Chapter Eight: Drawing Qi into the Body

He slept soundly until the first light of dawn crept in. The autumn harvest had already ended, and with no farming to be done, the villagers were in no hurry to rise. Only the village roosters, true to their nature, began crowing well before daylight.

Xiao Ding slowly opened his eyes to find his young wife, her eyes still closed, lips pursed in sleep, one slender arm draped across his chest, sleeping soundly. The autumn nights were chilly. Last night, wanting to consummate their marriage, his petite wife had taken off her outer clothes, leaving only a small undergarment. Now, she seemed a little cold, curled up tightly against him, seeking warmth.

Gently, Xiao Ding lifted Er Niu’s arm from his chest, then sat up and slipped off his own jacket, carefully covering her with it. The life of the poor was harsher than he could have imagined—even at night, there were no quilts to keep warm. Deep in his heart, he found it hard to accept such hardship.

But thinking it through, it was hardly surprising. Though the Tian family had many members, they were all elderly, frail, sick, or simple-minded. The only able-bodied worker was himself—the so-called fool.

Was he truly a fool? Xiao Ding didn’t think so. Even if he had been one before losing his memory, he was certain that now, he was anything but. Could it be that the Tian family had mistaken him for someone else?

His mind wandered back to the mutilated corpse on the mountain, devoured by wolves. Was it possible that the real Tian fool had died, and he had been mistaken for him? It seemed plausible.

But then, he reconsidered. Although he had lost his memory and couldn’t recognize the Tian family, there were so many of them, and plenty of villagers besides. How could all of them be mistaken? Especially the Tian family—could they really not recognize someone they lived with day and night?

One person, perhaps even two, might make a mistake. But for so many to do so? Even twins have their differences.

If he truly wasn’t who they thought, then who was he? Where had he come from?

Ultimately, whether he was the Tian fool or not, since the family had accepted him as their own, it was his duty to work hard and earn more to improve their lives. He could not let them continue in such poverty and misery.

After pondering for a long while, his head began to ache. He sat cross-legged again, focusing his mind on that mysterious technique.

After a few cycles of breathing, warmth radiated from his body. The smaller scrapes and bruises he’d suffered were already beginning to heal. He felt clear-headed, full of energy—as if his strength had grown once more.

An hour later, the exercise was complete. Xiao Ding slowly opened his eyes.

By now, daylight filled the sky and villagers were already stirring. Xiao Ding looked down at Er Niu, who was gazing up at him with her big, round eyes.

Last night, in the dim lamplight, he hadn’t looked closely at her. Now, in the morning glow, he saw that, though her face was thin and sallow, her features were fine—especially those limpid, shining eyes with long lashes that fluttered as if speaking. Had she been born to a well-to-do family, she would surely have been a beauty. Alas, she was born to poverty, never knowing a full meal, forced to labor since childhood. Thin and small, her skin was rough and dark, and though she was thirteen, she seemed no older than eight or nine.

“You’re awake?” Xiao Ding asked with a gentle smile.

“Mm.” Er Niu nodded, still staring at him as though she hadn’t seen him in years.

“If you’re awake, put your clothes on before you catch cold,” Xiao Ding said, pointing to the garments she’d left at the hut’s entrance the night before.

“Oh—” Only then did Er Niu realize she wore his jacket. Recalling the events of last night, a blush crept over her cheeks.

Though she had been married to her husband for over half a year, it was the first time she’d slept so undressed beside him.

She remembered their wedding, in winter. The hut had been lined with thick straw, yet it was still bitterly cold. She’d never dared to undress to sleep—sometimes, even fully clothed, she’d wake in the night from the chill.

As the weather grew warmer, her husband refused to let her touch him, claiming she practiced witchcraft; he said her touch made his heart race and left him needing to relieve himself. Eventually, the foolish husband simply stopped sleeping in the hut, burrowing instead into the haystack in the yard.

Shyly, Er Niu dressed in front of Xiao Ding, then draped his jacket over his shoulders again.

Seeing Xiao Ding still smiling at her, she asked softly, “Husband, are you not going to sleep in the haystack anymore?”

“Sleep in the haystack?” Xiao Ding was puzzled—he had no memory of this habit.

“Yes, from spring until autumn, you always slept in the haystack. Why didn’t you act silly last night?” Er Niu giggled, hiding her mouth, and recounted the embarrassing reason for his sleeping outside.

Xiao Ding sighed to himself—if he really was the Tian fool, his past actions had certainly been foolish.

“By the way, husband, do you really know some martial technique? Just now, when you were meditating, it felt so warm beside you.”

“Of course. Do you want to learn? I can teach you now,” Xiao Ding replied, though he still didn’t understand how he knew these skills. Like many other things—though he couldn’t remember the past, he instinctively knew what to do.

Take roasting wolf meat last night, for example. No one had taught him, but he’d done it naturally, skillfully. He couldn’t recall his past, but knowledge and techniques came to him without effort.

“Then teach me, husband. I want to see if it’s really as wonderful as you say.” Er Niu sat down beside him, eager.

“Alright,” Xiao Ding agreed. The hardest part of practicing the technique was always the first step—drawing energy into the body.

This first step revealed one’s talent for martial arts. Some people could grasp the secret in just a few days and gather energy in their lower abdomen. Others might practice for years without success.

The initial energy gathered in the body was what martial tales called “true qi.” Once enough was accumulated, it could be transformed into internal power—the greater the internal power, the stronger the martial ability. When internal power reached a certain threshold, the true qi condensed into spiritual energy. At this point, the practitioner could draw on the spiritual energy of nature using their techniques.

Spiritual energy could then be transformed into spiritual power. The difference between spiritual power and internal power was vast: with spiritual power, one’s lifespan could be greatly extended, and its healing and body-refining effects far surpassed those of internal power.

When spiritual power reached a certain level, combined with elixirs, one could attempt to forge a foundation and seek immortality. Yet, in truth, most who practiced merely managed to prolong their lives a little. Even so, those who succeeded in forging a foundation were exceedingly rare—perhaps only one would appear in centuries or millennia.

Xiao Ding first taught Er Niu the basic incantations by heart, then explained the methods of cultivation, the meridians, and pressure points. Er Niu had never encountered such things before. She was filled with curiosity, but also found it difficult to understand. There was so much to remember and comprehend; it was clear now that this technique was not so easily mastered.

The two of them sat cross-legged in the hut, discussing the practice, when Xiao Ding suddenly heard movement from the thatched house.

Someone was coming out of the straw hut…