Volume One: Youths Meet in Their Humble Beginnings Chapter Thirty-Four: Simple Souls Encounter Simple Souls

When Li Yu emerged from his deep contemplation, he found the Daoist gazing at him with a fervent, burning look. Feeling inexplicably scrutinized and not yet fully aware of what was happening, he heard the Daoist ask, full of excitement, “How did you discover the method for channeling qi?”

Li Yu paused to re-experience it, then replied, “At first, I couldn’t grasp it; it seemed the currents were entirely chaotic, surging left and right without pattern. But later, I stopped focusing on their overall flow and watched a single strand of qi. I realized that the so-called ‘channeling qi’ isn’t just one current moving through the body. Qi moves in all parts of the body, each following the same purpose or direction, giving the impression of a single stream coursing through.”

The Daoist nodded approvingly. “Excellent. That’s quite an insight. Yet, even so, it’s not enough to know how to channel the qi.”

Li Yu continued, “After observing one current, I sensed it was conveying an intention—like fire desires to burn, and water yearns to flow. The movement of the qi you taught me expresses its wish to break through the earth, filling me with a sense of burgeoning vitality. Then I observed other areas, and found that each current expressed something different. At that point, I was confused, because there were so many streams of qi, none sharing a unified purpose; they seemed each to go their own way.”

Hearing this, the Daoist felt even more pleased with his little trick at recruiting such a gifted disciple. Who else could have such perceptiveness but his own student?

“Finally,” Li Yu went on, “I suddenly remembered you said the essence of what you taught me is martial arts. If that’s the case, then surely a single will governs all. I thought, that will is only one throughout, though it manifests differently because each part has its own task—like spring, which brings forth all things. In that season, plants compete in beauty, sharing the colors of spring, but in truth, it’s simply the manifestation of vitality. Even the withered yellow leaves that drop in spring are making way for new green leaves, seemingly the end of life, but actually signaling new growth. In that instant, I discovered the qi in every part of my body suddenly became willing to move according to my intention, as if endowed with sentience. Though I didn’t understand why, I had an insight: they were willing to be used by me, to channel qi for me, until one day I truly understand what they wish to express.”

The Daoist beamed at Li Yu, praising him three times, “Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous.”

“I never expected you could see their essence so clearly. Yes, in the method of channeling qi in my sword techniques, there are three hundred and sixty Daoist qi strands, each with its own intention occupying a point in your body. To channel the qi, you must grasp their true meaning and gain their recognition. Unlike other martial arts, there’s no prescribed path for channeling qi. Only once you truly understand them, will they move on their own within your body, gradually revealing all their intentions to you, until you find that singular will.”

The Daoist explained further, “In fact, the root of martial arts is a kind of will—a force recognized by Heaven and Earth, forged by the practitioner. This will can be courage, ferocity, determination, or audacity; any quality manifesting in a person can be a martial will. Only when you find your own martial will, and it harmonizes with your skills, can you truly be said to have stepped onto the martial path.”

Li Yu looked at the Daoist and asked, “Master, what will do you wish to bestow upon the art you created?”

The Daoist gazed at the sunlight streaming through the leaves. “Honestly, I don’t know. The techniques passed down through generations have already been proven to require certain wills. For example, the sword arts I know each possess their own will—like ‘unstoppable advance,’ ‘contending for supremacy,’ or ‘daring to blaze a trail.’ These are powerful wills. But mine is a creation of my own, never practiced by anyone else, so I don’t know what will lies behind it.”

“But isn’t this your creation? Shouldn’t its will be yours?”

The Daoist laughed at himself. “Though I admit I’m strong, I’m not strong enough to bestow a martial will. In fact, all martial arts founders may begin with a certain will or idea, but the final outcome depends on the practitioner’s chosen path. For example, the path of fire can incinerate all things, or it can spread like wildfire. They seem different, but are essentially the same. Yet, to say they are the same is, in a way, also different.”

Li Yu now understood. “So, the path I take with the art you teach me depends on my character?”

“You could say that.” After hearing the Daoist’s response, Li Yu fell silent, and the Daoist teased him, “What’s wrong? Is it too difficult? Are you thinking of giving up?”

Li Yu, feeling uncertain, replied, “It’s not that I want to give up. I’m just wondering if your expectations for me are too high. I’m afraid I might not reach the heights you hope for, and you’ll be disappointed.”

The Daoist laughed heartily. “I never thought you’d lack confidence! From the moment I met you, you always seemed so assured, whether in cultivation or facing the phantom demon and mountain demon—you dared to rush in without regard for your life. And now you’re discouraged before even trying?”

Li Yu replied, dispirited, “This is different! I don’t know why you created this art, but you must have your reasons. I’m afraid I won’t fulfill your expectations.”

The Daoist brushed a fallen leaf off Li Yu, leaned against the tree trunk, his gaze wandering through the gaps in the leaves. “If you can’t do it, I doubt anyone else in the world could.” Then he turned to look at Li Yu, smiling, “So, just practice with peace of mind. Even if you don’t achieve what I hope, it’ll still benefit you. Besides, you’ll eventually cultivate the Dao. For now, I want you to practice martial arts so you’ll have another way to protect yourself.”

With this simple understanding reached, Li Yu stopped worrying. He resolved silently, whatever happens, he will do his utmost to walk the martial path. Though his master made no demands, he sensed the master’s yearning for an answer.

Despite the delay on the road, they arrived at Shen Tang’s home before mealtime. Even before entering, the Daoist laughed loudly at the fence, “What a fragrant braised fish! I could smell it from the courtyard.”

Shen Tang’s father hurried out from the inner room, his face full of smiles. “We were just wondering why the master hadn’t come yet, and here you are! Clearly your Daoist arts are becoming more profound—you can’t escape our thoughts.” As he spoke, he ushered them inside.

The Daoist laughed, “No matter how profound my Daoist arts become, I still can’t do without your family’s cooking. Clearly, your food surpasses my skills.”

Shen Tang’s father replied, “Since you say so, you should eat more this time. Come often—though I fear you’re so busy, today here, tomorrow elsewhere.”

The Daoist, not to be outdone, seized the opportunity, “If you say that, I’ll have my disciple treat your home as his own. When I’m not here, let him come eat and drink with you.”

Shen Tang’s father laughed, “Why not? He’s just a child—how much can he eat? Even if he’s a hearty eater, as long as he’s your disciple, he’s my nephew. Whenever he wants, as long as I have food, he’ll never go hungry.”

When they entered the house and Shen Tang’s father saw the child beside the Daoist, he greeted him warmly, “This must be your disciple. He looks adorable—far more polite than my girl.”

Li Yu glanced at the Daoist, as if asking how he should greet him. The Daoist pretended not to notice, and Shen Tang’s father said, “Just call me Uncle Shen.”

Li Yu politely greeted him, and as he spoke, a middle-aged woman emerged from the kitchen, holding a ladle, laughing and scolding, “Shen Big Dog, are you daft? You haven’t served tea to the master, yet you’re promising him food and drink in the future. You can’t even spare a bowl of tea for him now!”

“Yes, yes, my fault. I was too busy chatting with the master—shame on me, shame on me.”

As they spoke, the two brought out tea bowls for the Daoist and Li Yu. The woman said, “The master has been away so long. My son keeps asking about you, hoping you’ll take him up the mountain.”

The Daoist laughed, “I miss that little rascal too. Without him playing and joking in front of me, my days out are far less entertaining.”

He took the tea and asked, “Will he be home for lunch today?”

The woman replied, “He’s eating at the academy today, won’t be back until evening.” Then she brought out a plate of candied fruits for Li Yu, smiling kindly, “Have some sweet fruit to tide you over.”

Li Yu quickly stood to thank her. The woman, observing his manners and bearing, couldn’t help but feel that he was exceptionally polite—except for those unusual eyes.

In truth, she and Shen Lang, and all those who greeted the Daoist, had noticed Li Yu’s extraordinary eyes from the start. But their minds were honest and simple; they knew what to say and what not to say, and showed no strange expressions. To them, he was just a child like any other. So his eyes were different—so be it.

Thus, Li Yu felt comfortable with them. At least he knew these people wouldn’t treat him as the villagers of Hongquan had, shunning him for his unusual eyes, seeing him as a monster to be feared, or displaying curiosity, sympathy, avoidance, or indifference.

After all, what he wanted was always nothing more than ordinary treatment.