Free Web NovelChapter 5: Chapter 5: Hidden Dragon
Fatty Fang finished speaking and immediately moved.
All the boys present stared with wide eyes, afraid to miss a single detail.
He locked his feet, straightened his knees, tucked his hips, and opened his shoulders.
Fatty Fang paused for a moment before bracing his elbows, curling his fingers, and setting his wrists. His entire body assumed the posture of a Hidden Dragon.
He held the posture for about three breaths before releasing it and returning to a relaxed stance.
"Spread out. Each of you, imitate the Hidden Dragon Posture I just demonstrated."
At Fatty Fang’s command, the boys scrambled to focus. They did their best to recall the demonstration, clumsily moving their hands and feet as they tried to reproduce the posture they had only briefly glimpsed.
"Get lost... Scram... Go home and eat dirt!"
Fatty Fang mercilessly shooed away the posers whose postures were awkward and completely lacked detail, like chasing off flies.
The number of boys in the field dwindled, and his tone finally softened a bit.
"You two are passable. One of you is about fifty percent similar in form, and the other managed to imitate a hint of its spirit... but you’re both still lacking. Go home. With your smarts, you can do better elsewhere."
The two couldn’t hide their disappointment, but they didn’t dare argue. They retreated, dejected.
Seeing those two leave, several other boys who knew they couldn’t measure up also slunk away.
Soon, only Chen Cheng remained.
"Ssss—"
Fatty Fang squinted, looking Chen Cheng up and down several times.
The impatience and disdain on his fair, round face vanished completely, replaced by surprise and admiration.
He clicked his tongue, a new warmth in his voice.
"Not bad! Not bad at all!"
"Seventy percent form, thirty percent spirit... You even grasped the details of several Key Points... Good, good, good! I’ve finally found someone with superior Comprehension... A fine seedling!"
As the saying goes, laymen watch for the spectacle, but experts see the technique.
Fatty Fang knew better than anyone: based solely on his ability to grasp the Divine Marrow and reproduce the form after a single glance, it was no exaggeration to call Chen Cheng a genius of Comprehension.
In all the years since the Lower Courtyard was established, there had been fewer than three boys from poor backgrounds with this level of Comprehension.
Unfortunately...
Chen Cheng’s Root Bone was too poor.
Low-grade. One might even say the lowest of the low.
His qi and blood were deficient, and his meridians were sluggish. He had clearly been worn down and burned out by years of suffering.
Even with such high Comprehension, it would be impossible for him to cultivate One Pillar of Blood Qi within six months.
"I can accept you, but once the Death Oath Contract is signed, there’s no turning back. You need to think this through very carefully."
Fatty Fang’s tone had softened considerably.
"Thank you for giving me time to consider."
Chen Cheng nodded and cupped his fists, his gratitude utterly sincere.
He knew full well that his Root Bone was far below standard. Without the Vertical Eye Mark as his trump card, signing the Death Oath Contract would be tantamount to suicide.
The man was telling him to think carefully, but it was really a kind warning not to destroy his own future on a momentary impulse.
"I’ll sign."
Chen Cheng didn’t hesitate for long.
In the end, it was because he had no other choice.
If he had any better option, who would willingly stake their life on a single contract?
"Come with me."
Fatty Fang said no more, turning to step over the pitch-black threshold.
Chen Cheng followed close behind, stepping into the Dragon Mountain Martial Arts Hall.
Just inside was a flat, solid courtyard paved with bluestone.
In the southwest corner stood a row of wooden training dummies, their surfaces worn to a glossy sheen from years of beatings.
Not far away was an assortment of Stone Locks and stone barbells of various sizes. The largest one was a dark, hulking mass that must have weighed at least three hundred pounds.
The hour was still early, yet there were already seven or eight boys training in the yard.
Their shabby, coarse clothes, and even the bluestone beneath their feet, were soaked with sweat.
This grueling, day-after-day training had also made their physiques far sturdier and more developed than those of ordinary boys from poor families.
Chen Cheng followed Fatty Fang across the courtyard and into the main building on the north side. Not one of the training boys so much as glanced their way, as if everything outside their own training was irrelevant.
’Excellent Root Bone, superior Heart Nature... They truly are all hand-picked, fine seedlings.’
"Can you read?"
From a desk drawer, Fatty Fang retrieved two prepared sheets of Contract Paper and pushed them in front of Chen Cheng.
"My father paid for me to study for two years. I can recognize some words."
Chen Cheng took the Contract Paper and read it carefully, character by character, before picking up the nearby brush and neatly signing his name.
Seeing Fatty Fang glance at the ink pad, Chen Cheng understood. He raised his hand and pressed a bright red thumbprint next to his name.
"All set."
Fatty Fang put one copy of the Contract Paper away and handed the other to Chen Cheng.
"Keep this safe. From this moment on, you are a Lower Courtyard Disciple of the Dragon Mountain Martial Arts Hall."
"The Hall’s rules are all written on the Death Oath Contract. But you must remember these next three points clearly."
"First, if you encounter trouble outside, you may state your identity as a Lower Courtyard Disciple of Dragon Mountain Hall for your own protection, but you must never actively cause trouble!"
"Second, Lower Courtyard Disciples are strictly forbidden from joining any gangs or factions!"
"Third, sparring within the courtyard must be limited to light contact. If you injure a fellow disciple to the point they can no longer train, the duration of your Death Oath Contract will be doubled!"
"Yes, this disciple will remember."
Chen Cheng nodded in solemn acknowledgment.
Fatty Fang nodded. "Also," he added.
"My name is Marquis Fang Wenhao. I am one of the Tutors here, as well as a disciple of the Dragon Mountain Hall Middle Courtyard. From now on, you can just call me Senior Brother Fang."
"Yes. Greetings, Senior Brother Fang."
Chen Cheng cupped his fists and bowed, his attitude deeply respectful.
"Follow me."
Fatty Fang said sternly.
"I will personally teach you the Breathing Technique and the mnemonic for the Key Points Transformation. I’ll help you perfect your Pile Skill, in both form and spirit, within seven days."
"Senior Brother Fang..."
Chen Cheng remained where he was, hesitating as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
[Hidden Dragon Pile Skill]: Entry Level (0/300)
’The Hidden Dragon Posture he’d just ’imitated’ was a deliberately poor performance. He could perfectly replicate it anytime he wished.’
’More importantly,’
’the Breathing Technique and all its subtle, hidden transformations—things that normally required a master’s instruction—had already been meticulously extracted and deciphered by the Vertical Eye Mark, as if unraveling a silk cocoon.’
’And then, all of it had been granted to him.’
’Because of this, Fatty Fang’s instruction was completely redundant to him.’
’Right now, something else was more important.’
"What is it?"
Fatty Fang squinted at him. Before Chen Cheng could answer, his stomach rumbled loudly, answering for him.
"You..."
Fatty Fang laughed in exasperation and shot him a glare, then pointed to a corner of the yard.
"The kitchen’s next to the well! I’ll give you ten minutes. Eat your fill and get back here! Don’t be late!"
"Thank you for your consideration, Senior Brother Fang!"
Chen Cheng’s eyes visibly brightened, but he controlled himself, gave a solemn, cupped-fist salute of thanks, and then hurried away.
Watching Chen Cheng’s steady gait and his back, held as straight as he could manage, Fatty Fang gave an almost imperceptible nod.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, the warm scent of grains washed over him.
A large pot on the stove still held plenty of brown rice congee. The quality wasn’t good; you could clearly see bits of husk still clinging to the broken grains. But the congee was thick—a luxury unobtainable for an ordinary poor person.
Chen Cheng ladled out a huge bowl of the congee and took a coarse-flour flatbread the size of a washbasin from a nearby steamer.
He sat down in a corner.
He took a large gulp of the congee. It was coarse and bland, but as the warm, thick slurry flowed into his body, he felt as if he were coming back to life.
The coarse-flour flatbread was tough. It took effort to tear off a piece, and he had to chew it thoroughly before he could swallow. The taste was just as bad, but it gave his stomach a feeling of satisfaction it had never known.
The massive bowl was soon empty, and he had eaten most of the flatbread.
Chen Cheng couldn’t help but think of his mother, who was likely still going hungry.
He glanced at the remaining flatbreads in the steamer, then quickly looked away.
’The price for this food was signing the Death Oath Contract. Sneaking food out of the Martial Arts Hall was, without a doubt, forbidden.’
He took a deep breath and used the last piece of flatbread to wipe his bowl clean, eating every last drop of congee.
Finally, he went to the water cistern, washed the bowl clean, and put it back in the kitchen.
Only then did he hurry back toward the stout figure in the courtyard.
「Afterward.」
Fatty Fang had Chen Cheng assume the Pile Skill posture, then personally corrected his mistakes.
Chen Cheng "learned" extremely quickly. Before long, his posture was flawless.
"Now, I will teach you the Breathing Technique."
Fatty Fang said slowly, looking at Chen Cheng, who was still holding the posture.
"Inhale as if drawing a silk thread—fine, long, and slow. Imagine your Hundred Gatherings point connecting to the light of the heavens, the pores of your entire body opening to receive it..."
"Exhale as if breathing out mist—deep, even, and thorough. Imagine your Dantian sinking into an earthly abyss, with the turbid qi expelling from the soles of your feet three feet into the ground."
He paused, then continued.
"These two phrases are easy to say, but achieving that state of mind is incredibly difficult..."
"Back when I started, it took me nearly half a month to even begin to grasp it..."
Before he could finish, Chen Cheng’s breathing pattern changed completely in an instant.
And that state of mind—’imagining the Hundred Gatherings connecting to the light of the heavens, imagining the Dantian sinking into an earthly abyss’—materialized naturally the moment his breathing changed!
As for the secret transformations of the Key Points, Chen Cheng didn’t even wait for Fatty Fang to teach him the mnemonic. He secretly began activating them himself.
With that, Chen Cheng’s Hidden Dragon Pile Skill entered a state of perfection.
Within that state of mind, he could clearly feel his feet taking root and his wrists bearing an immense weight. With his curled fingers, it felt as if he were seizing a True Dragon.
"Yes, that’s it... Hold it..."
Fatty Fang closed his eyes, listening intently to Chen Cheng’s breathing.
A long while later.
He found no hint of disorder or stagnation. It was so smooth and fluid, it was as if Chen Cheng had been breathing this way since the moment he was born.
[Hidden Dragon Pile Skill]: Entry Level (1/300)
