Rainy days persisted long after the first, signaling a shift in the weather for the worse. It wasn't entirely unexpected, considering it was autumn, and seasonal changes were a norm even here. Yet, despite the downpour, so constants remained, like the old goat's unwavering gaze as I attempted to read.
Didn't this tea addict have anything better to occupy his ti?
He knew I was aware of his gaze, and there was a good chance he did it solely to provoke a reaction from .
Kids should be enjoying life and acting stupid. What's got you so stuck up? he remarked, bringing a steaming cup of tea from the second floor before settling opposite my desk.
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply and entering a ditative state. Every muscle, every subtle twitch, I felt it all. This state of heightened self-awareness allowed to perceive every nuance within my body.
With the rainy storm affording so free ti, it seed like an opportunity to explore the developnt of a thod to discern my own statistics without undergoing rigorous testing. It would be akin to crafting a martial technique. A mortal-grade technique allows one to gauge their own physical condition. However, I would require sothing akin to Qi to manifest the illusion or numbers before my eyes.
Na: Liu Feng
Age: 16
Talent: C (fifty-three spirit root branches)
Cultivation: Body Tempering (eight-star)
Strength 8.1 8.2
Agility 8.2
Endurance 8.6 8.9
Qi 0
Techniques:
-Piercing Fang Fist (Mortal Grade)
-Rushing Bull Step (Mortal Grade)
-Turtle Shell Body (Mortal Grade)
I had progressed surprisingly fast, though my endurance continued to outpace other aspects by a widening margin with each passing day.
"Hey! You listening to , brat?" the old man sighed, but I did not entertain him, prompting him to shake his head, with disappointnt etched across his face. "I swear, youngsters these days. Eyes in the books and heads in the clouds. Did you know that back in my day..."
He scratched his chin, fingers threading through his goat-like beard as if contemplating sothing before blurting out, "You know what, we didnt do things much differently in my days either. The brave ones who faced the world head-on rarely survived and usually t a grueso end."
"You're talking to yourself, old man. I thought soone your age would catch the social cue that when soone is not responding to you while reading a book, they don't want to talk right now," I retorted.
"You had your eyes closed. You werent reading shit."
"I was ditating and trying to rest my eyes."
"Yeah, too much reading and it'll ruin your eyes."
I had a retort ready, but a sudden thought gave pause. "Do cultivators even need glasses? I an, our eyes are enhanced the more we advance."
Even the old guy seed taken aback. "Huh, you're right. I know so cultivators who wear glasses despite their advanced cultivation levels. Maybe it's just for aesthetics, or perhaps they've worn them since their mortal days. Personally, I think they're just weirdos."
As he made that last remark, the old janitor glanced toward the librarian, who wore glasses. The poor guy was catching stray shots without even saying anything.
"Don't act like I'm not here! Also, you're the weird ones. One mont you're at each other's throats, the next you're all friendly," the librarian sighed. "Why do you act so grumpy for no reason?"
"It's the rain. Haven't seen the sun in a while," the old man offered as his excuse.
For soone of his age, he possessed a remarkable way with words. Yet, surviving in a sect where people were maid and killed for minor transgressions mandated a knack for diplomacy as a ans of survival. It was almost regrettable that he used his talents primarily to wriggle out of responsibilities.
I rather enjoyed our verbal sparring matches. I needed soone to engage in such banter with, though attempting it with anyone else risked sparking great offense and potentially triggering a blood feud that could end up with my cultivation shattered at best.
"It's all dark and gloomy, and even I'm grumpy sotis," the old man remarked while sipping his tea.
"Sotis?" I arched a skeptical brow, a small twitch betraying my attempt to suppress a smile. "We'd have a tougher ti figuring out when you aren't grumpy."
"Your eyes are on the books, but your mind is in the clouds... or down in shit."
We exchanged verbal jabs a while longer before I closed the book in my hands and rose to my feet. The old goat shrugged. "Do you always have to train even on days like this?"
"Well, I might end up in a fight, and it could be raining. The last thing I'd want is to slip while using the Rushing Bull Step and et my demise because of it."
The old guy appeared unimpressed. But he was never impressed, so that wasn't saying much, "We both know that's a lie. You just enjoy frolicking about in the mud like a child with too much power."
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Damn, he knew all too well.
This old codger was remarkably perceptive when he chose to be, and it was easy to overlook his ability to read people like an open book. From what I had seen, he likely wasn't so secret elder, but he wasn't entirely harmless either. Sheep had their own ways of surviving.
He was the sort who could access the library's second floor simply because everyone perceived him as harmless. If this old codger decided to steal sothing from the library, I doubted anyone would intervene, especially not the librarian, who was practically his best friend.
He was living the life I dread of, with access to everything simply because nobody cared.
I packed up my belongings, leaving my backpack with notebooks and supplies behind so they wouldn't get wet. Before I left, the old man called out, "Try training Piercing Fang Fist. It might help in the rain. Don't get too lost in your own world, and rember that these martial arts were developed for more than just your enjoynt."
His tone was serious, which was unlike his usual self. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my gut as he continued, "These martial arts are the legacy of those who devoted their lives to them. Many sacrificed family and personal pursuits for their craft. These techniques are all they left behind."
His words struck a chord within . He was right; these martial arts were often the culmination of years of dedication, perhaps even lifetis.
Sure, it was disappointing that they were only mortal-grade techniques. Yet, these individuals poured their hearts and souls into sothing they believed in.
"Also, it's unsettling to see you grinning like a fool when you think nobody is looking at you. I know you like martial arts, but please, stop embarrassing . I'd rather not have people think I know soone like that," the old janitor ruthlessly sliced through my contemplation as if it were nothing.
"Then stop looking at so much, old man!" I retorted as I strode out into the rain, receiving a nod from the librarian as he stowed my belongings under his counter. It was our silent agreent that he would look after my things.
As my clothes soaked through with rainwater, I pondered whether my decision not to carry an umbrella stemd from a desire to feel the barrier around the library dry my clothes. Carrying an umbrella would be cumberso, and I'd still get wet during training. Besides, with a cultivator's body, the risk of falling ill from water exposure was negligible. So, an umbrella was unnecessary.
But life wasn't always governed by logic and reason. What made life truly fulfilling were often the smaller, intangible monts that accumulated over ti.
Just because soone's spouse had shown love at one point didn't guarantee a happy marriage.
In my previous life, I was never married. Yet, in this life, there was sothing I lacked in my past existencesothing Liu Feng possessed: a fiance. They had last t as children, and Liu Feng hadn't necessarily found her pretty back then. However, he respected her, coming from a well-off cultivation family.
Amidst pondering these peculiarities, I arrived at the training ground as usual, casting a side glance at where the buried spirit stones were ant to be. I hadn't even touched the accursed things or used them for anything aningful. They proved more troubleso than beneficial, even causing to question my best friend... whose na I had yet to learn. This charade was becoming tireso; I resolved to shadow the chubby guy one of these days and learn his na.
Drawing in a deep breath, I savored the sensation of damp air against my skin and raindrops tracing down my face. Everything felt remarkably clear.
Piercing Fang Fist!
My hands moved almost instinctively.
How many tis had I executed the sa punch, in the sa way? Thousands? Tens of thousands of tis? Perhaps even more? Considering Liu Feng's relentless practice of Piercing Fang Fist, this body might have thrown the punch millions of tis.
The motion was fluid and direct, executed with a grace seldom witnessed in reality. Though it was my own hand in motion, I couldn't help but admire its precision. My heart quickened its pace, akin to recalling a woman I loved.
Okay, that analogy was a bit weird, comparing martial arts to won. I didn't even want to touch that thought with a ten-foot pole.
Yet, I couldn't describe the sensation any other way. Excitent bubbled within my chest, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
The air around my arm twisted, as it always did. I had always felt the air move around my arm, but now, with the rainwater, I could actually see the way the air took shape, forming a spiral of water around my limb.
In an instant, the mont passed, and everything returned to normal. The spiraling water fell to the ground, and I returned to my senses. The entire motion of throwing a punch had lasted less than a second, yet it felt much longer than that.
Was I growing delirious? Perhaps the cold rain was affecting after all. I had executed this punch countless tis, so why was I so lost in thought now?
Usually, training felt like a ga to . But now, it was as if I were painting a beautiful canvasI was creating art!
Being able to see sothing instead of just feeling it was groundbreaking! So martial arts beca visible only after soone awakened their Qi.
Once again, I pulled my fist back and executed the martial technique. The water started to twist around my arm, rging with the wind. At the peak of my knuckle, a fang-like protrusion of water burst forth and shot forward.
I halted, hypnotically gazing at the water. "So that's why the technique is called the Piercing Fang Fist."
I tried it again, this ti in a barrage of punches, which ford water fangs around my arm. Though they dispersed a mont later and proved useful only for displaying the air movents. Still, I attempted to craft a more impressive water fang. Though it didn't enhance the technique significantlyit simply looked impressive.
As I continued for so ti, I lost track of the passing minutes, the dark rainy clouds obscuring any sense of ti. Only when a distant leaf rustled under the wind pressure, did I cease throwing punches.
I tried again, ensuring it wasn't rely my eyes playing tricks on . Sohow, the pressure from my fists was sufficient to send a gust that caused leaves to rustle about two feet away. There was no ntion of such a phenonon in the Piercing Fang Fist technique manual. Moreover, the technique wasn't so closely guarded secret; it was practiced widely by Liu Clan cultivators as their introductory technique. It wasn't rare enough to be absent from the Blazing Sun Sect library either.
This ant that I had stumbled upon a new application of the technique!
Granted, it could only produce a soft breeze at most, weaker than an electric fan, but it was still fascinating!
Caught in my excitent, I began throwing punches, causing the surrounding leaves to flutter.
"Just when the fire nation attacked, the...." I halted mid-joke, a realization dawning upon .
Sohow, I had begun using the Piercing Fang Fist more efficiently. Despite executing nurous punches, I felt no fatigue or soreness.
Piercing Fang Fist wasn't typically stamina-intensive or prone to causing injuries with overuse. It was a basic technique, but that didn't imply one could use it endlessly without tiring.
I was tempted to test its effectiveness when combined with the Rushing Bull Step. Small improvents in technique could prove more potent when combined.
However, such considerations ceased when another realization struck . The old guy had been the one to suggest that I train Piercing Fang Fist in the rain.
Was it all rely a coincidence? How could he have known that training in the rain would enhance the technique's efficacy?
"Just when I thought there was no chance the old man was secretly a formidable cultivator," I muttered under my breath.
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