Cheating

Zhang Ling looked at the little boy and asked timidly, "There isn’t just one chance, is there?"

The boy replied, "No, you can play as many rounds as you want. You just have to win one."

Zhang Ling thought for a moment, then asked, "If I can’t win, I won’t be stuck here forever, will I?"

"As if! You have six hours. If you can’t win, you’ll never get another chance to enter," the boy said, resetting the pieces. "Alright, let’s continue."

As he placed a stone, Zhang Ling asked curiously, "If I pass this trial, what will I get?"

The boy looked at him and said, "You’ve lost again."

Glancing at the board, Zhang Ling saw he had lost so quickly. But now, knowing there was no real danger, he felt more at ease. Nevertheless, he lost ten games in a row, never lasting more than half an hour in any.

At last, Zhang Ling started to feel anxious. He thought to himself, every trial brings a reward, whatever it may be—I must succeed.

He paused, contemplating deeply, and then a sly smile flashed across his face. He picked up a stone and placed it directly on the center point.

"Are you sure?" The boy couldn’t help but remind him, even though there’s no taking back a move.

In Go, the usual wisdom is to start at the corner, then the sides. Placing the first stone at the center is courting disaster; anyone who knows the game wouldn’t do it, unless a master facing a much weaker opponent. Clearly, Zhang Ling was no such master.

Zhang Ling nodded, and the boy began to play, still cautious and steady. Zhang Ling continued, his second move also at a diagonal to the center. The boy was even more puzzled but responded as usual.

When the fifth black stone was down, forming a diagonal line, Zhang Ling grinned mischievously, "I’ve won."

The boy was momentarily stunned. "The game isn’t over—how can you say you’ve won?"

"Five in a row," Zhang Ling explained.

The boy glanced at the board and saw the five stones lined up. "That doesn’t count! We’re playing Go, not Gomoku. You cheated!"

"You never said it had to be Go," Zhang Ling argued.

The boy, with an innocent look, was at a loss for words. After a while, he pouted, "Fine, you win!"

Zhang Ling stood and put his hands behind his back. "Since I’ve won, send me out."

Unexpectedly, the boy sitting on the ground burst into tears. Zhang Ling was at a loss—was this really necessary?

He hadn’t dealt with children before, so he tried to insist, but the boy mumbled, "No, I don’t agree. Even if you win, you’re not getting through."

Zhang Ling was annoyed. "You can’t break your word!"

The boy turned away with a huff.

When firmness didn’t work, Zhang Ling softened, squatting down to comfort the boy. After much coaxing, the boy finally said, "Play hide and seek with me. If you catch me, I’ll let you go."

Seeing hope, Zhang Ling agreed immediately, "Alright, but no tricks this time."

The boy grinned, then darted away with surprising agility for his age. Zhang Ling lunged, but the boy dodged every time. With time running short, Zhang Ling grew serious, clearing his mind and activating his Shadow Step, but even then, he couldn’t catch the boy right away. Soon, though, the boy began to tire, his pace faltering. Zhang Ling dashed forward and seized the boy’s collar.

Once caught, the boy stopped struggling, donned a solemn expression and sighed, "Well, maybe next time."

Zhang Ling didn’t understand what he meant, but before he could ask what reward he’d receive for passing the trial, his vision blurred. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his own room.

As he sat up, he sensed something unusual inside his body—a warm current of energy flowed to his palms. It was unmistakably true energy. Suddenly, a voice arose within, a feeling of deep familiarity. Zhang Ling used his mental strength to halt the true energy in his meridians, and once the energy stabilized, he withdrew his spirit.

If he were to channel this true energy into a hand acupoint, he would break through immediately. But he refrained. Meridians could only store so much energy, but the six acupoints could hold much more. Each acupoint would only open once, and once the true energy was poured in, he’d have to wait for the next acupoint to store more. Each breakthrough required even more energy than the last, and thus, one would possess even greater internal power.

Most people couldn’t stop their true energy from entering the acupoints—once the energy accumulated, it would rush in. But Zhang Ling, having cultivated his spirit, could block the energy and wait to store even more before breaking through. This meant that, compared to others of the same rank, his internal strength would be more robust.

The difference between the six acupoints was merely a measure of internal power—it didn’t mean higher rank equaled greater strength. As Zong Chentian had told him, those with weak internal power were certainly weak, but those with great reserves were definitely masters. In a fight, greater internal power was a decisive advantage, making it especially important.

Accumulating a large reserve of internal power gave him a slight edge at the same rank, though it also meant a harder cultivation path. But that was Zhang Ling’s choice.

Leaving his room, Zhang Ling sought out Zong Chentian, greeting him with a broad smile.

"Uncle Zong."

As Zong Chentian turned around, Zhang Ling instantly focused his spirit on his eyes. The two locked gazes, but Zong Chentian simply looked back.

Zhang Ling waved his hand and scratched his head. "It didn’t work?"

Zong Chentian’s expression was serious. "Secret technique? Who taught you that?"

"Oh, I met someone before. He taught me," Zhang Ling replied. "But why didn’t it work?"

Zong Chentian snorted. "It’s a fine technique, but it doesn’t work on me. For anyone below first rank, though, it would stun them for a moment."

In martial contests, victory could be decided in an instant. Zhang Ling was satisfied with such a result.

"Why doesn’t it work on those above the Profound Entry Realm?" Zhang Ling asked.

"Entering the Profound means understanding oneself, comprehending the essence of the Dao, and strengthening one’s will. That’s why it doesn’t work on those above that realm," Zong Chentian explained.

"I see," Zhang Ling smiled again. "By the way, Uncle Zong, I’ve cultivated internal power."

Zong Chentian was shocked. That Zhang Ling had mastered a secret technique was already surprising, but to have cultivated internal power so quickly was even more so.

He straightened and said, "Use your internal power and punch me."

Zhang Ling hesitated, then gathered a thread of energy into his right fist and struck at Zong Chentian’s chest without hesitation. But just as he was about to make contact, he was bounced back.

Zong Chentian looked at him with a teasing smile. "Your internal power is too weak. If you want to hurt me, you’ll have to reach the Profound Entry Realm."

Zhang Ling hung his head. Though he had cultivated internal power, he was still far from the level of a true master.