Guess

“Remember this,” upon hearing such an explanation, Zhang Ling felt somewhat confused. This way of speaking was much like the usual lofty lectures from his teachers, but to Zhang Ling, it was more a source of longing. Pointing at the setting sun, he declared, brimming with confidence, “One day, I too will reach the realm of Grandmaster.”

Zhang Ling thought such a declaration was childish, yet for some reason, he could not help but say it aloud.

“A fine dream indeed. I hope you always keep it in your heart,” Zong Chentian replied with a gentle smile, a glint of light flickering in his eyes.

Zhang Ling did not quite understand, unsure whether Zong Chentian was praising him or mocking him. He paid it no mind, replying with assurance, “Of course. I opened my upper dantian in just seven days. With such talent, conquering the martial path should be no trouble at all.”

“Don’t be too arrogant,” Zong Chentian chided. “You managed to open your dantian so quickly only because your training followed the most suitable method. If you had relied on your own efforts, who knows how many years it would have taken.”

Zhang Ling fell silent for a moment. Zong Chentian thought he had discouraged the boy and was about to speak, but Zhang Ling straightened up and said solemnly, “Uncle Zong, I know you don’t want to tell me about my parents, but I’ve deduced some things from what you said a few days ago. You mentioned the capital, so I suspect he is from there, and not of ordinary status. You also said it would be very dangerous for me to go anywhere, which means he must have offended someone significant—perhaps several powerful people, am I right?”

“You’re very clever,” Zong Chentian said, a look of admiration in his eyes. He suddenly stood and gazed into the distance. “But if you wish to go, wait until you’ve opened all your meridians and can leave Luochuan Commandery. With your current skills, even a mountain bandit could knock you flat.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Zong Chentian added, “Zhang Jingqian is back.”

“My brother is back?” Zhang Ling was overjoyed at the mention of the name.

In Zhang Ling’s memory, Zhang Jingqian had been adopted by his parents before Zhang Ling was born, making him Zhang Ling’s foster brother. Compared to Zong Chentian, Zhang Jingqian was his polar opposite—gentle by nature, always wearing an approachable smile. As a child, he cared for Zhang Ling, bought him treats, took him out to play, so their relationship was very close. However, Zhang Jingqian was often away from Luochuan Commandery, trading medicinal herbs, so they rarely saw each other.

Zhang Ling immediately jumped up, yearning to leap straight down from the western mountains. He restrained himself, for he had yet to master the lightness skill that allowed one to tread on the wind, and so he dashed down the mountain at full speed.

At the Zong estate, a young man in elegant attire sat at a stone bench in the courtyard, leaning on the stone table, exuding an extraordinary bearing.

Suddenly, with a crash, Zhang Ling burst through the door, ran straight to the young man, and shouted breathlessly, “Brother!”

The young man was indeed Zhang Jingqian. He turned his head and smiled at Zhang Ling. “Little Ling, it’s been a long time.”

Before Zhang Ling could say more, Zhang Jingqian asked, “I heard from Uncle Zong that you’ve been training in martial arts?”

Zhang Ling nodded. “Yes.”

“You want to travel the world? That won’t do,” Zhang Jingqian said, standing up, towering over Zhang Ling as he explained. “To train in martial arts, you must have a reason—be it fame, profit, the pursuit of justice, or simply the desire to become a master. Even if your goal is distant and uncertain, at least you won’t lose your way wandering aimlessly. Clearly, traveling for its own sake is not a good enough reason.”

Frowning in concern, Zhang Jingqian continued, “Little Ling, if you just want to see the world, your brother can take you with him someday.”

For some reason, Zhang Ling always felt at ease when Zhang Jingqian spoke, yet he shook his head. “Brother, I want to walk my own path.”

Zhang Jingqian nodded, smiling as he patted Zhang Ling on the shoulder. “Very well, since you wish to practice martial arts, I won’t stop you. In fact, while I’m here, I’ll teach you myself.”

Zhang Ling’s face lit up. “Brother, you know martial arts too?”

Zhang Jingqian nodded modestly. “I’ve made some small progress. The only issue is I haven’t decided what to teach you yet, as you don’t have inner force. There’s not much you can learn for now, but I’ll teach you in time.”

Delighted, Zhang Ling walked out of the Zong estate side by side with his brother. They found a tavern, shared a few drinks, and chatted happily, almost forgetting the passage of time.

From then on, Zhang Jingqian replaced Zong Chentian as Zhang Ling’s martial arts teacher, to Zhang Ling’s great relief—he no longer had to face that “coffin face.”

Like Zong Chentian, Zhang Jingqian used his inner force to create pressure, putting Zhang Ling through various exercises to help him open his dantian.

Three months later, Zhang Ling had opened his middle and lower dantian. Judging by the pressure Zhang Jingqian exerted, the time he could sustain it, and the fact that he never showed fatigue despite expending so much inner force, Zhang Jingqian’s internal strength was in no way inferior to Zong Chentian’s. Zhang Ling concluded they must be of the same level, although apart from these two, he had never met anyone else proficient in martial arts.

Curious, he asked his brother, “Brother, what realm are you and Uncle Zong in?”

“We’re both at the Profound Entry Realm,” Zhang Jingqian replied, shrugging at Zhang Ling’s disappointed expression. “What’s wrong? Are you disappointed?”

Zhang Ling sighed. “I thought you’d be at the Grandmaster level, the Origin Returning Realm!”

“You really think Grandmasters grow on trees?” Zhang Jingqian comforted him. “Among the tens of millions in the Central Plains, only a handful ever attain the Origin Returning Realm.”

Undeterred, Zhang Ling replied with confidence, “Grade One is already rare and impressive, but I still want to give it a try.”

Seeing Zhang Ling’s confidence, Zhang Jingqian did not discourage him as Zong Chentian had, but instead patted his shoulder in encouragement. “Since you’re so determined, let’s officially start your martial arts training!”

Zhang Ling’s spirits soared. He jumped up in excitement. “I can finally learn real martial arts! Brother, what will you teach me?”

“You’ve never used weapons, and swordsmanship and blade techniques require inner force to be truly effective. You’re not ready for those,” Zhang Jingqian explained. “So, I’ll teach you some hand techniques first.

“It’s called Soft Twine of the Fingers.”

Soft Twine of the Fingers—as the name suggests, it refers to the fingers being so supple they can intertwine.

What is it to forge steel a hundred times, only to turn it into soft twine around the fingers?

Zhang Jingqian explained, “Soft Twine of the Fingers was originally a sword technique from Mount Qingcheng, using profound inner force to bend the blade, making it as soft and flexible as a ribbon, unpredictable and ever-changing, impossible to defend against.

“But what I’m about to teach you is not swordsmanship. It's a hand technique I created, inspired by that sword style.”

As he spoke, he asked Zhang Ling to throw a punch at him. Zhang Ling gathered all his strength and struck out at Zhang Jingqian.