Chapter Seven: A Thousand Sects and Orders

These days, many people were engaged in idle chatter.

“Have you heard? There’s an esper from an organization who performs acts of heroism every day!”

“They say crime on these streets has dropped significantly.”

“That’s right. Just the other day, a little girl was about to be hit by a car while crossing the road, but this young man rushed over in an instant, not even giving you time to blink, and saved her.”

“Not long ago, during construction on City Hall Avenue, a massive boulder fell due to human error. That young man caught it with ease.”

“He’s truly remarkable!”

“Yes, he’s incredibly strong.”

“What’s his name?”

“He never leaves his name, caring little for fame or reward!”

“That’s right. He’s refused any official prize money, saying it’s simply what he ought to do, and he won’t even let newspapers or media report on his deeds!”

Many people were discussing Xia Yan. Clearly, his actions throughout the city were well known.

Xia Yan himself didn’t mind. He continued these deeds every day, never slacking off—not even for a minute.

On rare occasions, Lan Xin would come to the Lan family estate, exchanging a few words with Xia Yan. Even when she spoke, it was only a sentence or two, but the surprise was still visible in her eyes.

Evidently, for someone as exalted as Xia Yan to persist so diligently was truly admirable.

On this day, three months after Xia Yan had arrived, he was summoned by Lan Qing to the inner courtyard. Xia Yan came to the quiet room where Lan Qing sat, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Lan Qing’s voice called from within.

Xia Yan entered and greeted him, “Senior Lan Qing.”

Lan Qing looked rather helpless. “Xia Yan, in my life, I’ve feared neither heaven nor earth—except for my granddaughter. She told me that if I let you continue in this state, you’d likely work yourself to death. That girl nags me incessantly; it’s maddening. Fine, let’s change it from half a year to three months. From today, the first part of your training is complete.”

“Thank you, Senior Lan Qing.” Xia Yan was deeply grateful, his tone and attitude utterly respectful, without the slightest hint of disdain despite Lan Qing being an ordinary person.

“I suppose you’ve managed to pass my test, just barely,” Lan Qing said seriously. “As for your temperament, though it’s only been three months, you’ve shown admirable perseverance, able to endure day and night without slacking. I believe you have the determination to master ancient martial arts.”

A faint smile broke across Xia Yan’s face. His three months of effort had not been in vain.

“As for your sense of chivalry,” Lan Qing continued, “according to my granddaughter, you just barely pass.”

In the past twenty years, many had sought to become Lan Qing’s disciple—there were plenty of espers. But their willpower was mediocre. Upon hearing they’d need three years of training, most gave up immediately; very few even agreed. Even those who did usually treated their training as a passing fancy, only attending to it sporadically. Even among those who managed three months or longer, laziness was common, and none met Lan Qing’s expectations.

But Xia Yan was different. Though he had only trained for three months, he had never slacked off, practicing diligently every day—enough to satisfy even Lan Xin.

“Xia Yan, from today, you are my disciple. You may call me Master now.”

“Yes, Master,” Xia Yan replied with a smile.

“Before your formal initiation, let’s have a little sparring session.” Lan Qing looked at Xia Yan. “Keep your physical strength at about ten percent, and follow me to the training hall.”

“Understood,” Xia Yan answered immediately.

In the estate’s martial arts room, both Xia Yan and Lan Qing donned martial uniforms and began their bout.

Xia Yan took the initiative, throwing a punch with fifty percent power, ready to adapt or defend as needed.

But as Xia Yan’s fist flew, Lan Qing’s right hand stretched out, softly meeting the blow with a gentle palm. The force was soft and yielding, but it completely neutralized Xia Yan’s strength, slowing his movement.

In the next moment, Xia Yan was subdued.

“Again, attack me the same way,” Lan Qing instructed.

“Yes, Master.”

Xia Yan threw another punch, again using half his strength.

Lan Qing’s hand moved like a blue serpent, lightly tapping as it met Xia Yan’s fist. Instantly, Xia Yan found he couldn’t exert any strength, feeling intensely uncomfortable, and was subdued again in the following moment.

He repeated the punch again and again, and each time, Lan Qing countered differently—sometimes with agility, sometimes with weight, sometimes with surprise, sometimes with endless variety.

With dozens of different techniques, Lan Qing effortlessly dismantled Xia Yan’s punch, and in the next instant, subdued him without resistance.

Finally, Lan Qing gave Xia Yan a signal, and the sparring ended.

“Xia Yan, do you understand the meaning of the Thousand Styles School?” Lan Qing asked, smiling.

Xia Yan pondered. “Master, it seems your techniques have no fixed forms; each time you adapt to the opponent. Fist, palm, finger, and leg techniques all change unpredictably—sometimes forceful, sometimes gentle, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, sometimes variable, sometimes defensive. It seems the Thousand Styles School isn’t about set moves, but about using endless changes to counter the enemy.”

Lan Qing was satisfied with the answer and began to explain the essence of the Thousand Styles School.

In ancient times, there was a novel called “The Eight Dragons,” featuring the Murong family of Gusu, famous for their encyclopedic martial arts knowledge. The “thousand” in Thousand Styles represented their vast mastery—perhaps over a thousand martial techniques.

“I see,” Xia Yan said in awe.

Lan Qing continued, “The Thousand Styles School does not focus on fixed forms or movements, but rather on intent. There are mainly two types of martial skills: body movement and hand techniques. Hand techniques encompass everything—fists, palms, legs, and even the eighteen traditional weapons.”

Lan Qing smiled. “Xia Yan, do you know why my granddaughter said she couldn’t teach you?”

“I don’t quite understand, Master,” Xia Yan replied.

“She also practices the Thousand Styles techniques. But after mastering many skills, she specialized in swordsmanship and even created her own techniques. What she could teach you is only her own path, not one that belongs to you.”

“So those moves were created by Miss Lan Xin herself?” Xia Yan was astonished.

“Two months ago, I taught you a breathing technique—what ordinary people would call internal qigong,” Lan Qing said.

“Master, for the past two months, during my daily meditation, I’ve practiced this breathing technique and can now sense the presence of qi,” Xia Yan replied promptly.

“This type of internal qigong isn’t meant to make you stronger, but is a method for inner observation of the body’s meridians and bones. Its main purpose is to perfectly unleash the body’s potential,” Lan Qing explained. “In our ancient Chinese martial arts, there are two aspects: internal and external. The internal is qigong, for cultivating the sensation of qi. The external is the martial techniques. Our Thousand Styles School practices both.”

“I understand now,” Xia Yan nodded.

“My granddaughter has a move called ‘Qi Condensation Slash,’ which uses the sensation of qi to control the body’s meridians and bones, letting her unleash her power perfectly in an instant.”

Xia Yan recalled that although Lan Xin’s physical strength was not as great as his own, when she used Qi Condensation Slash, her explosive strength far surpassed his. Now he realized this was the mystery of internal qigong.

“But what she unleashes isn’t superhuman strength, only her own true power,” Lan Qing said seriously. “Do you understand?”

“My own true power…” Xia Yan was stunned. “Master, are you saying that a person’s normal full-strength attack isn’t their true maximum strength?”

Lan Qing nodded. “Exactly. Take you, for example, Xia Yan. You’re very strong, but in battle, you can barely use fifty or sixty percent of your strength. The reason is you haven’t practiced internal qigong, so you can’t observe your meridians and bones inwardly, and can’t control your body perfectly. This actually has nothing to do with martial arts techniques.”

Internal and external cultivation—the “internal” refers to the technique of generating force, which is crucial and independent of form. This is reminiscent of “internal power” in martial arts novels, where only with internal strength can one exert true power.

But in reality, internal qigong isn’t “internal power”—it’s merely a method of inner observation, its purpose being to fully realize the body’s potential.

Only by clearly observing one’s meridians and bones can one fully unleash their potential.

“I understand now,” Xia Yan finally grasped the concept.

“The Thousand Styles School’s external techniques are what’s commonly known as ancient martial arts,” Lan Qing continued. “The Earth Federation actually classifies these martial arts techniques, from the level of ordinary people up to the highest level. The classification has nothing to do with physical strength—only with one’s mastery of martial techniques. For example, two people with equal physical development might have vastly different combat abilities—the difference lies in their martial skill.”

“I see,” Xia Yan listened, fascinated.

“Let me explain simply,” Lan Qing went on. “Someone like you, who has honed combat skills in life-and-death situations, would just barely reach the entry level. My granddaughter, on the other hand, would be among the foremost at the top level. As for this old man, I can just about reach that level myself.”

Xia Yan was shocked. The terrifying combat skills of Miss Lan Xin were only at the top level? As for Lan Qing’s own ranking, Xia Yan was not surprised; after all, even Lan Xin trained under him.

“Master, you’re amazing,” Xia Yan said. “When I sparred with you earlier, even when I used the full strength of my body, you defeated me with a single move each time. And I could sense that your physical strength was less than ten percent of mine.”

“I’m old; my physical strength is probably only about eight percent now,” Lan Qing replied with a smile.

“Xia Yan, starting tomorrow, I’ll formally teach you hand techniques and body movement skills, which are divided into several stages,” Lan Qing said, smiling. “Since childhood, I’ve prepared training methods for my granddaughter, and now you can use them as well. You’ll start training tomorrow.”

“Yes, Master,” Xia Yan nodded, feeling a quiet excitement.

As an esper whose greatest advantage was his physical strength, close-quarters combat mastery was essential, and ancient martial arts techniques were a crucial part of that.

Finally, after three months, his true training could begin.