Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

Before the morning mist had dissipated, people had already gathered under the old locust tree at the village entrance.

Several square tables were set up in front of the ancestral hall, with land deeds, account books, and several bolts of homespun cloth piled on them, and two camphor wood chests with their lids open.

The comrades in the work team stood on the bench and read the May Fourth directive. Every time they read a sentence, there was a buzz of noise from below.

Land was cleared and rents were reduced, and farmers were given land.

An old man with white hair was pushed to the table, picked up a land deed, and looked at it closely. His hands trembled violently. After reading it, he put it in his pocket, then took it out to look at it again. He did this over and over again. People around him laughed, and he laughed too, tears streaming down his wrinkles.

In the literacy class converted from the Wang Family Ancestral Hall, the children followed along, reading the newspapers one word at a time. They read about the ceasefire, military mobilization, and the Central Plains. They didn't recognize all the words, so they dragged out the words.

The village entrance sentry duty shifts have changed, and the militiamen, carrying old-fashioned bullets, are asking everyone they meet for a pass, even those from the village.

On the threshing floor, the Women's Salvation Association was busy making military shoes; the sound of hemp rope threading through the soles echoed throughout the room, and bundles of shoes were stacked on mats.
The tensions are rising day by day; shoes are for those who are about to go to war.

Five days have passed.

In the courtyard, Ye Ningzhen sat cross-legged under the jujube tree.

A wisp of energy within the body followed the path given by Chen Zhan, ascending along the Du meridian and descending along the Ren meridian, moving extremely slowly, like spring water overflowing a riverbed that had been dry for over a decade, seeping in inch by inch.

She practiced Bagua her whole life, her palms moved with unorthodox methods, her steps followed the nine palaces, and her strength emphasized twisting, wrapping, drilling, and turning. Qi was used to generate strength, and once it was cultivated, it had to be used.

In this method of health preservation, everything is reversed; the energy is stored in the dantian, in the meridians, and in the bones.

I could only sit for one incense stick's time in the first two days, but today I sat for a full hour.

She finished her practice, opened her eyes, and Chen Zhan squatted three steps away to watch her.

"What's making you angry?"

"Spine".

"Two inches more than yesterday."

Chen Zhan got up and walked over, placed two fingers on her wrist to listen to her pulse for a moment, and then pressed on the old injury on her left shoulder.

"Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore, it just feels a little sore on rainy days."

"The gunshot wound went deep into the bone, and it will hurt for three months. From now on, cloudy days will be your weather patch." He withdrew his hand. "Your body has been depleted for more than ten years, and your qi and blood are deficient at the foundation. First, fill the hole and nourish the foundation of your dantian. Only then can you see the door to embracing the elixir."

"how long?"

"At your current pace, three years."

Ye Ningzhen raised an eyebrow, "From Transforming Energy to Embracing the Core, others might spend a lifetime and still not even get close to it, and you're saying three years?"

“No one else has the methods to maintain health, nor the Lesser Rejuvenation Pill,” Chen Zhan paused, “nor do I.”

Ye Ningzhen lowered her head and moved her wrists. After a while, she said, "I've practiced the killing fist for half my life, and now I'm learning Taoist qi cultivation in my old age. If word gets out, my fellow disciples will laugh at me."

"Lu Shouyi lived to sixty thanks to this, but his face looked like that of a thirty-year-old."

"And when did he die?"

"He begged me to let him go back to the mountains and forests."

Ye Ningzhen chuckled and said nothing more.

Health preservation methods are left by the dead; life belongs to the living.

at night.

Under the oil lamp, Chen Zhan flipped through Lu Shouyi's notebook, which he always carried with him. It also recorded Lu Shouyi's own methods of maintaining health. After looking at it, he found that it did indeed have some merit.

Lu Shouyi's pursuit of immortality was not just empty talk.

This method of health preservation encompasses the essence of almost every Taoist school.

The calligraphy is excellent, in tiny regular script, reflecting decades of practice. The first half of the book records the techniques, the timing of the "Toad-Fishing Strength," the Daoist circulation of Qi, and the health-preserving secrets from the Tongbai Palace. The book clearly details the year, month, and origin of each item, like an account book.

Middle Section Notes:
In 1922, I visited Cangzhou and met Li Shuwen's disciples. They were strong but physically rough, and their lifespan was limited.

In 1928, the Hangzhou National Martial Arts Games were held. For three days, the audience watched as masters gathered, all of whom were skilled in the Huajin School.

In 1933, I visited Xue Dian in Tianjin. He was skilled in primate techniques and used figurative language to convey meaning. This young man might be a good companion.

After 1935, Xue Dian's name never appeared again.

The handwriting in the second half of the book gradually became messy, and it was all questions.

After gaining divine insight, where does the path lie?

The physical body is exhausted, but the spirit is fulfilled. The aging process is slow but not yet stopped; one gets a little older every ten years.

A hundred years from now, it will still be just a handful of dust.

The last page contains only one line: "In this vast world, it is difficult to find someone who can attest to this."

Chen Zhan paused on this line for a while, then closed the booklet.

The lamp flame flickered, the night watchman's clapper sounded three times outside the courtyard, and he blew out the lamp.

It was raining the day the courier arrived.

Wearing a straw raincoat and bamboo hat, with trousers rolled up to his knees and cloth shoes in his hand, he rubbed his muddy feet against the threshold before finally entering the house.

He first drank a bowl of thin porridge, and after finishing, he took out an oil paper package from his pocket, peeled it open layer by layer, and inside was a cigarette box paper with dense pencil writing.

"Copied by the comrades at Shanghai Station."

Chen Zhan accepted it.

The Kuomintang's East China District sealed the case at the Yangtze River Estuary, classifying it as top secret. Internally, they claimed the perpetrators died in the bandit suppression operation, but externally, they denied the allegations.

Many branches of the Green Gang closed their doors, and key members fled south to Hong Kong and Southeast Asia.

"There's another message." The courier squatted on the threshold, wringing out the water from his trousers. "The military liaison in Shanghai is practically nonexistent. Jiangyin and Zhenjiang are reinforcing their troops, gunboats are patrolling the river, and the ferry crossings are being checked three times a day. They're about to make a move in the south, within the next month or two. If you want to cross the river, do it as soon as possible."

Chen Zhan held the cigarette box to the stove opening; a flicker of flame, and it was gone.

"Thank you, you've worked hard," Chen Zhan said.

The courier put on his raincoat and prepared to leave. Chen Zhan asked him if he wanted to eat before continuing, but he waved his hand, saying he still had two more stops to cover, and the heavy rain meant he could hurry on his way.

They came without asking any questions, and left without taking anything with them.

The itinerary was finalized that evening.

When Ye Ningzhen insisted on going, Chen Zhan didn't stop her. Her reason was quite reasonable: Lu Shouyi had spent half his life searching and found Bagua Sect items, a palmistry manual from the Guangxu era, and old items from the Dong family among the books in the Tiantai Mountain collection.

Ye Ningzhen finished her tea. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

The pass to leave the liberated area was issued by the district government, with a red stamp on the ink, and it said "visiting relatives".

Before crossing the blockade, change clothes at the transportation station.

The certificate of good citizenship was readily available, the photo was taken temporarily, the stamp was pressed over the corner, and the aging technique was very authentic. The name on the certificate was Zhou, a native of Ningbo, a rice shop accountant, who brought his wife to fulfill a vow. The wife's certificate read Zhou Ye Shi.

Ye Ningzhen held her ID card and looked at it. "That's convenient. I don't even need to change my surname."

Ye Ningzhen changed out of her gray cloth clothes and her appearance; she was no longer as pretty as before, but had become more charming.

She wore a blue cloth cheongsam, round-toed cloth shoes, her hair was tied up, a plain silver hairpin was pinned to her temple, and a string of sandalwood prayer beads adorned her wrist.

They disguised themselves as pilgrims fulfilling vows and went to Tiantai Mountain to offer incense.

Chen Zhan was dressed in a fine cloth long gown, a top hat, and carried an oil-paper umbrella.

Inside the bundle were incense, candles, and paper offerings, with several Buddhist scriptures on top. Lu Shouyi's few thread-bound books were wrapped in three layers of blue cloth and placed underneath. Forty silver dollars were sewn into his belt.

I also brought a bundle of legal tender for pocket money. The legal tender of 1946 had three different prices every day, and the shopkeepers would check the Yuan Shikai silver dollar first when taking money.

Before setting off, Chen Zhan tested her.

What does your man do for a living?

"The rice shop's accountant, in charge of receipts and payments." "Which rice shop?"

"Hengfeng Ship, north bank of the Yangtze River in Ningbo".

How many years have you been married?

"Eight years."

"What should I say if someone asks me on the street that I haven't had children in eight years?"

Ye Ningzhen choked, glared at him, "Just for this, you went to the rooftop to pray for a child and fulfill your vow? Humph, I made up such a complete story."

"Haha, not bad."

After taking a few steps, Chen Zhan shook his head again.

"The steps are wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"Walk through the mud, the soles of your feet land first, flat and level, forming a line. Ordinary women land on their heels first, with their center of gravity back, and their eyes looking three feet in front of their toes."

Ye Ningzhen followed his instructions and walked back and forth, feeling awkward all over. "Things that are ingrained in one's bones are so hard to change."

"And your shoulders, your shoulders are always relaxed, with your shoulders drooping and your elbows dropping. Experts can recognize that at a glance. Lift your shoulders up and put on a bit of a street-smart look."

Ye Ningzhen straightened her shoulders, walked over again, and looked him up and down.

"You're not much better. Your face, which looks like you're in your twenties, and those eyes, make you look like you ran away from being conscripted."

Chen Zhan agreed with her, so he changed his appearance again, making his cheekbones more prominent, and pulled his hat down to cover half of his face. "How about this?"

"Like those who ran away from conscription and still owe gambling debts."

Crossing the river at night.

The small steamer was packed with merchants and pilgrims, the air thick with the smells of fish, smoke, and sweat. Some were playing cards, while others were dozing off while holding cargo boxes.

The river was dark and murky, with the faint searchlights of gunboats visible upstream. A beam of white light swept across the water, past the gunboat's hull, and the sound of cards being played inside the cabin paused for a moment.
After the beam of light moved away, the game continued.

Ye Ningzhen sat by the window, her eyes lowered. In the brief moment the light swept across her, she counted her heartbeats, held her breath deep in her stomach, and relaxed her shoulders like an ordinary woman dozing off.
As the light passed, she opened her eyes, and Chen Zhan nodded slightly to her from across the room.

The real checkpoint is on the south bank.

A narrow path was enclosed by a bamboo fence. At the entrance to the path was a long table, behind which sat an adjutant, about thirty years old, with droopy eyelids. A kerosene lamp sat on the corner of the table.

Two soldiers leaned against the fence with their guns at the ready, their job being to rummage through the bundles.

The line is moving slowly.

A peddler ahead was detained. He had several bars of soap and a few packets of matches on his carrying pole. The soldier took a bar of soap from his pole, put it in his own pocket, and waved him off. The peddler bowed and scraped as if he had received a reward.

It was their turn.

The soldier unwrapped the bundle, and incense and candles rolled all over the ground. The paper horse had a broken leg. He turned to the Buddhist scriptures, threw them aside, and then his fingertips touched the blue cloth bundle.

Chen Zhan stepped forward, bowing and scraping, and handed over the cigarette along with the book in Ningbo Mandarin: "Sir, you've worked hard. These are scriptures we keep at home, blessed at a temple in the countryside. You mustn't touch them."

The cigarettes are the Lao Dao brand, a whole pack.

The soldier squeezed the thickness of the blue cloth bundle and looked back at his adjutant.

The adjutant raised his eyelids slightly. "Open it."

As the blue cloth was peeled back layer by layer, the thread-bound book was revealed. It was written on yellow paper with black characters in vertical format. On the spine were four characters: Dongxuan Lingbao.

The adjutant picked up a book, flipped through a couple of pages, recognized the characters, and his brow furrowed: "A Taoist scripture? Going to Tiantai to worship Buddha, bringing a Taoist scripture?"

Chen Zhan bent over and quickly replied, "Sir, people worship Buddha at Guoqing Temple on the mountain and worship gods at Tongbai Palace. Small business owners have to burn incense at both Buddhist and Taoist temples to have it all."

The adjutant stared at him.

Chen Zhan had a forced smile on his face, but his eyes were unfocused. He rubbed his hands together under the hem of his long robe. He looked like an accountant who had been frightened by the checkpoint. From his top hat to the soles of his shoes, there was not a single flaw to be found.

The silver dollars in the belt were digging into my waist through the fabric.

"Alright." The adjutant tossed the book back into his bundle. "Go on."

Ye Ningzhen bowed her head and tidied up, picking up the incense sticks one by one, straightening the paper horse, moving slowly, and curtsied before leaving.

The adjutant's gaze swept over her hands; her fingers were unharmed and calloused, fair and slender.

He paused for a moment, picked up the tea on the table, blew away the foam, and then remained silent.

The two crossed the fence one after the other and walked about half a mile before Ye Ningzhen spoke in a low voice: "He should have seen through something in that last glance."

"Yeah, it's nothing."

“If he had spoken, someone else would have been sitting behind the table by now.” Chen Zhan switched the umbrella to his other hand. “Only smart people can live long.”

We stopped to rest in town and ordered a bowl of plain noodles at a noodle shop. The price was written on a sign on the wall, with the numbers pasted on three layers of red paper. The price on the bottom layer was so high that even the flies on the wall didn't bother to stop.

At the next table, someone was reading from a newspaper. The editorial headline, "Central Plains Situation," took up half the page. The person reading shook their head, while the listener slurped their noodles.

No one can say for sure where the war will go, but everyone knows that noodles should be eaten while they're hot.

The railway is not a reliable route southward.

The Hangzhou-Ningbo Railway's roadbed was torn up during the war, and the bridge over the Cao'e River was bombed and remains unrepaired. The two men switched to an inland waterway boat, rowing their awning boat through the water network. The boatman, a man in his fifties, stood barefoot on the side of the boat, muttering all the way that this year's incense market was busier than in previous years.

"In times of war and chaos, the area in front of the Buddha is the most crowded."

Then they changed to another carriage. There was a slope ahead. Normally, a carriage would move very slowly, and you might even have to get off and push it. But unexpectedly, this carriage climbed the slope very quickly.

On the evening of the third day, we arrived at the border of Tiantai County.

As dusk settled, the silhouette of Huading Mountain loomed on the horizon, and the sound of bells echoed from the direction of Guoqing Temple at the foot of the mountain.

The inns in the county town were full of pilgrims, with bamboo signs hanging under the eaves indicating the names of pilgrimage groups from various places, such as Shaoxing, Ningbo, and Wenzhou.

Inside the main room, pilgrims gathered around the octagonal table, drinking tea and talking about things on the mountain.

"Tomorrow morning, we will be the first to offer incense; the gates of Guoqing Temple will open at dawn."

"Shall we go to Tongbai Palace?"

"Where to go? Tongbai Palace has been deserted these past few years. All the incense offerings have been taken by that altar on the mountainside. I heard they worship the Eternal Mother and even make vows after entering the Taoist path," the person said in a low voice. "I don't know if it's effective or not, but there are so many people."

Have you seen the Daoist master at the altar?

“Who has seen him? I heard he lived on the mountain for more than ten years. He went down the mountain to travel this spring and hasn’t come back yet. We leave a lamp on for him every night in the forum.”

In the corner, Chen Zhan held a teacup, without looking up.

Ye Ningzhen refilled his water, and the two sat facing each other without saying a word.

Nighttime, in the backyard of the inn.

Ye Ningzhen looked up along the mountainside and saw a single light on the side of Tongbai Palace halfway up the mountain.

As darkness fell, the light became even clearer, hanging forlornly in the shadows of the mountains.

The lamp that's lit every night.

"Lighting lamps late at night, in the Taoist tradition, means 'waiting for someone to return,'" Ye Ningzhen asked casually.

"I can't wait any longer."

As Chen Zhan gazed at the lights, his divine will silently spread out, enveloping the rooftops of the county town, flowing over the streams at the foot of the mountain, and ascending along the mountain path. Within a radius of about a mile, every detail of the grass rustling and insects chirping was clearly visible.

There is someone under the lamp.

His aura was concealed, blending into the mountain mist. His breathing was long and even, and his heartbeat was so slow that it was almost like a tortoise's breath. Even if an ordinary expert walked by with a lamp, he would not be able to detect it.

He is a top-notch master of cultivating inner energy, and a member of the Taoist sect.

The man sat on a stone bench by the lamp, his posture relaxed yet firm. In front of him was a stone table with a chessboard on it.

The score is incomplete; it wasn't finished. (End of Chapter)