Had Chen Ping'an been alone, even burdened and trekking through the mountains, covering a hundred li of rugged terrain in a single day would have posed no great challenge. After all, this journey entailed fording streams, crossing ravines, scaling cliffs, and clinging to rocky ledges. Yet this time, accompanied by the young girl in the crimson cotton jacket, he proceeded with an unusual ease. With leisure at hand, he began practicing his stance walking. Since Li Baoping accompanied him, he refrained from exerting full force and intense focus in his boxing form, adopting instead a more natural, relaxed approach. To accommodate Li Baoping, he deliberately slowed his pace and shortened his steps, which, just as he was beginning to grasp the essence of the technique, made him feel as if he had been thrust back to square one, awkward and unsettled.
By now, they had traveled nearly twenty li. Li Baoping remained energetic, showing no sign of fatigue, while the young girl merely wiped the sweat from her brow and asked, "Young Master Uncle, are you practicing boxing?"
Chen Ping'an halted his stance walking and nodded. "Yes, I am."
She inquired again, "Do you know where the foundation of this boxing style lies—the origin of the Qi's residence?"
Chen Ping'an was perplexed. "What do you mean? I only know that the human body has many acupoints. I memorized hundreds of their names just to keep track. But how they relate to boxing, I've never had the chance to ask. A certain Miss Ning glanced over my boxing manual but did not explain, only saying that mastering boxing is no shortcut; it must be painstakingly endured bit by bit. You know Sister Ruan, who practices swordsmanship. Her family's secret method of channeling Qi is not to be revealed casually, so I never delved into it with her."
In truth, back then, the straw-sandal youth believed his life would be spent quietly in this small town, giving him plenty of time to question Ruan Xiu.
Li Baoping's eyes widened in astonishment, her tone grave: "Young Master Uncle! You don't even know that much, and yet you dare practice boxing? Do you realize that reckless boxing, especially the external styles, can easily damage one's foundational vitality? Martial arts training is akin to a geomancer's quest to find dragon veins and energy spots in the land. But instead of mountains and rivers, martial artists seek the hidden treasures within their own bodies. Once discovered, one must employ the correct method—only then does one truly ascend the martial path. No, no, Young Master Uncle, I must clarify this for you. Only when you understand this clearly can you truly learn boxing!"
Seeing her resolute expression, Chen Ping'an considered it and thought it was no harm. Nearby stood a crooked old willow tree, leaning over the stream like an unfinished archway. He guided Li Baoping to rest against its trunk. The lively girl insisted on sitting, so he carefully lifted her onto the branch, standing nearby to prevent a fall.
Settling confidently on the tree, she looked every bit the young instructor teaching her first class, eyes bright. Clearing her throat, she prepared to lecture the young master, determined to prevent him from going astray. If he truly harmed his body, she would be heartbroken.
Li Baoping spoke seriously, "I know a bit about martial arts because my family has a maid named Zhu Lu. Since childhood, the ancestor recognized her innate talent for martial arts. I'm close to her, and Zhu Lu is a quiet type who only shares her true thoughts with me. So I know what martial arts entail. Unfortunately, when I was six, I secretly followed Zhu Lu practicing the 'Earth Bull Stance.' It was great fun—the tallest wooden stakes nearly as high as a roof. But once, I slipped and fell. Although I wasn't hurt, Zhu Lu was severely punished by the ancestor because of me. Since then, whenever Zhu Lu practiced or soaked medicinal herbs in the house, she wouldn't bring me along anymore."
Chen Ping'an felt a pang of guilt. The Zhu Lu she mentioned must be the agile young woman who had knocked two tiles off his chest and head that day when he sneaked into the Li family mansion and broke two bird-feeding porcelain jars with his slingshot. That maid, guarding the young girl on Zhengyang Mountain, had first discovered him, swiftly scaled the roof, and leapt toward him. Thinking of her still impressed him with her prowess.
Li Baoping, eager to spill everything to her young master who stubbornly refused to acknowledge himself as such, continued: "Let me give you a metaphor. Take the timid Shichun Jia's family. If their shop does well, they can make money multiply and enjoy prosperity. That's why their shop is one of the oldest established brands in our town. But if they only spend without attracting customers, soon the business will falter, and the shop must close, right?"
At mention of business and profit, the money-minded Chen Ping'an immediately "clicked," realizing, "Everyone has their capital. If boxing is practiced well, it can multiply wealth; poorly practiced, it's a losing venture. If one never practices at all, they just stick to their ancestral trade."
Li Baoping nodded thoughtfully, "More or less. Young Master Uncle, have you heard the saying 'boxing invites evil spirits'? Especially those external styles claiming to master the art in three years, boasting of fighting prowess that can kill on the spot. Their fierce, sweeping moves, loud grunts and yells—those actually harm the body most because they never locate the vital Qi gateways, entering without method. Many fall ill by middle age, with uncertain or tragic ends. From day one, they don't nurture Qi or health—they squander their inheritance."
In the words of the Li family ancestor, Li Baoping was naturally without shame. The young girl, growing animated, rose to stand on the willow branch but was shot a sharp glance from her young master and reluctantly sat back down, continuing: "So you must take heed, Young Master Uncle. You must find the true method of boxing. There are countless styles, and their success varies. The difference lies in locating at least two core acupoints of the style. Once found, the next step is to discover the optimal path connecting these points, nourishing the Qi like spring rain nurturing all life. Even if the boxing manual isn't of the highest rank, as long as it's orthodox, it can strengthen the body and prolong life. But if you stray, the better the manual, the more harm it causes."
Chen Ping'an fell into deep thought. He could feel the Qi within him like a restless little fire dragon, aimlessly roaming a vast furnace. Earlier, this dragon was like a headless fly, blindly flying into walls before turning around. Now its range expanded but it always returned near the Qi reservoirs in his abdomen, lingering like a weary child yearning to return home—though it had yet to find the true doorstep. This mysterious Qi caused no pain or discomfort, only a comforting warmth like basking in winter sunlight. Chen Ping'an's sensitivity to his internal organs had been keen since childhood, so he quickly detected when something was wrong. When Cai Jin Jian of Yunxia Mountain had once predicted his life would be short, she probably thought the humble youth would take it lightly; but Chen Ping'an immediately believed her. Since he felt no ill effects, he let the Qi flow as it pleased, inwardly curious to see which acupoint it would finally claim as home.
Li Baoping swung her legs, arms crossed, and said, "It's said that martial arts root in 'scattering Qi,' a ruthless process unlike the nurturing Qi cultivation of practitioners. The latter seek abundance, scrupulously guarding every bit of Qi. Martial artists, however, must conquer a series of passes, eradicating the Qi originally residing in the acupoint reservoirs and transforming it into the primordial breath. Finally, with a single intention, the entire Qi flows smoothly, circulating hundreds of li in an instant. At the ninth realm, it may reach a thousand li, mobilizing the body's full potential like a general commanding vast armies. Its might rivals even the most skilled Qi cultivators who command the winds to soar."
Li Baoping then whispered mysteriously, "Zhu Lu said those martial masters who can scale walls and roofs are nothing. Some can travel with the wind like Qi cultivators. And once they reach the pinnacle, they can slaughter haughty Qi cultivators as easily as snapping a chicken's neck—killing with a flick or pinch, effortlessly."
Chen Ping'an laughed, "If martial arts were truly that formidable, that would be wonderful. But why judge their prowess by how easily they kill?"
Li Baoping blinked, honestly shook her head, "I never thought about that. Zhu Lu said it with longing, like I dream every day of catching a fish."
The young girl pondered, then added, "But thinking carefully, according to Zhu Lu, martial artists and cultivators are naturally at odds. The latter disdain the former, seeing martial arts as a lowly trade for those lacking talent to cultivate, calling them pitiful inferiors—lowlifes serving worldly regimes. Martial artists, in turn, see cultivators as arrogant and snobbish, not to be trusted. They ask why martial artists endure hardship in the world, accused of stirring chaos with their swords. Those cultivators are but a small group, yet they occupy countless sacred mountains and blessed lands, proudly claiming to be immortals who cultivate longevity through magic and sorcery, revered and supported by ordinary people and martial artists alike. They consider this their natural right."
Li Baoping laughed, "But you don't need to care about these disputes, Young Master Uncle—they're utterly pointless."
She then hesitated, as if recalling something difficult to confess, but resolved to be honest with her young master, whom she did not wish to deceive. She frowned apologetically, "Zhu Lu and