Chapter Two: The Red Ruffian Jests of Martial Matters; Master Ji’s Innate Talent Begins to Emerge

“By the way, judging from the way you sent that original Ji Master flying with a single palm, you know martial arts, don’t you?” Ji Master looked at Red, speaking. Red looked incredulous. “You’ve been here a whole day since transmigrating, and you still haven’t realized that in this world, one can practice martial arts? Those with great skill can even match armies single-handedly.” As he spoke, he began to sing, “With strength enough to uproot mountains, my spirit dominates the age; yet the times are against me, and my steed won’t run. If my steed won’t run, what can I do? Oh Yu, oh Yu, what is to become of you?” He paid no mind to Ji Master’s face, which had become so dark it seemed it might drip water.

“All right, enough with the singing. Hurry up and tell me the key things I need to know about martial cultivation!” “Fine, you’re still as much of a killjoy as before—but I like that, ha ha!” Red laughed. “First, you need to know that the path of martial arts is divided into two major realms. The first is the Warrior Realm, which is split into eight stages, from lowest to highest: Trace, Fleeting, Thread, Minute, Fine, Fraction, Angle, and Origin. Above that is the Grandmaster Realm. It’s said a Grandmaster has the strength of a hundred oxen—about a hundred thousand jin. Not quite on par with the Wild Emperor, but still much stronger than my third brother, right?” Red cackled.

“How many Grandmasters are there in the world today?” Ji Master asked, looking at Red. “Openly, there are fewer than ten. As for the hidden ones, who knows? But don’t worry about that—people at the Grandmaster level are elusive as dragons; you’re unlikely to meet one. But as it happens, my foster father is just such a Grandmaster.” Red laughed heartily, clearly pleased with his own good fortune. “If that’s so, why are you here in Ruzhou trying to win over Zhu Shengzhi? Won’t your foster father help you?” Ji Master asked, curiosity in his eyes.

“It’s not as simple as you think. I’m just a foster son, not his real child. My status isn’t low, but the real situation—only I know the inside story.” He sighed. “Zhu Shengzhi is at the Origin stage; unless a Grandmaster intervenes, he’s basically unmatched in the world. As for me, I’m just at the Fine stage. But I’ve heard that although Zhu Shengzhi is powerful, he’s a rough man. To conquer the world, martial strength alone isn’t enough—you need strategy and wisdom. That’s why he often holds literary gatherings, hoping to recruit talented people. I thought, with five thousand years of Chinese culture behind me, surely I could pass for a learned man in his eyes? So I came. But I didn’t expect to meet you here—truly, fate!” As he spoke, he broke into song again: “Fate brought us together outside the chaos of the world, yet destiny...” Mid-song, he realized something was off and fell silent.

“Tell me when the literary gathering will be, and what exactly it will test. If there’s enough time, I’d like you to teach me martial arts in the coming days. Whatever I can learn, I will—my goal is to reach the Trace stage before the gathering and become a true martial artist.” “The gathering is in about six or seven days. With my Minute-stage skills, getting you to Trace stage should be a breeze!” With that, Red grinned at Ji Master. “From now on, let’s burn the midnight oil together! Oh no, I mean, let’s have midnight talks!” he said, grinning mischievously. Thus began their supposed “midnight talks.”

The next day, Ji Master rose early. He knew he had started late, so he sought to make up for lost time through effort. After a quick wash, he went to Red’s bedside and slapped him awake. “Hey, hey, my foolish little Red, wake up! You’ve got five minutes, and if you’re late, you’ll pay for it!”

He then made his way to the inn’s backyard and began some simple warm-up exercises. Five minutes later, Red appeared, clearly disgruntled. “Hey, hey, hey! Lose that ‘just bit into a lemon’ look. Hurry up with the lesson; I’m destined to be a king, and I can’t waste a moment.”

Hearing Ji Master’s dramatic words, Red sneered. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. For now, just focus on the basics—drawing in energy. Martial cultivation is all about training one’s inner energy. That’s why warriors here are so much stronger than those on Blue Star. The art of drawing in energy—also called the Breathing Technique—is essential. Of course, there are martial skills too, but first things first: draw in energy. If you can’t do it within three hours, it means you’ll never be a warrior. But don’t be discouraged; you’ll still have me to watch your back.”

“All right, enough chatter. Give me the Breathing Technique,” Ji Master said impatiently. “All right, all right, here you go!” With that, Red pulled a yellowed booklet from his bosom. “This is an Earth-grade Breathing Technique, a reward the original owner earned for his foster father. It’s your good luck to have it. With this, even if your talent is poor, as long as you work hard, reaching the Fraction stage in your life won’t be a problem. Back then, even the original owner—with his talent—took a quarter of an hour to succeed. Now, it’s your turn!” As he spoke, he reminisced about that glorious achievement that wasn’t his.

Ji Master shot him a disdainful look, then eyed the Breathing Technique in his hand, “Heaven’s Earth Breathing Technique.” “How strangely familiar this feels!” he exclaimed. He opened the booklet; the moment he began, he was fully absorbed, his body unconsciously following the instructions. Lost in his memories, Red didn’t even notice. Suddenly, Ji Master felt a burning heat in his lower abdomen. “Damn!” he shouted, startling Red.

“What’s going on? Haven’t you even started? Don’t rush—these things take time...” Red began, adopting a lecturing pose. Ji Master cut him off, “I think I succeeded!” “You succeeded?!” Red looked at him in shock. “Impossible! That’s impossible! How long has it been—not even a minute? You’re not trying to fool me, are you? I know you want to prove yourself, but talent isn’t something you can force...”

“Stop, stop!” Ji Master interrupted as Red was about to launch into another speech. “Just now, my lower abdomen felt incredibly hot, as if a current was flowing. Now my whole body feels warm.” Hearing this, Red looked at him seriously. “Try channeling that energy to your palm and give me a strike.” “All right...” Ji Master tried, expecting it to be difficult, but the energy obediently flowed into his right palm. Feeling his palm surge with strength, Ji Master struck Red’s shoulder. To his surprise, he actually sent the Fine-stage expert staggering.

“No way, man—you really did it! I’m impressed! Genius, I bow to you!” Red said with mock reverence. “Enough! Try to act your age—you’re a Fine-stage expert, for heaven’s sake.” Ji Master looked at his right palm. “With talent like this, I’ll surely make my mark in these troubled times!” he thought, ambition swelling within him.

“By the way, do you have any martial techniques? I feel like I’m born to be a swordsman—how dashing would that be!” Ji Master mused about the future. “Martial techniques, swords... Let me think. Ah, this ‘Earth Sword’ would be just right for you. It matches your Breathing Technique. I’d thought of practicing it myself, but I don’t seem to have the knack. Now it’s yours. Give it a try, and as for a sword, I’ll have a servant bring you a black-iron blade this afternoon. Just make do with it for now—it’s quite a treasure. All right, I’ll go inquire about the literary gathering. You keep practicing!” With that, he sauntered away.

Ji Master watched him leave, then turned to study his Breathing Technique and martial skills.

In the days that followed, Ji Master devoted himself to training, while Red came and went at odd hours, his activities unknown.