Medicine and martial arts are inseparable.

Perhaps it was due to his injuries, but Chen Jue slept straight through until nine in the morning over the next two days, finally waking to find the typhoon outside gradually subsiding.

At two o’clock the previous night, the typhoon had made landfall near northern Fujian, and was now moving southwest, skirting the city of Wen. The events of last night—his thoughts about his attribute panel, and reflecting on the experiences of his life—left Chen Jue with a torrent of emotions.

Because his temperament had always been so heavily influenced by his environment, he had missed out on much over his twenty-seven years: the ordinary joys of family, friendship, love—none had been handled well, leaving him stubborn and obstinate. Just like last night, when he had punched the wooden fishing boat swept in by the waves, convinced that his body was now tough enough to withstand even the fiercest blows. Yet, a single wave and a battered boat had taught him a valuable lesson in humility—it was important to remain modest.

No matter how far one advanced in cultivation, nature must always be approached with reverence. It was foolish to let hotheadedness convince oneself of invincibility, to think one could turn the tables with brute force, only to end up in defeat.

After getting up and washing, he felt much better—his strength slowly returning—though his chest still felt tight and there lingered a faint, metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the mark of internal injuries that could not be healed overnight by medicine, food, or natural recovery.

Changing into fresh clothes, he walked over to Uncle Yu’s house, where he had a bowl of egg rice noodles for breakfast. Glancing at his attribute panel, he saw the same message: [Updating, please wait patiently].

“Still not updated?” Chen Jue felt a tinge of anticipation for this system update.

Previously, the appearance of the skill bar and health index had been minor patches, but now, after nearly a whole night, the panel remained unchanged—perhaps there was simply too much data to process. He wondered what the end result would be.

After breakfast, with Uncle Yu and his family expressing their concern, Chen Jue slowly made his way back to his villa.

With the typhoon passed, the winds and waves along the shore began to calm. Most of the heavy clouds had dispersed, and sunlight began to stream down. By tomorrow, it would likely be serene again—blue skies and tranquil seas.

While eating, Chen Jue had noticed Yu Yue already packing his bags, clearly waiting for word on when they could return to fishing.

With others preparing to resume work, Chen Jue naturally returned to his own cultivation. Even without the panel for now, he could still practice proactively.

He was no longer a novice; his mastery of internal and external force had given him a profound understanding of the human body. But with his internal injuries still unhealed, rest was essential. The various forms of hardening techniques and boxing he had learned could not be practiced for now, nor could he risk the twelve postures of the Muscle-Tendon Classic, as the large movements would only aggravate his injuries.

Checking his phone, he saw several new messages, including one from the middle-aged traveler with the gold watch he’d met at the Chencun Reservoir.

This small business owner was a photography enthusiast—he’d probably spent some time editing before sending over several photos he’d taken of Chen Jue practicing martial arts, along with a few tactful inquiries about his well-being during the typhoon.

Chen Jue replied with thanks, saving the photos—they were rare mementos, something to look back on in old age.

Besides this small business owner, he also chatted with a few old colleagues who had messaged him. Once done with WeChat, he went on Tieba, where he began searching the featured posts for advice on treating injuries and nourishing the body.

After being injured last night, Chen Jue had thought long and hard. Since he still had some ability to learn, why not pick up some medical knowledge related to martial arts and fitness?

Many of the top posts echoed the sentiment that “medicine and martial arts are inseparable.” For example, the famous Wong Fei-hung ran the Po Chi Lam clinic, treating patients while also teaching and practicing martial arts. Modern athletes, too, always had a team of coaches, doctors, and nutritionists to help with dietary planning, injury diagnosis, and post-injury recovery.

Chen Jue couldn’t afford to hire such professionals, and his body was changing so quickly that he didn’t want to expose his data to others. Last night’s hospital visit was a last resort, and fortunately, nothing went awry.

Since he couldn’t rely on others, he decided to teach himself medicine. He copied down the recommended “medicine and martial arts are one” books from the posts, placed an order for a full set—including both Chinese and Western medicine, modern nutrition, and anatomy charts. The books were inexpensive, costing less than a thousand yuan in total, all shipped express and expected to arrive in two days.

Just as he was about to exit Tieba, he noticed persistent pop-up notifications in the background. Clicking in, he saw that the junior moderator in the Internal Martial Arts forum—the user named “Half-step Bengquan Rules the World”—had been trying to contact him, requesting to add him as a friend.

Previously, Chen Jue had ignored such requests, being preoccupied with his own practice. But now, needing rest and having received good advice from this moderator before, he decided to accept.

If the message turned out to be meaningless chatter, he would simply delete the contact. Clearly, the other party had been eagerly waiting—no sooner had Chen Jue accepted than a new message appeared.

“Boss! You finally accepted my request! (kowtow emoji)”

The idea of a level-20 forum master calling him, a level-8 novice, “boss” was amusing, and Chen Jue replied with a wry smile.

“Martial Arts Expert: What’s up? (funny emoji)”

“Half-step Bengquan Rules the World: Nothing much, boss, just wanted to invite you to join our group for practice discussions! Do you use QQ? You don’t need WeChat—just QQ. Everyone in the group actually practices real kung fu. We’ve screened members with offline events; no posers allowed. Your force-projection video was amazing—everyone wants to pay their respects!”

“Martial Arts Expert: Are you sure my video was real? Don’t you need to screen me offline? I’m not meeting anyone in person! (wary emoji)”

“Half-step Bengquan Rules the World: No need, boss! I had your video professionally verified (serious face). Just send me your QQ number and I’ll add you to the group.”

Thinking this was a good opportunity for communication, Chen Jue sent over his long-unused QQ account, changing his nickname to “Martial Arts Expert.” His profile was left blank and set to private—no one would recognize him.

Soon, Chen Jue received a notification: he had been added to a group of about fifty people.

“Brothers! Remember that force-projection video? The boss is here—come pay your respects and liven things up! @allmembers”

“(staring emoji)”
“(heart eyes emoji)”
“Hello, boss! (offering a cigarette)”
“Boss, are you taking on disciples? (pouring tea)”
“Welcome, boss! Looking forward to your guidance! (cute emoji)”

The group was warm and lively—the moment Chen Jue joined, a flurry of welcome stickers flooded the chat.

He replied with a “(clasped fist) Here to learn and share. Please take care of me,” then glanced through the members’ nicknames.

Most had altered theirs in the format: “Nickname + martial art + province,” with members from all over the country, even some abroad. Their martial arts varied widely: Taiji, Xingyi, Bagua, Baji, Wudang Golden Cicada, Shaolin Luohan Fist—any major school you could think of was represented.

What drew Chen Jue’s attention most, however, was the group’s file folder, packed with materials on stance training, boxing, techniques, medical theory, philosophy, Daoist and Buddhist culture, alchemy, modern fitness, and nutrition.

Many were transcriptions from ancient texts, old books, or included high-resolution photos of original manuscripts—he wondered where these experts had unearthed them.

Curiously, Chen Jue opened a subfolder titled “Practices Pending Verification.”

“The Supreme Jade Scripture of the Inner Landscape?”
“The Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor?”
“The Nine Flowers Golden Book?”
“Macrocosmic and Microcosmic Orbit?”

“Can these ancient texts truly produce real results?” Chen Jue’s face was one of bafflement, as if, by joining this group, he had suddenly opened the door to a whole new world.