For these past two weeks, he had been immersed in the profound mysteries of the Flying Dragon Spear Technique, as if transported to another world—a world of spearplay, internal energy, and the physical body. Though he could not yet command his nei li (internal force), he could observe it, watching the flow of energy with cold, detached eyes. Most people could not divide their attention; focusing on the internal current meant neglecting external movements, rendering their form flawed, like a blind man walking. Conversely, concentrating solely on movement meant losing awareness of the nei li circulation. Li Mu Chan was different. He could multitask, maintaining the precision of his movements while simultaneously mapping the energy flow, etching the patterns into his mind, forming a precise model.

Inside his mind, there was a transparent body traversed by crisscrossing lines of six different colors: red, black, blue, yellow, green, and purple. His insight into observation was so deep that what others found complex, he could visualize with perfect clarity.

These variously colored lines represented the nei li. With every movement the body executed, one of these lines would writhe like a serpent, flowing slowly. Li Mu Chan built this model specifically for cultivating the Nine Revolutions Marrow Cleansing Scripture. He understood that mastering the internal energy circulation of the Scripture required an unconscious execution; mere conscious effort was useless, making it feel increasingly like a military martial art. But if it was a military art, what use was it to him? The Wang family’s martial arts were certainly not military techniques! Li Mu Chan puzzled over this endlessly. If it were truly military, then perhaps the version of the Scripture he saw was incomplete, missing an accompanying set of movements. Perhaps Saint Snow Peak did not possess the complete text, which would explain why only one person had ever mastered it. Either Wang Xiue hid the rest, or it had been lost. Li Mu Chan considered this carefully and leaned toward the latter; otherwise, just the movements alone would have sufficed. Or, perhaps the Wang family ancestor, pressured by circumstances, dared not reveal the secret military art, thus stripping away the physical forms and leaving only the paths for internal energy transference, offering a glimmer of hope to later generations. The world was vast, full of strange wonders. Li Mu Chan shook his head with a wry smile; even with thoughts as swift and precise as lightning, he could not unravel every mystery.

Having trained for these days, Li Mu Chan deeply understood the Flying Dragon Spear Technique's exquisite subtlety; otherwise, it would not engage every meridian in the body to achieve balance. Compare this to the Flying Bear Palm: while profound, it only activated two meridians. Though progress was rapid, it did not align with his current intellectual focus, so he had set the Palm aside during this period, concentrating solely on the Spear Technique. After half a month, he had fully mastered the Flying Dragon Spear, building an intricate model in his mind, and now intended to calmly contemplate the Nine Revolutions Marrow Cleansing Scripture. He planned to adapt the movements of the Spear Technique to drive the internal energy circulation required for the Scripture’s cultivation.

However, progress on the Yongquan acupoint had stalled these past days; he was still agonizingly close, repeatedly failing at the critical juncture, as if an invisible, overwhelmingly powerful, irresistible force held him back.

Li Mu Chan resolved himself. He fabricated an excuse for Instructor Zhang and informed Zhao Shengli that he would be sequestered in his room for several days, as if in isolated retreat. Zhao Shengli and the others were supportive, leaving meals outside his door for him to retrieve privately, ensuring no one disturbed his practice. Li Mu Chan stood before his couch, holding the Crouching Dragon Posture. This posture was the bedrock of the Flying Dragon Spear Technique, its core mystery—a profound magic hidden within the mundane. Only careful, minute appreciation could truly awaken the Yongquan point. Outsiders mimicking the posture without genuine guidance would struggle to comprehend it. Li Mu Chan’s exceptional memory, coupled with Instructor Zhang’s personal corrections, allowed him to learn quickly; otherwise, mastering the Crouching Dragon Posture would not have been easy.

The small room was quiet, occasionally pierced by the shouts from the drill ground to the south, the sounds drifting and changing with the wind. Listening to their vigorous cries, Li Mu Chan remained tranquil, his spirit focused solely on the Yongquan point, visualizing its location in his mind, shifting his consciousness toward it. He forgot all external stimuli, retaining only Yongquan. Day and night he drilled, supported by his formidable willpower, boring downward like an tireless drill bit. He lost track of time, enduring hunger, channeling all his strength into his spirit, visualizing Yongquan, merging with it, letting it infuse his consciousness.

After an indeterminate time, a booming sound echoed in his mind, and his vision dissolved into an empty expanse shrouded in swirling white mist, reminiscent of a vast, misty lake. The previously weary spirit suddenly felt light, then surged, as if after extreme starvation, he had suddenly taken a full, satisfying meal, instantly revitalized. A pure joy welled up inside him, and as this inexplicable elation bloomed, the xin zhu (Heart Pearl) suddenly multiplied to five. Then, the illusory scenery vanished. His spirit returned, and the Yongquan acupoint seemed to have reintegrated with his core, becoming indistinguishable from it.

With a mere thought, the view before him opened into a boundless space, laced with wisps of vapor drifting above what appeared to be the surface of a vast, misty lake. Li Mu Chan now understood: the vision before him was not an illusion but the true internal landscape of Yongquan. Now that his spirit and Yongquan were perfectly aligned, the scene he perceived differed significantly from what he had seen during prior internal observation. Could the previous internal sight have been merely a surface illusion?

Li Mu Chan suppressed his excitement. With five Heart Pearls, his sensory perception increased sharply, and the Eye of the Void ascended, expanding his view to encompass the entire drill ground. Focusing his gaze, he spotted Zhao Shengli and a few others among the crowd, riding swiftly, loosing arrows with precision. Zhao Shengli’s archery was the best, followed by Xiong Sihai, then Cai Yuzhang; the rest were comparable, hitting six or seven targets out of ten shots, hitting the bullseye being largely a matter of luck. He quickly retracted the Eye of the Void, grasping a sliver of clarity in his mind, pondering why the internal vision differed so drastically from the true internal landscape. Was there some kind of formation within the body, concealing the true nature of the acupoints, preventing clear sight?

The thought sent a thrill through him, as if he had touched the deepest secrets of the physical form. Had he not spontaneously merged his spirit with Yongquan at that moment, he would never have discovered this. The internal scenery of the body had two distinct layers; what was seen through standard internal visualization did not match what was perceived when the spirit truly merged—this held a profound secret. After a moment’s thought, a loud rumble echoed from his stomach. He shook his head with a self-deprecating smile and opened his eyes. The light in the room was soft, and the sound of galloping horses boomed outside, clearly indicating it was morning, though he had no idea which day. He slowly straightened up; his legs were profoundly numb. With a slight mental command, hot vapor surged from Yongquan, moistening his legs as if submerged in a hot spring, instantly dissipating the numbness.

Li Mu Chan mused privately: judging by this level of exhaustion, the time spent must have been considerable, for a body tempered by the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art should not fatigue so severely. He walked a few steps inside the room. With a slight shift of his consciousness, the Yongquan point pulsed out hot vapor, feeding continuously into his legs. He loosely clenched his right hand, made a slight gesture as if executing a spear thrust, and a wave of heat instantly flowed from his legs into his right arm, reaching his palm. His right palm felt swollen and hot, an incredible sensation, giving him the feeling he could shatter a long spear without even exerting force.

He laughed. This feeling was magnificent. From this point forward, he would no longer need the Crouching Dragon Posture; nei li would flow inexhaustibly, freeing him from any fear of energy depletion. A sudden thought struck him: if Yongquan could yield this result, what marvels would unfold if he could merge his spirit with all the major acupoints throughout his body? Would the Heart Pearls increase further? He had never anticipated that merging his spirit with Yongquan would cause the Heart Pearls to grow—an unexpected joy, something achievable only by chance. He still couldn't find a pattern for increasing the Heart Pearls; he only knew one thing: it could not be forced. It had to follow nature, or one would only meet with disappointment. Did this latest condensation of a Heart Pearl occur because the immense expenditure of spirit forged it into greater resilience, causing a breakthrough, or because the Yongquan point itself contained a unique energy capable of augmenting the spirit? To discern this, he needed to test another acupoint, but choosing which one required patience. The immediate priority was food!

He noticed a wooden box placed by the doorway. Pushing the door open, he brought it inside. Opening it, he found two dishes of food and four steamed buns, their fragrance rich. Li Mu Chan was ravenous. Since cultivating the military nei li, his appetite had dramatically increased, and he became hungry easily; now, he felt capable of devouring an entire ox, finishing the food in the box in two or three bites.

He pushed the door open again and stepped outside, heading toward the western stables. He found Chi Ying (Red Shadow) standing there alone, motionless, as if in contemplation. Looking at the horse, Li Mu Chan suddenly sensed its profound loneliness, and his heart softened. He sighed, realizing his ability of Ta Xin Tong (Mind Reading/Empathy) was growing stronger. Seeing him approach, Chi Ying let out a soft neigh, becoming instantly lively and excited, pawing the ground impatiently.

Li Mu Chan walked forward, stroked its neck, untied the reins, and without bothering with a saddle, vaulted onto its back. Chi Ying neighed softly and transformed into a streak of shadow, shooting out of the stable.

On the drill ground, the horse began to gallop furiously, circling the field again and again, its speed like a flash, its charge like lightning, startling the other riders who scattered, throwing the drill ground into chaos, their shouts and curses rising in chorus. Li Mu Chan laughed heartily, letting Chi Ying run wild.

Zhao Shengli bellowed, "What are you yelling about? Stay put!" Feng Dakun, Xiong Sihai, and the others stepped forward, glaring coldly at the crowd. Seeing that these were the men who had beaten the Flying Cavalry Battalion’s elite, the crowd finally quieted their anger.

After ten laps at full tilt, Chi Ying finally slowed, pacing leisurely to a stop before Zhao Shengli. Zhao Shengli, mounted, scrutinized Li Mu Chan from head to toe, then laughed, "Monk, are you alright? Li Zi was worried you'd starve to death and insisted on checking on you."

Li Mu Chan smiled, "I'm fine."

Zhao Shengli laughed heartily, "You look refreshed and sharp; seems your training paid off. Come on, let's have an archery competition!"

"Good idea," Li Mu Chan replied with a smile. With five Heart Pearls, his spirit was even stronger, and with Yongquan opened, internal energy flowed inexhaustibly. He had no further reservations, no need to be cautious.

When the challenge of the archery contest was announced, everyone else cleared a large open space. The Monk Mingkong was rumored to be a divine archer, having shown his skill in one past match, but since then, Li Mu Chan had kept a low profile, focusing his energy on spear and palm techniques, leading many to regret not seeing more.

"Monk, let’s use the old rules!" Zhao Shengli said with a grin.

Li Mu Chan nodded, chuckling, "How about this, Head Zhao, you and your few brothers team up? We’ll have one decisive showdown, how about it?"

"Oho, quite the bold words!" Zhao Shengli eyed him sideways, then turned to Xiong Sihai, "Brother Sihai, should we agree to this?"

"Let's do it," Xiong Sihai chuckled.

Zhao Shengli waved his hand grandly, "All right, it's settled then."

They moved to the northern edge, while Li Mu Chan took the south. The targets were placed on the western side, aligning with the center line of the drill ground. The others helped move the targets, leaving only two, one north and one south. Li Mu Chan turned to a large fellow, "Brother, please lend me two quivers of arrows!"

"Certainly!" the square-faced man exclaimed excitedly, quickly grabbing two quivers and handing them to Li Mu Chan. Li Mu Chan clipped the quivers to the horse's neck on both sides—it was inconvenient without a saddle, but this was the only way. He raised a hand, signaling he was ready, and across the way, Zhao Shengli raised his hand too.

"Ready, run!" A large man stood in the center of the drill ground and shouted the command, waving his hand down.

Chi Ying broke into a trot, then gradually accelerated after a few steps. Li Mu Chan’s arrows were already flying, his hands moving with incredible speed, shafts raining down onto the targets like a deluge. By the time he reached the midpoint, he had emptied one quiver. As he reached the rear section, his hand speed increased further; one could only see a blur of motion, arrows leaving the bow like continuous rain. In moments, all three quivers were empty, yet Chi Ying had not even reached the far end of the run.

The crowd erupted in cheers, the atmosphere electric. Li Mu Chan put away his bow, yanked the reins, and Chi Ying turned back, meeting Zhao Shengli and the others on the south side. Everyone turned to look at the targets. Someone ran over to count the total number of hits.

The tally showed Li Mu Chan had lost; he had struck sixty arrows, while Zhao Shengli and the others had collectively struck sixty-one, missing by just one shot. Nevertheless, the crowd cheered wildly for Li Mu Chan. The drill ground was vast, but the gallop of a fine horse covered the distance in a mere blink of an eye. To loose ten arrows in that time was already phenomenal; Li Mu Chan had loosed sixty in one continuous burst. His strength allowed him to draw the bow from a distance, his hand speed unleashed a continuous volley, and his accuracy was perfect, every arrow striking the mark. Such archery was truly divine.

The crowd surrounded him, eager to inquire about his technique. Just then, a group of men entered, radiating a chilling cold. Their faces were grim, and they were stained with blood, staggering onto the drill ground. Though Li Mu Chan had dismounted and was surrounded, he spotted them immediately. There were six of them; their appearance suggested extreme exhaustion, coupled with grim expressions, clearly indicating distress. The crowd quieted, turning their gazes toward the newcomers.

Zhao Shengli strode forward, his voice booming, "Hao Lao Er, what’s wrong?"

The leading middle-aged man, his face darkened, spared a glance for Zhao Shengli, ignoring him, and walked toward the two rows of houses on the east side. Zhao Shengli quickly followed, saying, "They ran into those fellows from West Zhao."

"Hmph, Xiao Jie and the others have been captured," Hao Lao Er ground out through clenched teeth, his face livid.

Silence fell over the drill ground; every face paled. Being captured was worse than being killed in battle. The conflict between West Zhao and Dayin grew fiercer daily, their hatred as deep as the sea. To be captured meant a fate worse than death.