Volume One: Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter Forty-One: Martial Arts

Why did His Majesty the Emperor always seem to have a bias against him, always finding fault? He hadn’t even spirited away the Emperor’s daughter yet, and even if he did, what could the Emperor do about it?

Wang Chuan was just about to leave the palace, feeling somewhat dejected. He was nearly of age, and most people his age were already married and established, yet he remained alone. Sometimes, he longed to experience what others did; perhaps it would grant him new insights into martial cultivation.

In the path of self-cultivation, there was the saying: “Law, companion, wealth, and land.” ‘Companion’ meant a partner—sometimes someone to cultivate and help each other with, like classmates who studied together. Sometimes, it meant a life companion.

“Wang Chuan, Wang Chuan…” A voice called from behind. The princess suddenly ran out, catching up to him.

“What is it? Why are you rushing about again?” Wang Chuan smiled.

Xu Wei stuck out her tongue. “Are you heading out?”

“Yes,” Wang Chuan nodded.

“I want to go out and have fun too,” Xu Wei said.

“I don’t enjoy playing. I’m going home to practice martial arts. You should stay in the palace and not run around,” Wang Chuan told her.

“Learning martial arts is so boring. I’m always bad at it,” Xu Wei frowned.

“Even so, you should stay in the palace. Don’t follow me, and don’t stray too far from home. Your parents will worry. Be good,” Wang Chuan said.

“Will you come back to see me? Will you take me out to play again?” Xu Wei looked at him with wide, expectant eyes.

“I will,” Wang Chuan nodded helplessly.

“Really?” Xu Wei brightened.

“Really. I’ve never lied to you, have I?” Wang Chuan said earnestly.

Xu Wei nodded. “Alright, I’ll believe you. By the way, what did my mother say to you just now?”

She was terribly curious.

“She just asked if I could take good care of you,” Wang Chuan looked at her and smiled. “When I’ve taken care of my affairs, shall I ask your father for your hand in marriage?”

“Ah?” Xu Wei was stunned, her face instantly flushing scarlet.

“Think it over yourself—whether you want to be with me,” Wang Chuan laughed.

“I… I don’t know…” Xu Wei murmured, blushing.

“Take your time to think,” Wang Chuan smiled again.

“Wang Chuan, you must remember to come back for me…” Xu Wei said.

“Alright, I will.” Wang Chuan promised her seriously, and suddenly stepped forward and hugged her.

Xu Wei froze. She’d been about to dodge, but he was too swift.

“Thank you. I’ve never really had friends before. I feel relaxed and happy when I’m with you,” Wang Chuan said sincerely.

Xu Wei stiffened, wrinkling her nose. “I heard girls shouldn’t let just anyone hug them…”

“Says who? Don’t mind them. Don’t you like it when I hug you?” Wang Chuan asked.

“It’s not that—it just feels so strange,” Xu Wei wrinkled her nose again.

“I’ll go now,” Wang Chuan patted her back.

“Mm. Wang Chuan, do you really think of us as friends?” Xu Wei asked.

“Of course, we’re good friends, aren’t we?” Wang Chuan smiled.

“Mm, we’re good friends,” Xu Wei nodded.

Silly girl, so naive even after being taken advantage of.

Wang Chuan gave her a playful tap on her behind, then turned and left.

This time, he was truly gone.

Slap—

Xu Wei’s face flushed crimson, a strange feeling welling up inside her.

She stared after him, watching as his figure gradually receded. She stamped her foot, watching him disappear through the palace gate.

Wang Chuan left the imperial city, his thoughts swirling. He vaulted onto a windowsill, his toes lightly touching down.

He passed through the streets, moving slowly, without purpose.

What was Yang Hao doing outside? He sensed Yang Hao’s presence beyond the city, alone. He considered going to find him, but then felt Yang Hao returning, and so went home instead.

Soon, he saw Yang Hao riding back, drenched in sweat, purpose unknown.

Wang Chuan sat by the window, sipping tea, eyes closed, listening intently. Between heaven and earth, it was as if he could hear the sound of melting snow. There was the wind, the thriving growth of all things—life endlessly renewing.

“Your Highness…” Yang Hao greeted him.

Wang Chuan nodded and gestured for him to sit opposite.

“I wish to cultivate a higher level of martial arts,” Yang Hao said.

He quietly recounted the details of the earlier gathering and his own reflections.

Wang Chuan listened silently, occasionally nodding.

At last, Wang Chuan spoke. “The path of martial arts has no end. Perhaps I’ll never reach the summit. Among the countless who climb, I only wish to climb high enough, to give my all, to reach whatever peak I can attain.”

“To stand atop Mount Tai and see the world as small, to have seen the vast sea and find all other waters wanting,” Wang Chuan smiled, agreeing.

He too had once been that way. After glimpsing those supreme realms, he could never again regard the common masses below.

It was like drinking tea from precious porcelain—how could one ever return to the crude bowls sold for a penny on the street?

“When I was making my way in foreign lands, I once heard a story,” Wang Chuan mused. “In ancient times, there was a man named Dong Guochang, who had amassed great wealth and harbored lofty ambitions. His disciple, poor and desperate, sought help, but Dong Guochang refused, declaring, ‘I intend to save up ten thousand gold pieces, then use my wealth to seek office in the capital.’ Afterwards, people said he cherished riches not yet in hand, yet refused to save a starving disciple—such was heartlessness. In the end, Dong Guochang achieved his fortune and obtained office, but when he returned home, his people showed him no respect…”

“Dong Guochang was a man of misplaced priorities,” Wang Chuan added.

“Yes,” Yang Hao nodded. “My friendship with you, Your Highness, is one I would entrust with everything.”

Yang Hao was the kind who would give his all to help a friend.

That had always been his pride and glory.

“I don’t see it that way,” Wang Chuan suddenly shook his head.

Yang Hao’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been about to sip his tea, but his hand trembled, spilling it on his clothes.

He looked at Wang Chuan in surprise. “Your Highness…”

“Charity given with disdain should not be accepted. Thus, as Heaven moves with strength, a gentleman must constantly strive for self-improvement. If a healthy man of sound limbs cannot survive without begging, what hope is there? You, Yang Hao, have come this far by your own efforts. I may have been born above many, but I must strive to guard what I have. That’s why we work so hard—to rise above others and maintain our positions, not to become supplicants.”

“Your words are wise, Your Highness. I will remember them,” Yang Hao said solemnly.

Wang Chuan then spoke about his pursuit of the youth in blue.

He’d met the young man.

“He told me his name—he is the youngest son of Long Junyi, Long Kuang,” Yang Hao said, pausing to look at Wang Chuan.

“The son of Marquis Huaiting. I just saw the marquis earlier,” Wang Chuan recalled. “It seems the Prince of Yan deliberately sent his son to suppress the other’s arrogance, so those with ulterior motives would reconsider. I sense he’s not in the Yan Prince’s faction and is loyal to the Lord of Yu.”

Wang Chuan had only met him once, but understood enough.

Yang Hao nodded eagerly. He could see the implications, even if the other didn’t grasp all the interests at play. “When he told me he was Marquis Huaiting’s son, I understood immediately—he was there to upstage the prince’s heir. And he seems rather taciturn, not much for words. I think he’s a martial arts fanatic. As far as I know, the marquis’s youngest son has been studying under renowned teachers since childhood, and few in Yu know him—he’s extremely low-key. If not for the marquis sending him this time, perhaps…”

“Such a person is interesting,” Wang Chuan nodded. “A true martial arts fanatic. That’s good.”

“He seems to admire you, Your Highness,” Yang Hao added.

“Let it be. If he wishes to see me, he’s welcome anytime. I welcome all who wish to sit and discuss the Dao,” Wang Chuan said.

He walked the righteous and broad path—if there were those who wished to walk beside him, so be it.

“I’ll go practice now,” Yang Hao bid farewell.

If Yang Hao applied himself in martial arts, Wang Chuan would be quite pleased.

Lately, even his business had been delegated out; he might lose eighty or a hundred thousand taels of silver.

No matter.

He wanted to become strong.

Returning to his small courtyard, Yang Hao opened the martial arts manual Wang Chuan had given him.

In his mind, vivid little figures appeared, demonstrating the techniques.

These figures were robust, their muscles taut, their fists like iron, shoulders broad and powerful, brimming with endless energy.

“His Highness’s realm grows ever more unfathomable,” Yang Hao thought with admiration. He had no idea how Wang Chuan managed to project these images into his mind.

Across the little figures, their acupoints and meridians were clearly marked, with diagrams showing how to circulate energy.

There were also small annotations with various cultivation methods.

Even a child could follow the step-by-step instructions.

His foundation wasn’t deep, but after cultivating, his mind became sharper and his wisdom blossomed.

The immense benefits of cultivation were obvious.

He realized that cultivating was one of the best investments.

“His Highness has already paved a broad, smooth path for me. Even so, I must forge my own understanding—that is my true martial way! I can’t just follow blindly.”

Now, when Yang Hao read other martial texts, he saw them from a higher perspective; nothing seemed too profound.

But he didn’t rush to train—he absorbed, contemplated, and finally integrated what he learned.

He took the best from each, seeking true meaning.

He refined the knowledge of martial arts in his mind, letting it settle and crystallize, gaining endless benefit.

It was as if warm sunshine suffused his being, martial intent sinking into him like gentle rain.

In his mind, sparks flared and flickered.

He circulated his energy several times, feeling his tendons and bones surge with power.

True qi coursed through his meridians—sometimes drifting like autumn leaves, sometimes surging like a mighty river, sometimes bursting forth like dawn’s first light, sometimes crashing down like a comet shaking the earth.

There was hardness and softness, blending together, reaching the pinnacle. His spirit was as pure as snow.

He reached out toward a table and chair. With a crack, they shattered instantly—splintered to dust.

“Moving, grappling, driving the flow of energy—with a single strike, not only can I rend muscle and bone, but even tear a person apart. Legend has it this skill has the strength to capture dragons. This must be the true power of the Dragon Seizing Claw!” Yang Hao was filled with awe. “If His Highness used it, how great would its power be?”

Compared to Wang Chuan, he was a mere spark before the sun and moon.

The higher he climbed in martial arts, the more profound Wang Chuan’s realm seemed—an existence that inspired awe.

A tiny light revering the vastness of the sun and moon.

Exerted to the utmost, martial arts brought about a trance—the soul leaving the body, as if seeing the world as a vast furnace, all beings refined within. Those who transcended became the essence, while most became dross, sinking to oblivion.

“No wonder the ancients said, ‘Heaven and earth are a furnace, creation the craftsman, yin and yang the charcoal, all things the copper!’”

Martial cultivation was just so—a process of constant tempering.

The dross was purged; everyone endured suffering and hardship. Those who could persevere emerged as the essence of the world.

Even grandmasters were trapped within heaven and earth, their bodies like cages.

No wonder so many struggled desperately, clinging to life.

Yet now, he felt he understood. Perhaps someone like Wang Chuan had already transcended the limits of this world.

But beyond the world, was there an even greater cage, even more suffering?

He longed to stand at the peak, to behold the boundless vistas.

He longed for it deeply—one day, he would take that step.

To shatter the void!