Chapter 7: Extraordinary Comprehension

The moment the name “Li Jichang” was spoken, the smile on Li Ji'an’s face deepened. Today, he had registered under his real name, “Li Ji'an,” and the other seven instructors had all just seen his roster. Yet, not a single one of them had shown any reaction. Wu Cheng, however, recalled almost instantly the person he had been in his previous life.

“Li Jichang? Who is that? The name sounds a little familiar.” One of the instructors, prompted by Wu Cheng’s words, tried to remember.

“I don’t have any impression,” another replied.

“Xiao Wu, is he perhaps a descendant of an old friend of yours?”

Wu Cheng glanced at his colleagues. Seeing they truly seemed to have no recollection, he said indifferently, “He was the one you all used to call ‘Old Li the Crooked.’”

In his previous life, during his ten years at the Martial Academy, aside from the gatekeeper, Old Master Huang, Instructor Wu, and that little fellow who mocked him relentlessly, nearly everyone called him “Old Li the Crooked.” It was because, in his past life, he had suffered mutilation at the hands of those brutes, leaving one arm deformed and bent outward.

“What?”

“Descendant of Old Li the Crooked?”

“Is that so...?”

“Now that you mention it, there really is a resemblance in the eyes and brows.”

“Could he be Old Li’s son?”

“By the way, isn’t it five years since Old Li disappeared?”

In any case, Li Ji'an had been something of a figure at the Martial Academy in his former life. The revelation immediately sparked a heated discussion.

“Did that old fellow truly manage to raise a genius?” Old Wan was momentarily dazed. He still remembered once asking Old Li, “Given your state, what’s the point of practicing martial arts anymore?”

Old Li had only smiled, unconcerned: “Of course there’s a point. I may be untalented and destined for little success, but perhaps, through martial practice, I can improve the bloodline for my descendants. Generation by generation, who knows, perhaps one day a gifted child will be born.”

“How did Old Li end up with such a handsome son?” Soon, some apprentices of the Martial Academy were drawn over, surrounding Li Ji'an and scrutinizing him closely.

“Are you really Old Li’s son?”

“Why did Old Li stop coming to the Academy? Did he give up?”

Li Ji'an merely smiled at all their questions and said nothing.

“All right, whether you’re related or not doesn’t matter anymore. Come with me,” Wu Cheng realized his careless words might have caused trouble for Li Ji'an and, not pressing further, quickly led him away.

Li Ji'an nodded and followed closely behind.

“Heh, Old Li spent half his life practicing and barely scratched the surface of the martial path, and now he’s sent his son here as well?”

“Tsk, tsk. Just like his father—unwanted by anyone, so he can only become Instructor Wu’s apprentice.”

“My father always said, ‘A hero begets a hero, a fool begets a fool; Old Li never amounted to anything, so how good could his son possibly be?’”

Behind them, a group of apprentices whispered among themselves.

After bringing Li Ji'an to his own teaching area, Wu Cheng looked at him, forcing a smile that was somewhat awkward. “Don’t listen to their nonsense. Old Li was truly impressive back in the day—he had already surpassed all expectations. Before him, who would have imagined someone starting martial arts at thirty could reach the Perfection of Skin-Refinement?”

“That’s why, in the martial path, it’s never too late to begin. Talent only determines your ceiling, not your floor. Even if you can’t hope to be a champion, practicing martial arts can still strengthen your body. More importantly, don’t compare yourself with others. Just do your best.”

Li Ji'an bowed respectfully. “I will remember your teachings, Instructor.”

In this world, the martial path consisted of external and internal training. External training focused on techniques and skills for combat and killing; internal training refined energy and blood, tempering the body—refining skin, strengthening flesh, forging bones, changing blood, cleansing marrow, and refining organs—ultimately transforming the body so that energy and blood surged like a dragon.

Yet, external martial arts required internal cultivation as a foundation. Otherwise, it was difficult to execute techniques properly, and even if executed, the power and speed would be lacking, rendering them no more than mere flowery moves.

Moreover, the martial path here was said to be a gift from the Immortals. Before their arrival, there was no superhuman strength—martial arts were merely physical techniques and routines, not something that could enable one to fight many at once.

The Immortals had only bestowed internal cultivation—methods to refine energy and blood and grant superhuman physiques. The most common was the “Golden Strength Art,” practiced by all, but no external techniques were granted.

Internal cultivation could make one strong, transforming the body so that skin became like gold, bones like jade, impervious to blades and spears. As for external techniques, over the past century only a few extraordinary martial masters had pieced together methods to harness and utilize internal energy. These were closely guarded secrets, rarely shared, with the court holding the most.

Ordinary martial artists at the bottom had little chance to learn such arts.

In his previous two lives, Li Ji'an had both practiced martial arts, but only the internal art—the “Golden Strength Art.” As for external skills, in his first life, the local dojo master had invented a punch sequence that barely qualified as a method.

Judging by the Perfection of Skin-Refinement he achieved in his second life, that punch sequence was hardly different from having no technique at all; it was the strength and speed gained from internal training that mattered.

A month later, Li Ji'an had thoroughly grasped the foundation stances and formally began cultivating the “Golden Strength Art.”

Internal cultivation lay in refining energy and blood, using the movement of tendons and bones coordinated with breathing techniques to temper the body. If the tendons and bones were not fully developed, the risk of injury—damaged tendons or broken bones—was high. Thus, before the age of thirteen, Li Ji'an had only practiced the movements and postures.

Even before practicing the “Golden Strength Art,” one had to solidify the foundation with stance training, which also required fully developed tendons and bones.

In his previous life, entering the Martial Academy at thirty, it took him half a year to barely master just the basic stances.

Reflecting on the difference, Li Ji'an concluded that, aside from the experience of having mastered the stances in a previous life, the main reason was his robust bones and tendons in this life, as well as the enhanced perception that came with stronger spirit.

After all, stance training was not rigid and unchanging, nor merely about correct postures—it had to be adapted to one’s own physique, with subtle differences unique to every individual and only personally comprehended.

If one grasped it correctly, the foundation would be laid quickly; otherwise, it might take an eternity, making true internal cultivation impossible.

“Such remarkable perception?” Many were amazed when they learned Li Ji'an had mastered the stance training so quickly.

Ma Yuan, gazing at the “genius” he had originally tried to recruit, felt his eyelid twitch.

Over the past month, Qingyun had not even completed the seventy-two basic stances. With his sly intelligence, it was hard to tell if he truly lacked understanding or was simply not applying himself.

“No matter, no matter. Perception isn’t everything—what’s most important is the foundation. As long as the foundation is good, even with poor understanding, another month should suffice. Once internal cultivation begins, those with strong foundations far surpass the rest.” Ma Yuan tried to console himself.

At the same time, he decisively abandoned his initial intention to offer Li Ji'an access to the Academy’s exclusive medicinal baths.

If the student taught by Instructor Wu outshone his own, especially since the one he selected was supposed to be more talented, it would reflect poorly on his own reputation.

Clearly, many had already begun comparing Li Ji'an and Qingyun, and quite a few looked forward to seeing him embarrassed.

“Am I really going to let Old Li’s son upstage me?”

That very night, Ma Yuan, determined to turn things around, paid out of his own pocket to move Qingyun from the apprentice dorms to a small courtyard next to his own, resolved to teach him personally.