Since the dust settled yesterday, Yang Yi and Fatty had been on their best behavior for days, like obedient housewives, quiet all day long. But today, they were dragged out of bed early.

The mysterious elder, Old Yang, stood in the courtyard, slowly inhaling and exhaling. A deep breath in, held steadily for three counts; a slow breath out, held at the nose for three seconds, the dantian rising slightly, hands opening subtly in reverse grips.

“Yi’er, Pang’er, heaven and earth have long been divided into Yin and Yang. Tai Chi’s founder, Zhang Sanfeng of the Wudang School, established this marvelous martial art that relies on the cycle of heaven and earth. The purpose of Tai Chi is to allow everyone to live beyond the mundane, maintaining physical and mental health. Come, follow me.”

As he spoke, he performed what he called "Tai Chi." Yet, who knew if he secretly despised himself, because the "Tai Chi" he taught now was not the genuine article, but a martial art that merely resembled it—it was called the Yijinjing.

For years, he had kept this from Yang Yi and the others, diligently teaching them everything he knew. But the reason why he did this remained an enigma.

Yang Yi’s eyes rolled as he watched his grandfather perform this unchanging routine, this "Tai Chi" performed daily. His face was etched with frustration. After practicing for just a short while, he couldn’t help but drag his feet. He had been practicing this martial art for eighteen years and remained stuck at a bottleneck, which only deepened his frustration.

The Yijinjing was divided into nine layers, which fell into two major stages. Each layer contained two crucial breaking points that needed to be breached.

The First Layer: Zhenqi Flows Smoothly. The Second Layer: Zhenqi Covers the Crown. The Third Layer: Zhenqi Fills the Body. The Fourth Layer: Zhenqi Attains Perfection. The Fifth Layer: Zhenqi Emits Externally. The Sixth Layer: Zhenqi Liquefies. The Seventh Layer: Zhenqi Condenses into Form. The Eighth Layer: Zhenqi Forms an Inner Elixir. The Ninth Layer: Zhenqi Transforms Tendons, Reborn.

This martial art progressed slowly, yet its power was formidable. Originally, this Yijinjing belonged to that so-called Shaolin Temple, but it had long vanished. Now, Old Yang used it as Tai Chi to fool Yang Yi and the others.

Yang Yi, having trained for eighteen years, grew increasingly disheartened the more he thought about it. Two years ago, he had already broken through to the peak of the first stage of the Third Layer, Zhenqi Fills the Body. Despite practicing incessantly over the past two years, he couldn't break through, stuck at that critical juncture, just one step away from advancing to the second stage of the Third Layer, then piercing the membrane to the Fourth Layer, after which his cultivation would soar higher and higher. It had to be said that the Yijinjing was truly somewhat arcane; once the second stage was broken, one advanced directly to the Fourth Layer.

“Damn it, practicing this damned skill for eighteen years and not a single bit of qi has broken through to the highest level. Hell, this truly sucks, this rotten Tai Chi,” Yang Yi grumbled internally, clearly vexed.

Fatty, seeing Yang Yi’s dejected expression, leaned closer and whispered, “Brother Yi, what good is Grandpa always teaching us this Yin-Yang Tai Chi? Damn it, dragging us up at dawn, it’s depressing.”

Hearing Fatty, the already frustrated Yang Yi glared, then suddenly spoke with righteous indignation: “Damn it, you bastard, you still question it? Isn't the Yin-Yang beneficial? Doing some piston-like movements at the appropriate time—beauties say this kind of movement is good for health, don’t you understand?”

“Holy crap, Brother Yi, that works?” Fatty asked quietly, astonished.

“What’s wrong with that? Hurry up and follow along,” Yang Yi said!

Lin Fatty grunted, his feet moving simultaneously, returning to his original position.

Yang Yi shot Fatty a look of disdain, but his hand and foot movements never ceased.

“Sigh, these two scoundrels.” Old Yang sighed inwardly, then frowned, deliberately coughing, “You two, pay attention! If you don’t do it properly, both of you can go grind medicinal herbs!”

When Yang Yi and Lin Fatty heard this, their faces changed. They exchanged a glance and immediately shouted loudly, “We got it, Grandpa!”

They knew what Old Yang meant by that. A curse word followed by another—grinding herbs. The smell alone, and the endlessly repetitive movements that never changed, made them feel sick. For these two, grinding herbs was pure suffering; not only was the medicinal scent pungent, but having to push that heavy millstone back and forth, endlessly, made them shudder just thinking about it. They quickly composed themselves.

The two slowly began practicing again. Yang Yi glanced at Old Yang’s back, his mind suddenly clear, slowly sinking into a mysterious state, silently chanting, “Since ancient times, heaven and earth divide into Yin and Yang, one Yin, one Yang...”

Chanting incessantly, moving constantly, he felt the zhenqi within his body growing fuller and fuller. Yang Yi felt a comfort he had never experienced before. Old Yang, whose back was facing Yang Yi the whole time, raised his eyebrows in surprise, a faint smile flashing across his face. It seemed he sensed the change in Yang Yi and felt a measure of relief.

Before long, the morning practice concluded.

“Alright, that’s all for today. Go eat breakfast!” Old Yang said, then walked back into the house, his thoughts unknown, a touch of detachment lingering around his brow.

“Hoo—hoo, damn, Grandpa is going to kill me. Got carried away with my thoughts,” Fatty flopped onto the ground the moment Old Yang left, panting and muttering nonsense.

“I really wonder if idiocy is contagious!” Yang Yi said speechlessly, looking at him.

“Brother Yi!” Suddenly, Fatty gave a secretive smile, glancing toward Old Yang entering the house, and slowly edged closer to Yang Yi.

Yang Yi looked at him doubtfully, unsure of what he was up to, and asked with a slightly unnatural expression, “Fatty, what are you doing?”

“Brother Yi, why do you think those people knew it was us sneaking around a few days ago?” Lin Fatty asked with unusual secrecy.

Hearing Fatty’s question, a wicked smile flashed across Yang Yi’s lips for a moment, quickly replaced by a look of weary patience. He said, “Given the circumstances at the time, only one person could have seen us and known where we were. How do you think they found out?”

Indeed, Yang Yi was right. Those middle-aged men couldn't possibly have known, as they had barely seen Yang Yi’s actual appearance, and they wouldn't have been discussing it while chasing them into the forest. This proved the middle-aged men couldn't have been the ones who knew.

However, Yang Yi knew what had revealed them, and yesterday he had even seen his grandfather holding the very evidence that exposed them. Lin Fatty seemed not to have noticed those details, so he was still clueless and shook his head. “Come on, Brother Yi, tell me quickly, you’re making me anxious.”

Yang Yi shook his head helplessly, looking at Fatty with the eyes reserved for an idiot. “Why don't you ask them, or ask Grandpa, or even ask that woman directly?”

“Hell, wouldn’t that be seeking death?” Fatty gave Yi Chen a disdainful look.

“I call you an idiot because you are one!” Yang Yi seemed about to say more when suddenly...

“Yi’er, Pang’er, come in here for a moment,” Old Yang’s voice echoed from inside the house.

“Okay, Grandpa!” Yang Yi waved toward his grandfather to show he understood, then shot Fatty a look. “I truly don't know how I ended up with an idiot kid brother like you. Besides that woman recognizing us, who else could have known? And didn't we leave evidence there? Didn't you see what Grandpa was holding yesterday?” Without waiting to see if Fatty understood, he stood up, brushed off the dust, and walked into the house.

Seeing Yang Yi about to enter, Lin Fatty stood up too. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead, showing slight dissatisfaction and discouragement, muttering, “Holy crap, Brother Yi, you totally tricked me! Damn, what a failure. No wonder that tissue felt so stiff back then; I almost used it to wipe my mouth.”

The reason the middle-aged men were certain it was them spying was precisely because of the evidence they left behind—the medicinal paper. It was the only kind of paper they possessed in the entire mountain village. So, was there any way they could escape exposure?

Recalling this, Lin Fatty suddenly cursed angrily, “Damn it, that medicinal paper is truly worthless, hell!”

When the two entered the room, they saw the mysterious Old Yang with a solemn expression. Yang Yi was quite puzzled. “Grandpa, is something the matter?”

“En, you are both eighteen this year. Have you considered leaving here and venturing out into the wider world?” Old Yang asked calmly, a faint smile appearing on his face as his expression shifted slightly.

: Brothers, please save this story often, thank you.