Chapter Ninety-Four: A Friendly Contest

Meanwhile, Nangong Xi had untied Second Uncle, who hurried over to embrace me. "Good, child..." Second Uncle finally could not hold back his emotions, and the two of us—so far apart in age—held each other and wept in anguish. Nangong Xi stood beside us, her tears falling uncontrollably.

After our tears had subsided, the three of us gathered the bodies together and burned them in a single blaze. Then we sat on the stone benches, talking for a long, long time. Second Uncle was especially delighted at my recovery of spiritual energy, grinning from ear to ear. The three of us—one elder and two youths—sat there on the simple stone benches, chatting until dusk.

Nangong Xi kept biting her lip, trying to hold back her tears. Second Uncle was in such a good mood that he went to the kitchen early, around seven, leaving just me and Nangong Xi in the courtyard.

"Brother, you've saved me so many times, I don't even know how to thank you," Nangong Xi said, pulling me out of my daze.

I thought for a moment and replied, "I've long regarded you as my own sister. Since we're family, there's no need to talk about owing each other. You are me, and your troubles are mine as well."

Nangong Xi nodded, her tears about to spill over. "All right, don't cry. We're all fine now," I said. She nodded again and went to her room to tend to her wounds.

I changed clothes too, donning the white brocade robe Second Uncle had given me—it fit perfectly. In my room, I took out Snowblade; our bond seemed to have deepened, and I could almost sense its intentions. Channeling spiritual energy into Snowblade, it obediently transformed with a shimmer.

I stroked the blade, and it flickered in response. I hadn't looked closely before, but now I saw that Snowblade seemed sharper and brighter. Pleased, I put it back into my ring and went to the courtyard to practice boxing.

My strength had returned—not just returned, but grown even stronger. My punches were more forceful than ever. I resolved to spend time studying finger techniques. Before losing my spiritual energy, I often practiced the Skywalker Finger Technique, and I couldn't abandon it now.

With that thought, I stopped boxing, sat aside, and took out the Skywalker Finger Technique manual. I was already quite familiar with the Eight Trigram Formation, so I could move on to the next stage.

I opened to the fourth page: this chapter was called the Thunderbolt Formula. According to its introduction, it was a purely offensive finger technique with immense power. Learning from past experience, I studied its diagrams and instructions diligently.

The technique, as its name implied, summoned a lightning bolt from the fingertips to strike an enemy swiftly. Its only drawback was its short range, best suited for close or mid-distance attacks. But that hardly mattered—power was paramount.

The Skywalker Finger Technique was indeed difficult; without a master, most would struggle with even the first technique. I was an exception, but even so, the Thunderbolt Formula was tough to master.

I noticed that every time my temples throbbed during practice, a mysterious coolness would wash over me, restoring my strength. This coolness was the effect of the White Flow Flower, and I sensed there was much more to discover about it.

I trained until after eight, nearly nine o'clock, before closing the book. Just then, Second Uncle finished preparing dinner.

To ward off the darkness, Second Uncle had brought out all the oil lamps in the house—eight in total. Once lit, they brightened the surroundings, even making the air feel warmer.

"Come, come, let's eat," he called.

The three of us sat around the stone table, and I rubbed my hungry stomach. Second Uncle had gone all out—a huge spread of dishes, with every kind of delicacy imaginable.

I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite of braised pork; its flavor rivaled that of any five-star chef. Nangong Xi ate with gusto, praising Second Uncle's cooking between mouthfuls.

Midway through the meal, a thought occurred to me, and I asked, "Second Uncle, do you think the Dong family will send more people?"

Without hesitation, Second Uncle replied, "They won't. If they do, their strength will be about the same as today. That's all they've got."

I felt reassured; otherwise, if I went out again and stronger intruders came to Second Uncle's home, it would be troublesome.

"You nearly let your inner demon take over today," Second Uncle remarked.

I nodded, realizing how true that was. During the fight, there was a long stretch where I felt none of my own pain.

"What would happen then?" I asked, mouth still full of food.

"You'd become a demon, gradually consumed by demonic energy and turned into someone who knows only slaughter."

I nodded with lingering fear, recalling Second Uncle's old advice: "Hold fast to your true heart, and you walk the righteous path!" These words became my motto and life lesson.

After dinner, it was already ten o'clock. Second Uncle cleaned up the table and went to bed. My head ached, so I turned in early as well.

That night, I dreamed a familiar dream—the kind I often had before encountering the Ghost King. I wasn't surprised.

When the dream ended, I woke up. Sitting up, I watched the sun rising outside and stretched lazily, murmuring to myself, "A new day begins..."

I dressed in my brocade robe and went to the courtyard to practice boxing. Second Uncle was already up, reading for quite some time, and Nangong Xi was also awake, sitting on the ground cultivating.

Second Uncle glanced at me and said, "Come, boy, let's practice boxing without spiritual energy."

"Sure," I replied eagerly, knowing that real combat is the best way to improve.

I assumed the opening stance for Bajiquan, and Second Uncle mirrored me. His pose was more imposing, fiercer.

Before I could react, Second Uncle charged at me like a ferocious tiger.

Since ancient times, Bajiquan has been the most deadly boxing technique, once hailed as a skill for killing. There's an old saying: The scholar's Tai Chi brings peace to the world, the warrior's Bajiquan secures the realm.

Second Uncle was highly experienced; he avoided a direct confrontation, starting with mutual probing moves.

After the first exchange, neither of us was hurt, and we squared off again.

Impatient, I saw Second Uncle holding back, so I used Bajiquan's rapid footwork to close in and launched a straight punch at his face.

He blocked it effortlessly and countered with a punch of his own.

"Never attack rashly; you must read the situation," Second Uncle advised, then suddenly rushed at me, his body arching back, fist thrusting forward, forming an archer's bow.

This move, which Second Uncle had taught me, was called "Bird Startled by the Bow," using momentum to charge the opponent at high speed.