Times Have Changed

In truth, this attributed too much to Du Ruo. The reason he could drink so much was that his body was somewhat depleted, and with the circulation and protection of that mysterious "Qi" within him, he was able to down more than a jin of specially brewed medicinal wine in one sitting.

...

The next morning, Du Ruo rose early, preparing to head up the mountain. Before leaving, he caught sight of the kiwifruits Yang Chenguang had brought him the day before. After a moment's thought, he tucked a few into his pocket. These fruits, picked in advance and left to ripen for several days, were now fully sweet. Having tasted the monkey’s nectarines last time, he thought it only right to bring some fruit as an offering in return.

But before setting out, Du Ruo made his way to the front desk of the guesthouse. It was still early, the reception area deserted. He stepped onto the scale and watched the numbers flicker: 136. Du Ruo was quite satisfied—the tonic and beef from the previous day had clearly taken effect. Still, he couldn’t afford to relax; he needed to continue this regimen. For a martial artist like himself, reaching 180 pounds would be no issue. It seemed his body truly had reached its redline the day before.

Of course, gaining five pounds in a single day was also due to his robust organs and the “Qi” coursing within him. For an ordinary person, such gluttony would be courting death. After the meal, his body had directed all its energy toward absorbing the tonics and beef, which also explained why he’d grown so drowsy afterward.

After weighing himself, Du Ruo jogged up toward the mountain.

This time, his ascent differed from the previous two; he simply wanted to move his body. Every martial artist harbors a certain aggression—a destructive urge that grows with skill and physical strength. Seeing a sandbag, one instinctively wants to throw a punch. Witnessing injustice, the urge to intervene is overpowering. This muscle-driven impulse can momentarily suppress reason, making violence the first answer to any problem.

Du Ruo’s own aggression was mild. The Xingyi Five Elements Fist he practiced aligned closely with nature. That was why, when he’d confronted the man seeking Li Qiyao two days before, he could stop at just the right moment, maintaining perfect control.

Yet to say he was free of aggression would be untrue. Climbing the mountain, embracing nature, gazing into the distance—these were ways to ease his emotions and release that inner tension.

This time, as he moved swiftly up the path, his steps were more leisurely and measured. When faced with branches or thorns, he dodged instead of forcing through. The first climb had been a test of endurance; the second, of practical fighting skills and lightness techniques. This time, he focused on movement and perception.

With each ascent, Du Ruo gained more, his progress rapid.

Thanks to repeated infusions of skills and knowledge, Du Ruo had gained deep insights into traditional martial arts. Many practitioners of Xingyi Fist fixated only on the Iron Mountain Lean or the Half-Step Crushing Fist, seeking moves proven deadly in combat. They dreamed of perfecting these techniques so they could end a fight with a single blow.

But after acquiring knowledge of acupoints from his hidden weapon studies, Du Ruo realized just how fragile the human body was. When he’d faced the Sanda champion in the tavern, the strength and technique he’d used could have been employed by any ordinary person, yet he’d easily knocked the man out.

Times had changed. No longer the chaos of the late Qing era, one no longer faced only strongmen but modern high-tech weapons. His weakness the day before had only underscored this truth: the human body is frail. Now, Du Ruo yearned for transcendence, for physical evolution, even—perhaps—for immortality.

It was a transformation of the mind. Only a month had passed since he’d acquired his golden finger and extracted martial skills; in that brief time, his mindset had shifted from that of an ordinary man.

He looked forward to whatever changes the system might bring him next.

Reaching the summit took him only fifteen minutes this time; compared to his earlier, bedraggled attempts, he found the climb effortless and barely broke a sweat.

Beneath the great pine, he searched for the monkey he’d seen last time, but it was nowhere to be found.

"It seems that monkey’s appearance was a fluke. It makes sense—they prefer the higher altitudes."

Not finding the monkey didn’t disappoint him. He hadn't planned to stop, but intended to continue climbing. The exhilarating chase with the monkey last time had left him craving more.

The climb so far was just a warm-up; now, the real training would begin.

Glancing back through the branches toward the tea fields below, he saw no one working. Only then did he turn and run deeper into the mountains.

He’d run into Uncle Yang twice before; he had no desire for another misunderstanding—mainly for fear word would reach his parents back in Dujia Village.

He let loose, running, leaping, climbing, moving with astonishing speed through the mountain terrain. When he reached a gully, he darted like a dragon; on an incline, he bounded like a tiger; faced with a cliff, he climbed in the manner of a monkey. Sometimes he used both hands and feet, executing the twelve forms of Xingyi and the techniques of the Natural School to perfection.

Mount Huang is famed for its bizarre rocks and ancient pines. To move at such speeds in these mountains is fraught with danger.

Fortunately, Du Ruo’s physical strength was remarkable. Even as he focused on the changes in power when using the twelve animal forms, each step was sure and stable. The lightness skill of the Natural School honed lower-body stability and balance, allowing him to move through the forest as though swimming in water.

Soon, Du Ruo saw the massive boulder where he’d parted ways with the monkey last time.

Tap, tap—

He drew closer to the boulder, not slowing his pace. As he reached it, he exerted force with his foot and sprang into the air, using a protrusion midway up the boulder to push off twice, then a third time, rising nearly three meters—his feet level with the very top.

"Damn!"

He’d intended to land gracefully atop the boulder, but as he glanced over, he saw something sprawled there. When he realized what it was, he couldn’t help but curse aloud.

But he was still airborne, and that expletive had sapped his energy. With a three-meter drop behind him, if he lost momentum and fell backward, even with his current physical prowess, he might not survive unscathed.

There was no choice. He couldn’t adjust his position mid-air; he could only land straight where he was headed.

"Miaow!"

Atop the boulder, an adult clouded leopard had been lazily basking in the morning sun. Suddenly, Du Ruo descended from the sky, and it seemed he was about to land directly on the animal. If he did, the clouded leopard would surely be crushed to death.