"Please, honored instructors!"
That evening, Fang Xi hosted a banquet to entertain Mu Piaomiao and She Lei, the two martial instructors.
He wore a brocade robe and a jade coronet. Though slightly thin in frame, his bearing was elegant and refined, evoking a subtle, otherworldly charm. Mu Piaomiao, watching him, couldn't help but secretly admire the sight and raised her cup for a drink.
"Cheers!"
The cool wine slipped down her throat, making Mu Piaomiao's eyes widen in surprise. "Such fine wine…"
She Lei exclaimed in delight, "Could this be the legendary Autumn Dew White from Baili Winery? They say the owner only brews eighteen jars a year, each aged for three full years… worth at least a hundred taels!"
"Haha, I'm a man of simple pleasures—fine wine, exquisite food, beautiful maids, antiques, lavish mansions… and, of course, curious arts of pleasure."
Fang Xi poured himself a cup, letting out a wistful sigh: "I once heard a saying: 'A man should climb the highest peaks, drink the strongest wine, wield the fastest sword, ride the finest horse, bed the most beautiful women, and battle the fiercest foes.'"
In the world of cultivation, such words were dangerous to utter. But here, in this mundane realm, they served as small goals—a bit of indulgence and levity.
"Hahaha… to be young again!"
She Lei downed his cup of Autumn Dew White, suddenly feeling a flicker of his youthful spirit returning.
Once, he too had been a spirited young man with dreams… until a blade cut across his knee.
"Bed the most beautiful women…"
Mu Piaomiao's face flushed as she instinctively adjusted her collar, muttering in her heart, Little lecher... Yet, she couldn't deny the stirrings in her heart.
After all, she'd heard plenty of stories of female martial artists falling on hard times, forced to sell their beauty to survive.
And this Young Master Fang—handsome, wealthy, refined—was not the worst prospect…
"Say what you will, just this hall—cool and pleasant despite the sweltering heat—is rare indeed."
She Lei's gaze shifted to a large wooden box in the room and chuckled, "Could this be one of the 'curious arts' you mentioned, Young Master?"
"Indeed," Fang Xi replied with a wave, "It's a rudimentary air conditioner—keeps the room warm in winter, cool in summer. Nothing special."
The device was a fusion of cultivation magic and his modern knowledge, and he took quiet pride in its creation.
But he had no interest in mass-producing or profiting from it. After all, in a world where supernatural powers reigned, who in their right mind would want to be a businessman?
The Next Day
On the training grounds, Mu Piaomiao was absent, leaving only She Lei to instruct.
Though martial arts could be bought with coin, propriety still had to be observed.
She Lei's demeanor had turned far more serious. "Our Red Serpent Martial Hall's signature technique, the Red Serpent Leg, focuses on legwork. It begins with foundational footwork and stance training on wooden stakes. Later, we add weights for resistance training. I'll demonstrate."
Several rows of uneven plum blossom stakes had been prepared on the field.
With a light leap, She Lei landed atop the stakes, moving nimbly from one to the next: "Body like a pine, legs like a serpent. Move the body, but still the mind…"
After demonstrating the sequence, he stepped down and added, "Martial training consumes a lot of energy. It's best to supplement it with medicinal food. Initially, a doctor can prescribe basic tonics, but once you grasp the essence of blood qi, you'll need our martial hall's special elixirs."
"Special elixirs?"
Fang Xi's mind stirred. This tied directly into one of his goals. "What is this 'essence of blood qi'?"
He knew that if he followed the training path, he'd eventually gain access to the martial hall's supply of secret medicines, so he wasn't in a rush.
"The concept of blood qi is our way of categorizing martial progression."
She Lei elaborated, "At our Red Serpent Martial Hall, beginners start with the 'Serpentine Eight Steps'. Once they can harness their blood qi, that marks their first transformation, and they become inner disciples. With each transformation, their strength and endurance increase drastically. After the first change, they can break stakes with a single kick. At the second, they're considered elites within the hall. The third… that's the level of a successor."
"I see."
Fang Xi nodded, then stepped onto the stakes and began practicing the Serpentine Eight Steps.
Though his physique was average, his senses remained sharp thanks to his cultivation. He had always possessed a near-perfect memory—reading a passage just a few times was enough to recall it fully.
She Lei was quickly astonished. This noble young master may not have seemed athletic, but he grasped everything on the first try and improved with each repetition.
Though a bit slow, by his third attempt, the sequence was flawless.
Looks like Yuanhe Mountain misjudged this one, She Lei thought, his expression growing more serious.
"Master She, how long do you think it'll take me to grasp my blood qi and reach the first transformation?"
After several rounds, Fang Xi was drenched in sweat. A maid stepped forward to offer a towel as he wiped his brow and reflected.
This path of blood qi-based martial arts was leagues beyond the so-called martial arts found in cultivation manuals back in Southern Wilderness. He'd read a few of those—they paled in comparison.
"Most average disciples take about three months to feel their qi."
After all, this was just the first step. She Lei smiled, "But you, Young Master, are quite talented. It might be quicker."
"Three months, huh?"
Fang Xi nodded and returned to the stakes to continue his practice.
By afternoon, the instructor had switched—now it was the graceful, white-clad Mu Piaomiao.
"Our martial hall's secret art, the White Cloud Palm, has three stages—White Cloud, Dark Cloud, and Black Cloud!"
She struck a wooden post with a casual palm.
Smack!
A deep palm print was instantly etched into the wood, with blackened edges marking the impact.
Fang Xi sniffed the air, his expression shifting as he caught a faint stench: "Poison?"
"Correct. Sharp nose."
Mu Piaomiao smiled. "The White Cloud Palm is a poison technique. At later stages, one must infuse the strikes with toxins—just one blow can kill man or beast. But for now, you only need to strike the training posts. Let me demonstrate."
The entry-level practice involved repeatedly slamming one's palms into herbal sandbags laced with medicinal compounds.
Fang Xi spared no expense and immediately bought ten of the best bags, diligently practicing.
With every strike, he could feel his palms toughen and his strength slowly grow…
Time passed in quiet effort.
Green Bamboo Mountain
Fang Xi opened the door to his hut, gazing at the falling snow and the sparse furnishings within.
A plume of white breath escaped his lips. "It feels like another life…"
In the world of Daliang, he was a wealthy noble, Master Fang—a man of mansions, maids, and influence. Though setbacks came, silver could smooth nine out of ten troubles.
But here, in the cultivation realm of Southern Wilderness, he was a mere speck.
Scraping by at the very bottom of the hierarchy, barely surviving.
Wretched doesn't even begin to cover it!
Still, I need to keep managing the Emerald Bamboo Grove. Being a spirit farmer may be lowly, but at least I have access to the market and resources. Better than being a rogue cultivator…
He checked his robe. The Stone Dragon lizard—a strange beast—was still tucked safely inside.
First things first, I need to sell this, buy some talismans, and ideally, get my hands on a low-grade magical artifact!
He never forgot what his true reliance was.
The Daliang world was no paradise, either.
Without strength, there would be no luxury to enjoy!
Thanks to his enhanced senses and a few emergency talismans, he felt confident he could take down She Lei and Mu Piaomiao if needed.
And by occasionally vanishing from the public eye, he kept potential rivals guessing, preserving the illusion of a mysterious background.
But Fang Xi knew these good days wouldn't last forever.
One day, the scavengers and vultures lurking in the shadows would pounce.
He had to grow stronger.
For cultivators, the most straightforward path to strength was leveling up their realm.
Beyond that, the cultivation world offered many tools—far more than the martial realm—like powerful talismans, puppets, spirit beasts… and most of all, magical artifacts!
With my current qi, I can handle at most a low-grade artifact—but that's more than enough.
Most martial artists in Daliang couldn't dodge a crossbow bolt, let alone a flying blade—and they still fear the imperial court.
Magical artifacts were standard for cultivators at the Qi Refining stage, classified into four tiers, low, mid, high, and peak.
Even the weakest ones cost around ten spirit stones.
As for top-grade artifacts? Those were used by peak Qi Refining and early Foundation Establishment cultivators.
And above magical artifacts were the even rarer spiritual tools—and beyond that, the mythical treasures of the Dao.
Far beyond Fang Xi's reach… for now.
He put on a thick cotton coat and draped a raincloak over it before heading into the snow.
He could use spells to keep warm—but his qi was limited and had to be conserved…
As he walked, he ran into an old man—Old Maitou.
"Brother Fang…" the old man greeted him with a rosy-cheeked smile.
Fang Xi returned the smile. "Looking well, Old Mai. Something good happen?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just warming myself by the stove, making tea, enjoying a little company…" the old man replied airily.
But Fang Xi noticed the tremble in his legs and silently rolled his eyes.
Even cultivators have limits. Overindulgence will get you killed…
Though he kept the thought to himself, he couldn't help but admire those hidden houses of pleasure for their 'technique.'
"You're looking better too, Brother Fang…"
Old Maitou noted a certain vigor in Fang Xi's aura—more yang energy than usual. Not the cautious, reclusive man he'd seemed before.
"Just a short retreat. Made a little progress."
Fang Xi cupped his hands in a polite gesture and continued on his way toward the market.