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墨書 Inktalez
Wang Chao couldn't tell whether Lin Xudong was scared off by his punch or if Lin Xudong had simply decided to leave him alone. As the saying goes, when one is well-fed, they think of lust. Many young women from the Seven Great Families, who had nothing to do in the Imperial Capital Military District, began seeking out Wang Chao. This made it difficult for him to stay in his house, and aside from returning home three times a day for meals prepared by Wu Wan'er, he spent all his time training on the back mountain.
Flipping through the notes written by Zhang in his youth, Wang Chao could clearly see that these were indeed the writings from Zhang's practice sessions. The handwriting was scattered and some parts were even quite blurry. It was evident that they had not been carefully organized. However, as Wang Chao read through them attentively, he discovered a clear thread running through these casual notes: the development and formation of the Breathing Technique.
It appeared that this was a martial art created by Zhang himself. The first page seemed to record Zhang's initial feelings upon encountering this technique. To Wang Chao, it resembled more of a mental method for cultivating inner strength rather than a martial skill. He felt a surge of joy; he needed a manual like this. The last manual Zhang had given him was clearly an external martial arts manual—though it was good, it paled in comparison to this one.
The primary function of this mental method was to cultivate inner strength and unlock the body's maximum potential. It was akin to what Zhang had previously said: the human body is like a container, and power is confined within it. The larger your container, the greater your power can be. If your power exceeds the capacity of your container, it will collapse, causing all the power within to dissipate and leaving you powerless.
Wang Chao had been on the brink of such a collapse before; fortunately, Zhang's pills had suppressed his power. Otherwise, he would have remained on the edge of becoming a monster until he ultimately exploded. Zhang's notes represented the process of cultivating one's container. If there ever came a day when Wang Chao's container could hold an ocean, he would truly have mastered his cultivation.
Following the instructions in the notes, Wang Chao closed his eyes and focused on sensing the flow of energy within him. Unfortunately, after several days of trying, he still couldn't perceive this energy, which left him feeling anxious. Was he doing something wrong? Staring at the handwriting in the notebook, he found himself at a loss for where to begin. It was no wonder; without someone to guide him through just these notes alone, it was indeed challenging.
One day, as Wang Chao arrived at the back mountain, he saw Zhang Fusheng sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed—clearly practicing the Breathing Technique. Observing Zhang Fusheng's demeanor made Wang Chao wonder how their progress could differ so greatly. He mimicked Zhang Fusheng's posture and sat beside him, continuing to focus on sensing that elusive energy.
Before long, Zhang Fusheng spoke up: "Everything has its origin; internally there is energy and externally there is form. Internally soft and externally hard—only by balancing hardness and softness can one achieve victory in every battle. You see, this inner strength is like petting a cat; you must feel along with the flow of energy. Your main issue is that your sensitivity is too weak. You need to sense nature and the subtle changes within your body; grasping these changes is where Breathing Technique begins—like eating fish; you must savor it slowly to avoid getting pricked by bones."
As Wang Chao listened to Zhang Fusheng's teachings and tried to feel the changes in his inner strength, he grew increasingly frustrated and finally opened his eyes. "Zhang Fusheng," he said, "how did you come up with this theory? It's half classical Chinese and half modern language—first it's about cats and then about fish."
Zhang Fusheng shrugged and replied, "When I first practiced this technique, I struggled to find its essence. My grandfather told me this way; I'm just passing on his words!"
Wang Chao shook his head helplessly and remarked, "Zhang Lao truly has an artistic flair."
"Give it a try," Zhang Fusheng encouraged him.
At this moment, Wang Chao was not joking; he sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes tightly closed. Following Zhang Fusheng's advice, he emptied his mind of distractions and felt the subtle changes between heaven and earth, as if he were stroking a cat's fur or eating a fish full of tiny spines. There was no room for impatience; he focused solely on the mountains, the water, the world around him, and his own body. Although Zhang's theories seemed somewhat unconventional, Wang Chao followed them and was astonished to discover the elusive secret he had been searching for all along.
With each breath, Wang Chao felt as if he had merged with the back mountain. The details of the flowers, grasses, and trees on the mountain, the feathers of sparrows still chirping on the branches in winter, all vibrated with each inhalation and exhalation. It truly felt as if he were drawing the universe into himself while expelling it outward. At that moment, Wang Chao sensed a current of energy gathering in his dantian, igniting throughout his body in a specific sequence.
This was the Breathing Technique—drawing the essence of heaven and earth into his body while releasing its essence outward. It was indeed a supreme secret capable of refining one's Container. Wang Chao felt waves of warmth coursing through him; although intermittent, they were distinctly perceptible. After circulating through one cycle, a void suddenly appeared before his closed eyes—darkness boundless and infinite.
Zhang Fusheng's voice emerged: "Depending on a practitioner's innate talent, different visions will appear in their minds after completing one cycle. However, they generally encompass vast realms of understanding. For example, when my grandfather practiced, he saw an ocean before him; as for me, after one cycle, I saw an expansive sky. Thus, I am also known as a Martial Arts Genius."
Zhang Fusheng was not being boastful; in this world, few could rival him. Old Master Zhang was indeed a Martial Arts Genius rarely seen in a millennium. Moreover, Zhang Fusheng had gathered various talents into one. Yet Wang Chao found himself staring into a void that resembled a black hole capable of absorbing everything—different from ordinary darkness.
"What do you see?" Zhang Fusheng asked.
Wang Chao shrugged and replied, "Has anyone ever seen a darkness so dense and boundless?"
Zhang Fusheng furrowed his brow and said, "The Breathing Technique was learned by my grandfather from a master. To this day, I estimate that fewer than ten people have studied it; I only know four or five personally—like my grandfather, Wu Grandpa, and Grandpa Huangfu. There are also some from the Seven Great Families; I won't list them all for you. However, among those I know, no one has ever seen such darkness."
"Ordinary people would consider seeing rivers or lakes to be indicative of higher talent, but I don't know what it means to see darkness," Zhang Fusheng said.
Wang Chao nodded thoughtfully.
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