Chapter Thirty-Six: Ancient Boxing for Health

Although there was no formal apprenticeship ceremony, and nothing changed in the way people addressed each other, over the next few days, the looks the apprentices at the martial arts hall used to give—contemptuous, annoyed, indifferent—shifted to awe, apprehension, and even a trace of admiration.

No matter what anyone said, after all, another disciple from the Five Elephants Hall had been defeated by a pupil of the Burning Body Hall. If our hall weren’t so low-key, this would have caused an uproar throughout all the martial circles of Yuezhou!

Though Senior Kou was fierce and ruthless, he had every reason to be so, with a natural air of dominance. Besides, Kou Li was not lacking in appearance—his hawk-like eyes were sharp, his demeanor cool and distant, naturally attracting followers.

“Is Senior Kou not coming today?” Shrimphead asked nervously. By age, he was no longer young to be learning martial arts. His peer Jiang Shuiyuan had already mastered the Foundation Nourishing Stance, while he himself still couldn’t generate any force. At this rate, in two or three months he’d be abandoned for good. His last hope now lay with Senior Kou.

“Don’t think so much about it; if you can’t stand properly, you can’t stand properly. It’s just personal talent. There’s a time for everything. If you ask me, you’d do better to go home and fish; at least you’d earn more silver,” Jiang Shuiyuan said, unable to resist pouring cold water on him.

“But our Eighth Senior Brother didn’t start learning martial arts as a child either,” Shrimphead replied earnestly.

“He ate immortal herbs, though.”

“Even our youngest junior, just starting out, is better than you.”

Jiang Shuiyuan was at a loss for words. “I can’t be bothered with you.”

One was a freak, the other a genius—how could one compare?

Kou Li gazed at Zheng Bao’er, who lay fast asleep, frowning. He drew out the string of amber prayer beads from inside her little jacket. He had a premonition that Bao’er’s unconsciousness was related to these beads, just as the Wordless Diagram was related to himself.

He’d tried using his “Micro-Perception” to examine the beads but had gained nothing; this time, too, was a shot in the dark.

The sound of rushing water rose again. Ever since perfecting the Child’s Stance, as long as he focused his mind, he could sense the strange phenomena within his body.

The brook flowed gently, though its source and end were unseen. In the haze, white currents gathered above, forming a vast cloud that seemed to cover the sky. Was it his imagination, or was the stream broader than before?

Yet it was clear the water flowed much more slowly, with the water level two inches lower. The riverbed of flesh and organs was exposed, marked by a few cracks—unmistakable signs that his body was seriously injured.

Not from a single match, but accumulated damage from days of constant fighting. The “Micro-Perception” was not omnipotent, nor was the Tenfold Jade Paste. This kind of exhaustion of flesh, muscle, and bone could only be healed with time.

But he was not here to examine his own condition. Extending his spirit, he soon sensed another stream, though it was ten times fainter, shrouded in mist—this was the scene within Zheng Bao’er’s body.

This ability, too, Kou Li had discovered by chance. It couldn’t be maintained for long. As he concentrated, the mist grew clearer, but the spiritual pressure mounted, as if he were holding up heavier and heavier iron stones.

At last he reached the edge of the mist. Gritting his teeth, Kou Li compressed his consciousness to its limit; the pain, like a red-hot iron brand, was almost more than he could bear.

Then—boom.

A soundless explosion. Kou Li finally broke into the core of Zheng Bao’er’s being. As before, nothing unusual appeared; even pushing himself to the limit, he found nothing. Just as he was about to withdraw, a surge of warmth flooded his spirit, soothing the pain.

At some point, a golden dot appeared above the stream, growing larger and larger until it filled his vision.

It was a giant swastika.

A vast golden radiance filled Kou Li’s entire consciousness—tremendous, surging, like a boundless ocean.

Yet it was also suffused with a sense of goodness, the benevolence of all living things.

At the same moment, under Kou Li’s feet, another identical symbol appeared, though reversed—卐.

The two enormous characters spun in opposite directions, with Zheng Bao’er’s small figure locked at their center.

Just as Kou Li tried to see more clearly, that gentle force pushed him out, sending him instantly back to his own body.

The expected pain did not come; on the contrary, his mind felt unexpectedly refreshed.

He could not read the meaning of the symbols, yet somehow their significance—“past” and “future”—became clear to him.

“Between past and future—that’s the present. So it is the prayer beads causing this,” Kou Li murmured.

What he did not know was that, according to legend, these two symbols were inscribed on the chest of the Tathagata as auspicious marks, their light dazzling with myriad colors.

Looking again at the prayer beads, the swastika flickered as though illuminated, then faded after a moment.

Now that he knew Zheng Bao’er was affected by the beads rather than a physical injury, Kou Li finally relaxed. He touched his neck unconsciously, where an ice bead hung. Once as large as a longan, it was now only the size of his pinky.

It was thanks to this ice bead that he could wield the freezing technique and condense ice blood, deceiving everyone.

Yet he feared such means could not be used many more times.

After he left, Zheng Bao’er’s eyelids fluttered, as though about to open.

...

“Eighth Brother, wait a moment.”

As Luo Yanzong spoke, his hands rested on the massive steel ball the size of a water tank. With each touch and release, the ball vibrated, humming. His stance was grounded, toes gripping lightly, with small at-rest steps and large swinging ones. Each step thudded as if walking through mud, and the ball’s hum grew louder as it began to rotate.

Meanwhile, Luo Yanzong’s posture seemed even more relaxed—shoulders dropping to the waist, waist to the hips, hips to the knees—like an old man strolling at leisure.

Only, the thousand-pound iron ball beside him turning with each step made it a terrifying sight.

At last, Senior Brother completed twenty-four steps. With a breath in and out, he spat a line of white vapor onto the ball, arms rotating inward. With a set-up, a lift, and a release—just a prelude—he hefted the tank-sized iron ball into the air.

It seemed he hadn’t used his full strength either. Only as the ball reached overhead did the force angle away, and the ball crashed downward at a speed that would have shattered skulls had it struck true.

Kou Li tensed, but before he could warn him, Luo Yanzong seemed to anticipate the danger. He spread and lifted his hands, flipping like a hawk. Using this turning movement, the ball rolled from his back to his foot, where a tap with his toe set it quietly on the ground.

Lifting enormous weight as though it were light—this was the ultimate mastery. Kou Li also noticed his senior’s back was flushed red, likely from forcing blood and energy there to withstand the mass.

Even the mighty who lifted cauldrons of legend would not have done so with such ease.

“Senior, aren’t you still in the midst of the Hundred-Day Bone Renewal? You can still practice martial arts?” Kou Li asked, struck by a thought.

“That’s why I used my back muscles to draw my entire body’s blood and energy, transferring the force from the steel ball,” Luo Yanzong indicated his foot, where a half-inch-deep footprint glistened with sweat.

“Luckily, the first stage of body forging is refining the flesh; and with flesh comes sinew, from which power is generated. Otherwise, moving like this would be impossible,” Luo Yanzong said cheerfully.

“What were you just doing, Senior?” Kou Li asked curiously.

“Testing whether I could combine the Monument-Smiting Hand with the Twenty-Four Joint Whip into a single coordinated style—like the Tiger-Leopard or Bear-Bird combinations at Five Elephants Hall. But it still lacks a certain flavor; those are, after all, ancient boxing arts.”

Luo Yanzong wiped his hands and ordered tea. Once seated, the two brothers began their formal exchange, for this was a matter of passing on knowledge.

“Senior, what exactly are the ancient boxing arts?” Ever since Kou Li learned that Tiger Fist might be completed through his own efforts, he paid close attention; according to the Five Elephants Hall, Tiger Fist was itself an ancient boxing art.

“To talk about ancient boxing arts, you have to distinguish between fighting methods, boxing techniques, and boxing arts. Literally, fighting methods are means of killing or competing, including combinations of techniques, weapons, military strategies, even hidden weapons—anything that can defeat an enemy is a method.

“But fighting methods have a flaw: they kill, but do not nurture. So boxing techniques based on Daoist texts and alchemy were developed, like your Tiger Fist. Still, you must recognize that while boxing techniques can nurture, their effect is limited; they can cultivate the body, but not transform it. So mastering such techniques can never reach the highest realms.

“...A true boxing art possesses a complete regimen: fixed stances, dynamic stances, and breathing methods, integrating body and technique so that every movement expresses power—even when applying other techniques. This is a true boxing art: the body gestates the seed of martial power.

“So, Tiger Fist is missing part of its regimen?”

“Exactly. It lacks half the dynamic stances and all the breathing methods. The Pouncing Tiger, which serves as the general outline for Tiger Fist’s seventeen forms, is actually a hybrid your Senior Yue created by mixing fixed and dynamic stances.”

Seeing Kou Li’s astonishment, Luo Yanzong couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t look down on your Second Senior—he may seem rough, but his talent for martial arts is second to none. If not for certain regrets and this incomplete form, his accomplishments would have been greater.”

“So he too wanted to complete the form. But what’s the difference between a boxing art and an ancient boxing art?”

“This is something I heard from a senior in the martial world, and I can’t vouch for its truth. He said that modern boxing arts are all based on alchemical principles; they can nurture and forge the body, but lack a certain spirit—a spirit that is the transformation of heaven and earth itself. Only ancient boxing arts possess this transformative quality.”

“The transformation of heaven and earth?”

“That’s where my knowledge ends. Even if I knew more, I couldn’t explain it. Perhaps only when you, Junior, have the chance to complete Tiger Fist, will you truly understand.”

Kou Li nodded. This transformation of heaven and earth was likely the link between martial and immortal arts, perhaps even closely tied to the Martial Gate of Immortals.

“Enough of these lofty matters. The greatest advantage of ancient boxing is that it nurtures and forges the body—not ordinary cultivation, but extreme cultivation, strengthening a specific organ or part to the utmost limit.

“Since you’ve faced people from Five Elephants Hall, you should understand how formidable such cultivation can be.”