Clenching his fists, Li Guanyi felt the scorching hot stream of energy surging and roiling through his body, a sensation vastly different from before—it was almost surreal.
If he had to compare, the inner energy from before was like a tiny sesame seed.
But now, it was the size of an egg—condensed into a solid, tangible form.
He tightened his fists, assumed a horse stance, and threw a punch forward. The force of the punch was powerful, vigorous, and seemingly endless.
Taking a step back, he unsheathed the short sword his aunt had given him, drew back, and began executing sword moves—horizontal slashes, vertical chops, upward sweeps.
Sweep the Clouds, Split the Mountains, Slice the Clouds, Cut the Waves.
Push the Mountains, Block the Ridges, Pierce the King, Kill the Driver.
These moves, completely different from the famed techniques of the Eight Slashes of Po Jun known for their inner strength, poured forth in one fluid sequence.
With muscle memory awakening, the initially clumsy movements swiftly became practiced and refined.
Eight Slashes of Po Jun, entry-level!
Eight Slashes of Po Jun, proficient!
Eight Slashes of Po Jun, mastery!
Eight Slashes of Po Jun—
The sword strikes emanated a chilling, disciplined killing intent. Even in the cramped space, a layer of pale sword light seemed to ripple outward. As that light froze in place, Li Guanyi stepped half a pace back, exhaled lightly, and brought the short sword down in a heavy, decisive slash—like a crescent moon falling from the sky.
Final move—Sever the Sirius!
A buzzing sound echoed—not from the air, but from within, the sound of every muscle and tendon tightening to their limit before explosively releasing.
The final strike was completed.
Li Guanyi held the short sword with both hands, breathing steadily. He could feel the tremors in his muscles—a strange, almost familiar sensation surfaced in his mind. It felt like he had practiced this sword technique for years, yet his muscles lacked the corresponding memory.
The ache and tremors brought on by exertion were gradually soothed by the warm current flowing inside him.
Eight Slashes of Po Jun perfected!
Reviewing everything that had just happened, Li Guanyi narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. "This is…"
"The bronze cauldron… it absorbed some kind of power from Yue Qianfeng, transformed into that dragon, and it seemed to carry parts of Yue Qianfeng's martial memories… helping me cultivate…"
But then his train of thought was abruptly cut off.
A wave of overwhelming hunger gripped his stomach. As his brain started working, it burned through what little energy he had left. His stomach churned and twisted violently, acid threatening to rise in his throat, completely disrupting his thoughts. Clutching his abdomen tightly, Li Guanyi's rational mind collapsed under the assault of hunger.
It was like the feeling of staying up all night gaming and finally winning one round—utter exhaustion, absolute hunger.
Hungry! So hungry!
Swallowing hard, he tiptoed out of the room.
First, he grabbed a carrot, washed it quickly, and stuffed it into his mouth, crunching and chewing as he devoured it. Lighting a fire to cook at this moment would take too long, so Li Guanyi pulled out a flatbread from the wooden cupboard, then moved a stone off the lid of a black jar, took a clean pair of chopsticks, and fished out some pickled vegetables and garlic.
Squatting behind the cupboard, he alternated between bites of flatbread and mouthfuls of salty pickles. In no time, the entire flatbread was gone, just barely suppressing the wild storm of hunger in his stomach.
Still unsatisfied, he licked his lips and pulled out another flatbread, tearing it apart as he chewed, finally giving himself time to think.
"This feels like the kind of hunger caused by intense body refinement—energy conservation at work. Martial cultivation transforms the body, which requires vast amounts of nutrients. But for the Breaking Array Tune to advance so quickly to completion, no way I could've done it on just a few flatbreads. Looks like that jade liquid inside the cauldron is the key—it must act as some kind of… essence, or yuan energy."
Li Guanyi flipped his chopsticks around, absently scratching lines into the dirt on the floor.
Their rented courtyard couldn't afford luxuries like floorboards. The rooms were just earthen floors, which made it convenient for Li Guanyi to write things down as he thought. Spotting an ant nearby, he casually stabbed it with the end of his chopstick, then scratched more marks into the dirt, combing through his thoughts.
"So this cauldron… it can absorb yuan energy or some kind of divine essence from powerful martial artists."
"And when it's full, it can transform into… a red dragon or something, using that divine essence or yuan energy to aid in cultivation…"
Li Guanyi had roughly figured out its purpose, but new questions began to surface.
Rubbing his chin, he muttered to himself, "So what's required to activate this absorption? Does it only work on martial artists of a certain level, or is there some other condition?"
"Second, just how powerful is the feedback from the cauldron? What's its limit?"
"Third… does it only assist in cultivating martial techniques that the target possessed?"
The more he thought, the more questions arose. But just then, faint footsteps echoed nearby. Li Guanyi stuffed the remaining flatbread into his mouth, hunched down, and turned around, only to see his aunt—her posture tense and alert.
She saw him at the same time, and both of them flinched and stepped back in surprise.
Then Murong Qiushui let out a breath of relief. She reached out her slender, fair hand, tapped the boy lightly on the forehead, and said with mock annoyance:
"With all that noise outside, I thought we had a thief."
"Turns out it's just you, greedy little cat."
Li Guanyi scratched his head, the seriousness from moments ago melting into a shy grin. "I was hungry."
His gaze, however, drifted to his aunt's loose brown robe trimmed with white, her long black hair cascading down like a waterfall, her eyes bright like morning stars, her fair hands lightly brushing her clothes as she casually tossed a dented iron pot to the side with a clang.
Li Guanyi's mouth twitched slightly.
If it had been a thief, they probably would've had their skull smashed in by now.
That iron pot might have a chip in it, but it packed a punch. Thirty-seven petty thieves had already fallen victim to Aunt Murong's expert throws. Living as a woman alone with a child, even if they kept a low profile, trouble was bound to come knocking eventually.
Had he turned around a second later, he might've been the one getting brained by that pot.
Murong Qiushui took a step forward, her gaze sweeping over Li Guanyi, up and down. Suddenly, she smiled and said, "Li'er… been practicing martial arts today, haven't you?"
Li Guanyi froze. "How did you know?"
Murong Qiushui chuckled softly, "I may not understand martial arts, but I know that after one learns internal strength, a ravenous appetite is common. Besides, my clever Li'er is so talented—only a fool like that Crimson Dragon guest wouldn't pass martial arts on to you."
She lifted her skirt slightly and took light steps to the other side of the cupboard, closer to Li Guanyi. Only then did he notice that her fair, delicate feet were bare—she must've rushed out upon hearing movement, too hurried to put on shoes. Now she sat on the ground by the cupboard, smoothing out her clothes before patting the ground beside her.
Li Guanyi sat down next to her.
Murong Qiushui wrinkled her nose slightly and said, "I meant—get me a flatbread too."
Li Guanyi was stunned, teasing, "Didn't you say you don't eat after dark?"
Murong Qiushui coughed lightly, "Got up, got hungry!"
Li Guanyi nearly burst out laughing but held it in. He had thought grabbing some cold flatbread would do the trick, not wanting to disturb his aunt's rest, but since she was awake too, he decided to light the fire and cook properly.
Soon, two bowls of noodles with poached eggs were served, with a small dish of pickled vegetables between them. Li Guanyi said, "There's no meat left in the house. This will have to do for now."
Unexpectedly, Murong Qiushui grinned and raised an eyebrow. "But… I do have a drumstick. Want it?"
Li Guanyi lifted an eyebrow in surprise.
Murong Qiushui twirled her chopsticks, lifting a large swirl of noodles—wide at the bottom, narrow at the top—looking remarkably like a drumstick. Li Guanyi couldn't help but laugh, seeing the triumph in her eyes, so he pointed at a piece of pickled vegetable and said:
"If that's a drumstick, then this must be braised pork."
"Hmph, then this one's roast goose!"
The two of them sat together beneath the old wooden cupboard. The courtyard around them was worn and dilapidated.
After Murong Qiushui's illness, she pawned all her jewelry to keep them afloat.
This very courtyard had been rented with the money from pawning her white jade pendant. Even Li Guanyi could tell that the pendant was extraordinary—smooth as fat, lustrous as cream, resonant as gold, delicate as silk, white as mutton fat, dense as a balm. It bore the carving of the Thousand-Handed Guanyin—a keepsake given by her late husband. But seeing only a frail woman with a child, the pawnbroker had offered a mere ten taels of silver.
Li Guanyi had wanted to drag his aunt away from that place, but she had calmly agreed to the deal.
Even when Li Guanyi was about to explode with rage, his aunt merely patted his head and smiled softly, saying that no keepsake was worth more than a person's life. Half the silver went to rent this courtyard, the other half carefully stored for living expenses.
Even so, this courtyard was falling apart. Other than the living quarters, the other rooms all leaked. During summer rains, they had to place pots to catch water. Sitting by the cupboard, raising his head, one could see through holes in the roof to the ink-black sky, scattered with faint stars.
Bowl and chopsticks placed aside, Li Guanyi turned his head to see his aunt, head bowed, already fallen asleep.
The twelve-year-old boy gripped the sword at his waist.
The cold, hard touch of the blade felt reassuring. Li Guanyi whispered to himself:
"One day, I'll make all the food we dreamed about tonight… real."
Carefully, he lifted his sleeping aunt and carried her back to her room. Though she was tall, she felt feather-light, like a dandelion that might float away on the breeze, carrying a faint floral scent when he drew close.
The bed was nothing more than dirt mixed with grass, layered with dry straw and thin blankets. Every rainy season and winter night was a bitter struggle.
Li Guanyi tucked her in, made sure the quilt was secure, then returned to his room.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open his shirt, wanting to check on the bronze cauldron at his chest.
And then—he froze.
The red jade liquid inside the cauldron was gone.
But on the inner wall of the bronze cauldron… a crimson dragon-shaped mark had appeared.
Clear and vivid, unmistakable!
(End of Chapter)