Chapter Twenty-Four: Intensive Training
“Alright, is there anything else you need to pack? If not, let’s leave now. This is Brother Liang’s territory; it’s best not to disturb him any further,” Hu San asked again.
“No, there’s nothing left. Just some trinkets in the camp; the other brothers can have them.” Seizing the opportunity, Zhou Zhu was eager to leave without delay, fearing any unexpected complications.
“Brother Liang, if you have time in the future, you’re welcome to visit Group Nine,” Hu San nodded, giving Liang Chuan a slight bow.
“Of course, of course.” Liang Chuan returned the gesture and called to his men, “Leopard, pour out half of our green fruits and present them to Third Brother for a taste. Second, you personally escort Third Brother back to Group Nine. If anything goes wrong on the way, I won’t let you off.”
Hu San knew this was Liang Chuan’s way of forging a relationship, so he accepted without protest.
Soon, Leopard came from the camp with half a sack of green fruits. Together with Second and Zhou Zhu, they followed Hu San to the headquarters of Group Nine of the Second Division.
Only the newcomers, toiling at the edge of the forest, remained behind, watching with envy as the bookish Zhou Zhu soared to new heights, leaving them awestruck.
From then on, Zhou Zhu took up residence in Group Nine. Hu San spoke with Zhao Feng and brought Zhou Zhu into the fold, making it official.
Whenever training was over, Hu San would seek Zhou Zhu’s guidance in reading and writing. Zhou Zhu, grateful to his benefactor, spared no effort in teaching him.
Hu San, though not a genius, was quick-witted and diligent. The allure of the secret manual and ample free time fueled his rapid progress, and his studies advanced by leaps and bounds.
Seeing Hu San’s dedication, several influential members of Group Nine—his close friend Lin Hu, and his formidable subordinates Tan Yue, Xiang Bao, and Lei Ming—began to learn from Zhou Zhu as well.
Zhou Zhu welcomed all comers, though in truth, he had no authority to refuse. Yet, he observed that only Hu San truly studied with sincerity; Lin Hu did so out of habit, following his brother’s lead, while the others merely wished to curry favor with Hu San, learning in a lackadaisical manner. Still, none remained illiterate.
Three months passed. Hu San had mastered all Zhou Zhu’s knowledge, even identifying the seven or eight most vital acupoints on the human body. With nothing more to teach, Zhou Zhu’s lessons ended.
The others, progressing slowly, continued their studies at Hu San’s insistence, determined to persevere.
On a perilous peak near the training camp, Hu San reclined with the secret manual split in two, his expression troubled.
By now, his literacy was decent; he could read ordinary texts without issue. Yet, as before, he found the manual inscrutable. He knew the meaning of each character, but when strung together as in the book, the sense eluded him entirely.
He had once blamed his lack of education, but now saw clearly that this was not the case. Internal cultivation manuals were unlike common books, filled with mysteries only initiates could comprehend.
He had expected as much, but experiencing it firsthand left him deeply frustrated.
A treasure mountain lies before him, but he cannot find the gate—such is his predicament.
Hu San did not know that internal cultivation manuals were family secrets, vital to each sect. Not only were outsiders unable to decipher them, even those who could would not dare to practice without guidance, for hidden within were subtle traps. A single misstep could break one’s meridians—an agonizing fate.
This was why neither Zhang Longbow nor the bandit Zhong could cultivate from the manual; without an expert’s guidance, the manual was a double-edged sword, as likely to kill its owner as any foe.
But where could Hu San find a mentor? The stronghold had only one martial master, the Third Chief. Was he to seek guidance from him?
If this were discovered, Hu San’s youth would make even survival a luxury, let alone the chance to study martial arts. Dream on.
The world of martial arts was treacherous and unpredictable. Hu San knew well that until he had sufficient power, revealing his possession of the manual would mean certain death.
Such knowledge could not be shared even with his closest companions, much less the cunning Third Chief.
But if things continued as they were, he could not understand the manual. It was as if he were reading the heavens, and it vexed him greatly.
Three months passed; the harsh winter gave way to early spring. His strength had grown, now equal to four men, but progress had slowed further.
Not only did the same food yield only a fifth of the warmth it once did, but the strengthening effect was halved. The sense of daily improvement vanished completely.
He estimated that, barring a major change, reaching the strength of five men would take a year or two—an intolerable prospect for one so desperate for power.
Thus, his longing for the secret manual only intensified.
“In times like these, to obtain a martial manual and learn to read is already fortune beyond measure. To seek knowledge of meridians and acupoints, or fully comprehend the manual, is surely an impossible dream.”
“Life is but a brief century; how can one always play it safe? If one never strives, never takes risks, how can one achieve greatness? So why not take a chance?”
He gritted his teeth, resolved, and opened the manual again, fixing his gaze on the diagrams on each page.
After three months of study, his understanding had grown immensely. He now recognized the illustrations as depictions of the human meridians and acupoints, routes for the flow of internal energy.
Combining this with his partial understanding of the text, Hu San began to practice the circulation of internal energy according to the diagrams.
Here, one might ask: Hu San has never experienced internal energy, has no breathing techniques or stances—how can he generate internal energy? Without it, what is he cultivating?
As it happened, after every meal, Hu San’s body produced a faint warmth. He had always suspected this might be a form of internal energy, and now, after his studies, he was almost certain.
From what he knew, internal energy was not inherently mysterious; it was the essence extracted from food, refined through harmony of mind and body, a form of energy born of the cycle of nature.
Although he lacked the proper method for generating internal energy, he was born able to extract it from food, creating warmth—a form of internal energy.
Different techniques produced different qualities of internal energy. Hu San’s warmth was of a unique nature, though its origins were unclear. It could not remain in the body long, soon absorbed by his flesh.
The internal cultivation he now sought to practice was called the Greenwood Classic. The name was grand, but the method simple: ten chapters, each corresponding to a meridian.
Once all ten meridians were open, and internal force flowed, one reached the first level—a third-rate expert in the martial world.
When internal energy could be projected outward, plucking leaves or flowers to harm foes, that was the second level—a second-rate expert, capable of ruling a region.
When energy condensed into steel, walking on snow without a trace, crossing rivers without aid, that was the third level—a first-rate master, fit to be king or patriarch.
When steel energy reached its peak, one became an earthbound immortal—the fourth level, a supreme master, living up to a hundred and fifty years, legendary in the martial world.
Each level was divided into three sub-stages, except the fourth, which had only one. In total, ten stages—this was the hierarchy of martial strength.
Having witnessed the strange abilities of Cotton Candy, Hu San harbored dreams of immortals, and found these divisions somewhat lacking.
Yet, since he had not reached even the first stage, speculation was pointless.
Hu San closed his eyes, focused his mind, and tried to lock the warmth within his body, guiding it along the path of the first meridian.
Soon, one meridian was traversed. With no time to ponder, he guided the warmth along another route, repeating the process. White steam began to rise from his head, and he entered a state of clarity.
Time passed in a blink; before he realized it, a day had gone by. As night fell, the warmth was fully spent, and Hu San awoke from his trance.
At this moment, he felt a faint thread of warmth within his meridians, subtle yet constantly circulating. Yet, for reasons unknown, it seemed to falter as it passed each meridian.
“Could it be I’ve already mastered the first stage? Is it really so simple?”
Comparing his experience to the manual’s descriptions, Hu San’s mouth fell open in disbelief, not even pausing to marvel at his day-long meditation.
“No, mastering the first stage should mean internal energy flows unhindered, like a torrent. I’m far from that. So why is this happening?”
Perplexed, he had no answers. Unbeknownst to him, were martial artists to witness his progress, they would be utterly astounded.
Since records began, never had anyone traversed ten meridians in a single day, nor cultivated internal energy without guidance, merely by following diagrams.
Hu San had shattered many records in this world, though he remained unaware.
The sole reason was the mysterious warmth generated within his body. Without it, Hu San could have meditated for ten years and never produced internal energy.
Though the warmth now circulated intermittently and was extremely faint, difficult to sense, it was truly under Hu San’s control, no longer absorbed by his flesh over time. To him, it was like a treasure, and he delighted in experimenting with it.
Seeing the diminishing effect of the warmth on his body, Hu San began to dedicate half of each meal’s warmth to refining his flesh, and the other half to strengthening his internal energy.
Thus, Hu San muddled through the cultivation of the internal manual. By some miracle, not only did he survive, he actually succeeded in generating internal energy, which, supported by the warmth, grew steadily stronger.