Despite his unease, Su Jie never stopped studying.
Ever since he had mastered external hard-style martial arts, the intensity of his training had doubled, yet he no longer felt tired.
He still hadn't moved on to practicing other techniques—just relentlessly repeated the move known as the "Hoe Strike." He had trained it to the point where its extension and contraction were dragon-like, its rise and fall stirred wind and clouds. It howled like a tiger descending a mountain, cried like a crane soaring across the skies, slithered like a snake through the grass, squatted like a bear uprooting trees, leapt like a monkey scaling cliffs, and called like a rooster announcing dawn across the world.
He had pushed this single move’s form to the peak of perfection.
Now, his focus had shifted to cultivating his intent and mind.
Aside from physical training each day, he placed greater emphasis on his cultural and intellectual developnt.
At school, during his spare ti, Su Jie practiced calligraphy in the calligraphy and painting room.
He attended one of the top high schools in the nation—well-staffed and well-equipped. The school boasted not only gyms, computer labs, music rooms, and rooms for calligraphy, painting, and chess (both Go and Chinese chess), but even a swimming pool.
At the calligraphy table, Su Jie wielded his brush like a dragon in flight, producing a neat and orderly script.
“The Way has no root and no stem, no leaves and no bloom, yet all things are born of it, and all things are completed through it.”
This line ca from Guanzi: Chapter on Inner Work.
This passage explored cultivation of the mind, health, and breath training.
After writing this, he added two large characters: "Rootless."
Then, he copied down a verse:
"A rootless tree, its blossoms faint—
Who’d truly quit this lust for fa?
Life adrift, a boat on pain—
Tossed by waves, no freedom gained.
No shore, no port, no rope to bind,
Swimming in peril, beasts entwined.
Should you turn back—look ahead!
Lest storm and tide sink what you tread." (G: I enjoyed that)
The author of this poem was Zhang Sanfeng!
Last ti, Uncle Mang had urged him to read more of the writings of sages like Wang Chongyang and Zhang Sanfeng, to find guidance in ntal cultivation. Su Jie had been gathering materials ever since, carefully reading and digesting them. However, his foundation was still shallow, and he hadn’t made much progress.
But after staying for a month at Master Ma’s rural estate and consulting him on many matters, his knowledge had begun to deepen. Now, he was starting to grasp these ancient cultivation texts on a much more aningful level.
Zhang Sanfeng, the legendary Daoist, had been mythologized—rumored to be the founder of Taijiquan. He's been portrayed in countless TV dramas, movies, novels, and even recorded in The History of the Ming Dynasty. Whether those tales are true or not didn’t concern Su Jie. What mattered was extracting the essence of the ancients’ thinking.
A thousand years of cultural heritage—regardless of how these people were buried by the dust of history, their ideas could transcend ti and engage in dialogue with modern minds.
Each ti he read the works of these sages, Su Jie felt that although ancient people lacked advanced technology, so true sages had a level of inner cultivation that modern people could hardly reach. Precisely because they lived in a world of material scarcity—devoid of today’s flashy distractions—they were able to focus inward and uncover deeper truths for self-cultivation.
Of course, Su Jie didn’t believe that modern science and technology were bad or that the ancients were always right. But when it ca to personal developnt and inner cultivation, the ancients definitely had the edge—an edge worth learning from.
When it ca to physical training, modern technology offered undeniable advantages.
Drawing from both traditions was the path chosen by many modern masters.
People like the “God Maker” Odell, Uncle Mang, and Master Ma.
All of them were highly educated—not those so-called “masters” of the back-alley, fringe variety.
Old Chen, on the other hand, didn’t have much formal education. His Taijiquan had been passed down through generations. Yet he only taught the physical techniques—never embellishing or exaggerating them. That, in itself, spoke volus about his character.
As Su Jie continued writing the Rootless Verse with his brush, he felt a radiant clarity settle into his spirit. All stray thoughts and ntal clutter seed to flow out through the tip of his brush.
Every stroke, every hook, every horizontal or vertical line was a form of ntal refinent, a forging of spirit—and also a kind of martial training.
Suddenly, Su Jie realized how profoundly similar calligraphy was to martial arts. The strokes of the brush followed the flow of intention throughout the body, then spilled forth from the tip with graceful power. This not only trained his essence, energy, and spirit—it was a full-body workout.
The brush was a weapon. The brushstrokes, combat techniques.
With deep enough mastery, every line and curve carried its own spirit.
Master Ma had judged that his ntal state had already reached the peak of the second level of the Great Corpse State—"Seems dead but not truly dead"—a state akin to neither thought nor no-thought. When still, Su Jie couldn’t even tell whether he had thoughts or not.
Very few people in the world are able to cultivate their practice to this level.
But Su Jie knew that without a breakthrough, his martial arts would stagnate here.
To reach the third level of ntal state—"Living Dead
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