At dawn, Li Jian was dragged to the Tianshu Courtyard first for half an hour of cultivation, followed by the four senior apprentices, each taking half an hour.
After one full rotation, they went through another, consuming five hours in total.
Only then did they cease. Though eager, he wished he could cultivate for twelve hours a day to strengthen their bones, but alas, their capacity was limited; their bodies could not bear more.
Cultivating during the day and resting at night, and then resuming the next day, they could barely manage.
Every morning, Li Muzhan would visit the Tianji Courtyard. The moment Li Jian saw him, he would look utterly dejected, his face sunken and spirit low, as if walking to the execution grounds.
This torment, like ten thousand ants gnawing at the bone, was one of the cruelest tortures known to man, beyond endurance.
Li Muzhan employed goading tactics, mocking him: a true man should not be so timid, needing protection instead of exhibiting might; if he could never stand on his own, he would surely be looked down upon by his wife and children.
Li Muzhan's Buddhist insights were profound, and his grasp of human psychology precise; every word struck directly at the heart, like a sword piercing the soul, always stirring Li Jian’s fighting spirit.
He spurred Li Jian every day before commencing cultivation. Without this surge of drive, Li Jian would never have endured the pain, which was enough to shatter any will.
Zhao Yuzhen and the others were far more resilient, encouraging each other and even finding amusement in their suffering.
Having been cornered by Bai Qingshi this time, they had felt the brush of death and deeply understood the importance of strength; their lives were at stake, so enduring some hardship was nothing.
Li Muzhan appeared slightly fatigued after each exertion, though much of it was feigned; otherwise, they might regard him as a monster. Zhao Yuzhen and the others noticed but said nothing, holding their gratitude deep within.
In this manner, nine days slipped by.
Over these nine days, Zhao Yuzhen and the other four had seen a massive surge in power. Zhao Yuzhen tested himself carefully; his strength had increased by twenty percent, and with greater power came faster footwork and quicker swordsmanship.
It was equivalent to three or four years of strenuous training. He gave a wry smile; this method was too much of a shortcut, too enticing. Only the fifth junior brother was foolish enough to harm himself for the benefit of others.
Li Jian, being younger, improved even faster, his strength increasing by half, making him quite the strongman. In sparring with the senior apprentices of his courtyard, his strength was not inferior, though his command of moves was somewhat lacking.
Yet, he never spoke kindly, complaining ceaselessly instead of showing gratitude. Zhao Yuzhen and the others found this amusing, a testament to the depth of their friendship.
Li Muzhan merely smiled, engaging in no arguments with him.
Having originally studied philosophy, after being reborn, he saw the ways of the world with greater clarity. There existed an unseen law in this world: giving and taking, cause and effect, yin and yang.
Giving and taking were eternally interconnected—to give was to receive, and to receive was to give. Mortals could not grasp this, clinging only to the material, unaware that intangible things were far more precious.
Furthermore, what he sought was only to be the foremost under heaven, the path eternal; everything else was mere passing cloud. What should be relinquished must be let go; trying to reap all the benefits was the most ridiculous pursuit.
Understanding how to reap was difficult enough, but understanding how to give was even more valuable.
These past few days, Li Muzhan had remained in the Tianshu Courtyard, not returning home at night, seizing every moment to cultivate and make up for the time he had delayed. He would soon be leaving the manor to escort a convoy.
Venture into the martial world was no trivial matter. Although his martial arts were first among the seven courtyards, he was still far behind in the broader world of jianghu, where his life could be forfeit at any moment.
One evening, as the few of them were chatting by the lake, passing the time with anecdotes from the manor and news from the martial world, enjoying a leisurely atmosphere.
He Nanshan and the other two had largely recovered from their injuries; Elder An’s elixirs were truly extraordinary, and they could resume training. Yu Chi Ming had regained his cheerful disposition, often bursting into laughter.
Just then, with a sound of light footsteps, Xiao Yuan suddenly appeared, entering the courtyard and walking directly towards the group, a faint, delicate fragrance trailing behind her.
Dressed in a pale pink silk gown, she looked at Li Muzhan, her bright eyes clear as water: “Zhan Ran, the Young Miss requests your presence!”
Li Muzhan had requested leave from Mei Ruolan and had not visited the Qing Garden these past few days, meaning he hadn't seen Xiao Yuan for several days.
Li Muzhan looked up and smiled: “Is there something?”
“We depart tomorrow, have you forgotten?” Xiao Yuan rolled her eyes at him.
Yu Chi Ming stood up, approached, and chuckled: “Xiao Yuan, you’ve grown even prettier since I last saw you!”
“Yu Chi Ming, be gone!” Xiao Yuan waved her small hand dismissively and snorted: “You’re a weakling now, be careful I don't hurt you!”
Yu Chi Ming chuckled again: “Xiao Yuan, when the Eldest Miss escorts the convoy, are you going with her?”
He was so used to being rebuffed by Xiao Yuan that he was completely immune.
Xiao Yuan snorted: “Of course!”
“Tell the Eldest Miss to let me join you, alright?” Yu Chi Ming quickly pleaded.
“You—?” Xiao Yuan glanced askance, scornful: “What use would you be? ...This journey is dangerous; even Zhao Yuzhen isn't permitted to go! Do you think you can?!”
Yu Chi Ming laughed: “My martial arts have greatly increased now, I won’t be a burden!”
“No way! ...Zhan Ran, let’s go!” Xiao Yuan gave him a final look and beckoned Li Muzhan.
Li Muzhan rose, gazed at the setting sun, and smiled: “Senior Apprentice Brother, I’m leaving. ...I’ll return home tonight; don’t wait for me for dinner.”
Zhao Yuzhen nodded.
He followed Xiao Yuan to the Qing Garden. In the crimson glow of the sunset, Gong Qingyun, clad in white, was practicing her swordplay; specks of sword light flashed, radiating a chilling aura.
Seeing him approach, Gong Qingyun did not stop her sword movements, paying him no heed.
Li Muzhan watched for a moment, nodded with a slight smile as a greeting, then turned and entered Mei Ruolan’s small courtyard.
Toward Gong Qingyun, he always carried a sliver of guilt.
Mei Ruolan, in a violet gown, stood beside a flower bed, holding an unmoving posture. Li Muzhan recognized it instantly; she was practicing pole stance.
Her posture was peculiar: legs slightly bent, torso leaning forward slightly, left arm extended flat, right arm raised slightly, like a white crane spreading its wings, ready to soar into the clouds.
Li Muzhan observed it briefly, committing it to memory.
The core of this pole stance lay in the circulation of internal energy; the physical posture was secondary to that.
However, this world was a vast net, everything interconnected, expanding from a single point to a surface—a single leaf revealing the autumn, a drop of water reflecting the ocean.
He resolved to analyze it later; moreover, the pole stance had a unique advantage in guiding qi with form, perhaps allowing him to glimpse the secrets of the mental cultivation method through the posture itself.
He suddenly recalled that martial arts originated from the ancient sages' perception of the heavens, earth, and all living things; cultivating martial arts required not only arduous practice but also close engagement with nature.
Mei Ruolan’s pose was exceptionally graceful, as if in a trance she transformed into a white crane, standing beneath ancient pines, amidst mountain rocks, elegant and serene, seemingly about to ascend directly to the firmament.
“Hss—” A long, soft exhalation sounded; her chest rose and fell as she expelled a breath, causing a nearby peony bush to shake violently, as if lashed by a strong wind.
Li Muzhan silently praised her; the Young Miss was very young, yet her internal energy was profoundly deep, truly astonishing. His own internal energy had surged rapidly, but he was still a shade weaker than hers.
“Zhan Ran, you’ve arrived.” She turned, nodding faintly.
Her skin was like congealed fat, appearing like red jade under the setting sun; her eyes shone with brilliance. A mere glance made his heart leap, and he quickly composed himself, offering a cupped-hand salute.
“Xiao Yuan, bring the things.” Mei Ruolan instructed, taking the teacup handed to her by Xiao Yuan.
“Right away.” Xiao Yuan agreed, handing the other cup of tea to Li Muzhan.
She was quick on her feet; she had already stepped inside while Li Muzhan was observing, returning with the teacups.
Li Muzhan accepted his with a smile, looked up, and asked: “Young Miss, are we leaving tomorrow?”
Mei Ruolan moved to sit in a nearby pavilion, gesturing to the seat opposite her: “We depart at dawn tomorrow. ...Go back tonight and settle your affairs; this escort mission will take considerable time.”
“Yes.” Li Muzhan sat opposite her.
Mei Ruolan cautioned: “The Northwest has been unstable recently; keep that in mind.”
Li Muzhan nodded, sipping the tea lightly. The tea in the Qing Garden was superb, serene and penetrating to the heart, as if expelling all impurity, leaving him feeling buoyant, his pores open.
Xiao Yuan returned swiftly, carrying a small red-wood tray covered with red cloth.
The tray was placed gently on the stone table. Xiao Yuan pointed: “Zhan Ran, this is yours!”
“What is this...?” Li Muzhan was puzzled.
Mei Ruolan explained: “This is your stipend; take it back with you tonight.”
Li Muzhan lifted the red cloth, and silver light immediately flashed—it was neat stacks of silver ingots, arranged in three rows.
Mei Ruolan watched him closely, observing his expression.
Li Muzhan burst out laughing. He had never seen so much silver before, yet seeing it suddenly elicited no change in his demeanor; his heart remained as calm as still water—his self-control had indeed deepened.
Li Muzhan looked up and smiled, asking: “Young Miss, is this escort mission very difficult?”
“It is,” Mei Ruolan nodded, gazing into the distance: “On the last mission, we incurred a mortal feud with the Blood Scythe Sect. This journey will surely involve fierce fighting.”
“Blood Scythe Sect?” Li Muzhan inquired.
Mei Ruolan replied: “The Blood Scythe Sect is a major martial sect in the Northwest, possessing considerable strength and deep roots; they cannot be underestimated.”
Li Muzhan frowned in thought, then nodded, saying no more.
Xiao Yuan chimed in confidently: “Zhan Ran, don’t worry! The Miss is leading personally. No matter if it’s the Blood Scythe Sect or the Green Scythe Sect, we’ll ensure they never return!”
Mei Ruolan shot her a look, and Xiao Yuan stuck out her tongue, falling silent.
Li Muzhan sighed softly.
“Zhan Ran, speak up, why the sigh!” Xiao Yuan chided with a delicate pout.
Li Muzhan considered for a moment, then offered a wry smile: “Even if it’s dangerous, how can we retreat? Saying more is useless.”
“Zhan Ran, this time, it’s best if you don't go,” Mei Ruolan advised.
Li Muzhan laughed lightly: “Young Miss, your words are interesting...”
Mei Ruolan spoke gently: “I am absolutely not testing you. This time is truly too perilous. Zhan Ran, you are a martial arts genius rarely seen; to the Mei Manor, you are more important than I am.”
Li Muzhan smiled: “I am a man of the cloth. Life and death, birth and rebirth—it is all just a cycle in the grand turning of heaven and earth. If I cannot see through this, haven’t I cultivated my Buddhism in vain?”
Mei Ruolan sighed, her voice soft: “Very well then. ...Settle your affairs at home properly.”
Li Muzhan returned the salute with a smile.
Xiao Yuan retrieved a small red-wood box and placed the silver ingots inside. Li Muzhan took the box and walked straight out of the Mei Manor.
Leaving the manor, his long sword belted at his waist, his fingers running over his prayer beads, he walked slowly through the sunset glow.
Exiting Jinyang City, he quickened his pace, employing the Light Shadow Technique. In an instant, he was on a winding mountain path, heading to the summit to descend the other side.
Suddenly, he halted, frowning as he gazed toward the forest on his left.
This patch of woods was dense with pine trees, their needles covering the ground several feet deep, muffling all sound beneath his steps.
He called out sternly: “Who is there? Come out!”