuwen quietly breathed a sigh of relief. "I never imagined this Armor-Binding Art had such impressive origins. Worth a try."
Huang Sihai had told his students in their very first lesson: when you go out into the world and chance upon a secret martial manual, unless your martial attainments are deep enough to judge its authenticity yourself and weigh its benefits and harms, you must never cultivate it blindly. If it should prove to be a demonic art of the living-harvest mutilation kind, then even if you taught yourself without a master and forced your way through the gate, it would ruin you and put you on a road of no return.
…
Chen's Noodle Factory.
Li Xiuwen got home.
"Aunt. Has Brother Ji been here?"
"No."
"Good."
Li Xiuwen took a quick bite of food, then hurried back to his room, burrowed under the quilt, and opened the thin golden booklet by the dim light.
"Brother Ji definitely never practiced this Armor-Binding Art. Otherwise, with hard qigong protecting his body, he wouldn't have died to my sneak attack."
Li Xiuwen immediately set to studying the secret manual, word by word, line by line.
The Armor-Binding Art is the foundational hard qigong method of the Mountain-Moving style, and the core of the Mountain-Moving style lies in just two characters: "carrying and moving."
As its eight-character general principle attests: "A mountain carried on the back, breath locking the rivers!"
"Binding armor" here does not mean putting on an actual suit of armor. It means taking one's own blood-and-breath energy as thread, sinew and bone as frame, and weaving the pores, skin membrane, and muscle of the whole body layer by layer, like a silkworm spinning its cocoon, until at last it forms an airtight "hard-breath armor."
When the art is exercised, dark markings surface on the skin. With the Green Membrane they are bronze-dark markings; with the Purple Membrane, purple-gold dark markings; with the Black Membrane, obsidian dark markings...
The Armor-Binding Art has four layers in all, and each demands a particular level of cultivation before it can be practiced—otherwise the foundation suffers and the effort backfires.
At entry, it can be practiced once one reaches the Skin and Membranes Gate, training a full-body sheath of dark markings to protect the body. At minor success, only the Flood Dragon Muscle Gate will do: the loose dark markings are woven into intricate structures, forming a cloth weave that guards the body like an iron garment. At major success, only the Tiger and Elephant Gate allows it: the dark markings are forged into hard-breath armor, impervious to blades and spears. And if one cultivates the Armor-Binding Art to perfection, it is like wearing a seamless, flawless dark armor—a thousand troops keep their distance, and within the Three Gates there is no rival!
Li Xiuwen's eyes slowly grew grave.
"A profound method pointing straight to the Tiger and Elephant Gate—one that can train through all Three Gates?"
"This could serve outright as the core secret art of an orthodox school. Unless the creator of this manual is just praising his own wares, I've picked up a priceless treasure."
When he finished reading the cultivation method, understanding dawned on Li Xiuwen's face: now he knew why Brother Ji had never practiced it.
"Training the Armor-Binding Art requires beating the body with an iron hammer—the 'strike-beating conditioning' of body-hardening training."
"For entry, a small four-liang hammer: strike-beating by day, and at night an externally applied 'Blood-Transforming' ointment simmered from a dozen-odd Chinese medicinal herbs, old ginger, brown sugar, and tiger bone powder among them..."
"For minor success, a large two-jin hammer—and beyond the strike-beating, medicinal baths made of higher-grade ingredients."
"For major success, strike-beating with a heavy ten-jin hammer, and the ingredients of the paired secret medicines are rarer still: century-old herbs from deep mountains and wild forests, next to impossible for an ordinary man to find."
"No wonder Brother Ji never practiced it. Without enough money behind it, this Armor-Binding Art would only hammer you to death."
Having finished with the martial arts manual, Li Xiuwen sank into thought.
"Right now I can barely sustain my Sea Sand Stake and Flipping Sand Palm cultivation—I could never support the Armor-Binding Art's long-term training."
"Still, apart from the tiger bone powder, the entry-level secret medicines aren't expensive. Tomorrow I'll go to the apothecary, pick some up, and see how they work."
"If my progress is decent, I can keep at it."
"If it proves too hard, then I'll put it off until I have money..."
Li Xiuwen tucked the thin golden booklet away against his body and sank into a deep sleep.
Chapter 21