In the Great Zhu Empire, there is an abundance of geniuses. Individuals who would be regarded as eagles in other parts of the empire, or a mere ten years ago, were as common as dirt in Lin’an. Due to the density of talents, it is even more enticing for the commoners to gossip who’s stronger than who. Among these hearsays commonly heard among restaurants and inns, the most famous would no doubt be the list of Xinqingnian (新靑年).

The list itself was composed by the mysterious and unfathomable Xianzi (先知) Pavilions, a secret organisation with influence stretching from Lin’an to the Yuelin (月林) in the South. Their connections were truly impressive, as on the Xinqingnian included the obscure figure of the successor to the Zijin (紫金) sect, Ming Haoran (明昊然), the secret bastard son of the Ximo (西魔) sect leader, Hong Ling (紅靈) and countless other previously unknown youths.

Naturally, many figures were only known through their association with the older generation or the prestige of their sect. Immediately after the Xinqingnian was published, the legitimacy of the ranking quickly became a widespread topic among commoners and even some noble households. Particularly contentious was the ranking for swordsmanship, whom Ming Haoran had topped, with Hong Ling closely following at second.

Supposedly, an admirer of Hong Ling, seeing him fall second to Ming Haoran, had committed suicide upon learning of this list, adding further controversy on this topic.

The situation for boxing, knifesmanship, spearmanship and whatnot, were not far behind the extremities compared to the list of swordsmen, with their own share of fanaticism and controversy. On the list, it could be said that only one person firmly had both feet firmly in the first place. The field is marksmanship and its undisputed master among the younger generation was Jing Wen.

That is, until his eyesight was lost.

Were it any other field, perhaps being visionless, would result in the drop of twenty-odd places, as all martial artists had heightened senses, and many experts would train to fight in lightness conditions.

However, archery was far different. You can rely on neither touch nor smell, and hearing is inadequate were the target far away. After the loss of his vision, Jing Wen was dropped from the list entirely, and a wandering martial artist by the name of Qi Qi (七期) took the mantle.

At first, many individuals believed that even with his vision lost, Jing Wen could regain a high ranking on another field - after all, he was a genius not seen in a hundred years. Who would have known that Jing Wen was so disturbed by the loss of his parents that he lost his cultivation, forcing him to retire back to his ancestral village, and disappeared completely before even reaching the age of eighteen?

On the day that he had announced this, more than a dozen admirers had killed themselves, causing the ranking of marksmanship to overnight, become the most controversial field of the Xinqingnian.

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The turmoil his departure caused never reached Jing Wen. He was currently facing the courtyard of his residency. His legs were dangling from the platform he sat off, barely not disturbing the tranquil surface of the small lake running beneath it and the carps swimming within.

Without turning his head, he said, “Jing An, do we have any books on the flow of Qi?”

Jing An replied from his side, “Of course young master. Your father’s collection of books is rivalled only by the imperial library. There is the ‘Wushi'er Bingfang’, ‘Huangdi Neijing’, ‘Shennong Ben Cao Jing’, ‘Nan Jing’, ‘Shang Han Lun’, ‘Maijing’ and a dozen others.

Hearing the names of these classics, Jing Wen recalled much of their content and realised aside from the ‘Wushi'er Bingfang’, none of them had the contents he desired. He said after some time, “Read-out the notes I had made on ‘Wushi'er Bingfang’ in the 13th year of Yong.

Hearing this, Jing An stood up and entered the residency. As she had said earlier, Jing Ping had indeed kept a vast collection, which both she and Jing Wen had read and written notes over their earlier days. Although Jing Wen did not have the disposition of a scholar, he inherited his father’s excellent organisation skills, and would always keep the notes he had written in boxes based on the year. As such, it did not take long for Jing An to find the notes and return to the courtyard.

She gazed at the page in her hands than the profile of her blind young master. She said after a moment of silence, “Young Master, your calligraphy is really good, but you wrote only ‘the ancients know not of Yin and Yang nor of the Five Elements’... no wonder the old master had punished you so harshly that day.”

Jing Wen cocked his head. The white cloth hid the emotions that flashed through his eyes when Jing An had spoken of his father’s discipline. He eventually said cooly, “The book talks mostly about specific medical prescriptions. Since we have a renowned physician attending to us at the time, I saw no need to be specific. The only significant part of the novel should then be what I’ve written, and a few incantations.”

Jing An sighed, thinking that if Jing Wen’s notes were somewhat more extensive, he would have been both skilled at the pen and the sword. She stood up, preparing to bring back her own notes on the ‘Wushi'er Bingfang’. But suddenly, Jing Wen held up his unfolded palm, causing her to stop her actions.

To him, this single sentence was enough. His purpose in asking Jing An the circulation classics in their library was due to the matters regarding the little Taoist and lady Zhi, particularly, the Qi that flows through one’s meridian channels.

What his writing on the notes expressed was not any form of disdain for the ancients, but rather an understanding he had come to after a long period of thought after reading the classic. In present, the theory of Qi was that it was separated into Yin and Yang, which is further split into the five elements - fire, earth, metal, water and wood. Martial arts is then the act of balancing these forces, enhancing the quality of the Qi within one’s body to achieve things near impossible for the human body.

However, the ancients had a completely different theory. Compared to the delicate nature of martial arts nowadays, they viewed Qi more akin to how one would see firewood. As long as there is enough of it, it burns. In that sense, it was a very simple and crass method, leaving the balance of the body a mess, and would frequently explode, greatly harming the cultivator.

Zhou Aimin’s comment on the increasingly calm nature of his Qi had indeed made Jing Wen think about many things. Looking at this note, he realised the reason behind his inability to circulate Qi was because, after the loss of his vision, he was no longer able to manage the balance of the wood element of his Qi, causing it to become unstable. What Zhou Aimin said that his Qi was calm after a month in seclusion was true, but behind the tranquil surface was an undercurrent of turbulence.

Of course, simply being aware of this matter was not enough. The obvious solution to his problem was to cultivate like the ancients, but it is far simpler said than done.

Talent in the contemporary Way of Qi does not mean he will have equal talent in the Way of the ancients. If anyone found out a path that can finally lead them out of the sorry state Jing Wen had been trapped in, only to realise that the way was actually blocked by a mountain, how devastated they would be. Not only that, but the chances of all his Qi becoming beyond his control, and destroying his mind and spirit was a very likely occurrence.

Jing Wen extended his feet into the cold lake, causing the carps gathering beneath him to scatter, seemingly pushed by the ripples formed. He turned towards Jing An and requested, “Bring a stick of mind-cleansing incense.

---

Rubbing the incense stick intensively, Jing Wen compensated his lack of sight by feel. The incense stick had a fine grain and was thin and fragile - as if about to bend at any moment under the force of his fingers. It gave off a pleasant aroma even without burning, a bit like sweet fruit, but only when burnt, will its’ true essence and effect reveal itself.

Jing Wen made a thought, and the incense stick’s tip lit aflame. This technique was called ‘Flame at Thought’, and was often the first technique taught to martial artists and other cultivators, but while it was convenient, most regarded it as absolutely rude and respectful were it to be used on anyone other than oneself.

Immediately, Jing Wen felt the wondrous effect of the incense. Sticking it into a holder, Jing Wen did not change to a conventional meditation position but simply allowed his feet to remain in the water, and his arm supporting his leaned posture. Only his eyes were closed, not visionless, but truly closed behind that layer of white cloth.

The world around him at this moment immediately began to change. The changes were most obvious in the snow around him, which began to tremble faintly, as if excited by something. Then, the smoke of the incense began to quiver, swaying like a snake slithering through an endless desert, it

At this moment, a carp jumped out of the water. Leaping over a willow branch, it’s thick body accidentally, or perhaps intentionally, slapped against an unsuspecting stonefly, causing it to drop into the water. Fly through the air, a bead of water landed on the willow branch, wiping away the snow that gathered on the arm. Faintly, a hint of purple could be seen budding from that spot.

As the carp returned to the lake, ripple so small not even the human eye could see was created. It spread outwards, eventually touching Jing Wen.

Not a moment later, the purple flower withered before it could bloom, the incense smoke became straight, and the snow reverted to a lazy state.

Jing Wen’s face first became pale like the snow, then scarlet red the next second. Shifting between the two phases, Jing Wen’s mouth was forced open, and a mouthful of blood came out.

This series of events happened so quickly that only when the blood was dissolving in the water did Jing An realise Jing Wen had failed. She promptly searched in her sleeves, only to realise she had not brought any medication as she did not expect him to fail.

Jing Wen coughed into his sleeves, before waving his other hand. He said, “I am fine. The Qi was merely interrupted, not reversed… after resting for half a sichen, I will be fine.”

Jing Wen had been cultivating since the age of six. Aside from the freaks that began circulating Qi in their mother’s wombs, no one can start earlier than that. For that reason, he was familiar with the consequence of failing to properly circulate Qi, and knew that while having his Qi interrupted was a painful process, it does not do any harm.

After twelve years of cultivation, how could they not know? Even an idiot by now would have realised how to circulate Qi with a failure rate of nearly zero per cent.

For anyone to fail at this would be akin to a fish failing to swim, or a bird not knowing how to fly. It was not only extremely humiliating, but so atrocious it was impressive.

But for Jing Wen, figuring a way out of his current state of destitution was already enough. Although he had been humiliated and oppressed the past month, the pride of a lion is entrenched within their bones. Jing Wen was confident that, with enough time, he should be able to recover a portion of his former strength.

Even if he lacked any talents, he would simply move that mountain, a single stone at a time.

Thinking about this, the massive weight he felt on his shoulders lightened by the tiniest fraction, and the cold water that submerged his feet felt a little warm.