Chapter Nine: Form and Intention, Yue Huyang

“Apprenticeship?”

Meng Fan pondered for a moment. It’s certainly beneficial to learn an additional skill; after all, having multiple techniques is never a burden.

However, acquiring another skill also means diverting some of his energy away from cultivating the Beast Tamer’s arts. If the new skill isn’t worth the effort, wasting his energy on it would be counterproductive.

Surely, he couldn’t spend over a decade mastering a technique only to be knocked down by a single punch. It would be better to focus exclusively on refining his Beast Tamer abilities.

“Dad, may I ask—does the master you found for me have any special skills?” Meng Fan asked with curiosity.

“That master practices Xingyi Quan,” Old Meng replied after a moment’s thought. “According to your great-grandmaster, his Xingyi Quan is very different from others’. It’s said to touch upon the essence of life itself. Being accepted as his disciple is a rare blessing.”

“My great-grandmaster, who is also my master, originally wanted me to learn it too, but I declined politely. One key reason was that my innate physique was already set and not suitable for Xingyi Quan.”

“However, Fan, your physique is not yet fixed. This is the perfect time to temper your body. You’d best not miss this opportunity.”

Meng Fan scratched his head.

Xingyi Quan? He had heard of it in his previous life, just like Tai Chi and Baji Quan—widely known martial arts styles.

In the world beneath the elite, Tai Chi’s Cloud Hands embodied a balance of hard and soft energies, a secret passed down in Wudang. Zhuge Qing was also proficient in Baji Quan, matching Wang in skill.

So, Xingyi Quan was certainly worth trying.

Moreover, Old Meng mentioned that this master’s Xingyi Quan was unique, which piqued Meng Fan’s curiosity. He wanted to see what made it different.

“Alright, then. I’ll listen to you, Dad. I’ll go apprentice with him!” Meng Fan nodded.

Old Meng patted Meng Fan’s head. “Good, we’ll go tomorrow.”

———

Early the next morning.

Old Meng took Meng Fan by the hand, carrying two bottles of medicinal wine, and they boarded a bus toward Chang’an City.

Don’t underestimate these two bottles of medicinal wine. They were brewed by Old Meng’s master in his youth, who traveled far and wide, gathering rare herbs deep in the mountains. It was said they even included tiger bones.

Back then, tiger bones were precious; nowadays, finding authentic tiger bone wine was nearly impossible.

Only five bottles had been passed down. For Meng Fan’s apprenticeship, Old Meng had resolutely sacrificed two bottles as a gift of goodwill.

———

Fengyuan Road, a martial arts school.

“New Xingyi!”

The sign hung prominently above. Inside, the school was elegantly decorated. Old Meng led Meng Fan in, where several instructors were teaching students.

They were demonstrating the Tiger Form.

Meng Fan watched briefly and shook his head. Although the moves had destructive power, the routines were overly showy, designed more to look impressive than practical.

None of the students or instructors displayed any sign of qi cultivation.

Just then, someone noticed Old Meng and Meng Fan. An instructor approached warmly.

“Sir, you’ve brought your child here to learn boxing?”

Old Meng shook his head. “I’m looking for Master Yue Huyang. Do you see him?”

“For your great-grandmaster?”

The instructor was surprised but quickly said, “Please wait here; I’ll inform him.”

“Hahaha, no need to inform anyone. I’ll come out myself!” came a voice.

The visitor was a man about 1.8 meters tall, dressed in a white training robe. His beard was like a lion’s mane, his body robust and powerful.

His tiger-like eyes glowed with intensity, exuding the aura of a tiger. Each whisker was sharp as steel needles, meticulously groomed without a single stray hair.

Most striking was his shining bald head.

Meng Fan noticed the man’s hands: large, thick knuckles, yet somehow soft and agile, like tiger paws.

Old Meng quickly pulled Meng Fan forward in greeting. “Greetings, Master Yue!”

“No need for formalities. I’m old friends with your master. You’re practically family. No need to be so distant.”

Meng Fan’s first impression was of a straightforward man, followed by a steady presence like a tiger crouched atop a mountain.

“You must be the boy you mentioned?”

Old Meng nodded and pushed Meng Fan forward. “This is my son, Meng Fan. I’d like that spot for him. What do you think?”

Yue Huyang studied Meng Fan carefully. After just one glance, his eyes flashed with sharp light.

“This is no place for talk. Follow me.”

Yue Huyang led them to the backyard.

———

The front of the martial arts school was for teaching common students, mostly routines, just like any other school—primarily a source of income.

The backyard, however, was more like a vast arena, surrounded by dormitories.

At that moment, three men stood in the arena. The youngest was at least in his forties.

“Master!”

The three saluted in unison, then stood aside.

Yue Huyang nodded and sat on a stone bench in the arena. Smiling, he asked Old Meng and Meng Fan, “Young man, have you cultivated qi?”

“And for quite some time?”

Meng Fan glanced at Old Meng, who nodded. He stepped forward and said, “Yes, I started cultivating qi at three years old. Now I’m six, so three years of practice.”

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind seemed to rush toward him, but stopped just before reaching him.

Yue Huyang grabbed Meng Fan’s shoulder and ran his hands over his body. Before Meng Fan could react, he withdrew.

“Not bad, not bad. You didn’t fool this old man!” Yue Huyang said.

He then looked at Old Meng. “Xiao Meng, your son practices the Beast Tamer’s method?”

Old Meng nodded repeatedly. “Master Yue, your insight is remarkable!”

“Haha, insight or not, I’ve been friends with your master for forty years. His qi has a distinct scent—I could smell it from eight miles away.”

“The methods come from the same lineage. The qi in you and your son is the same. How could I be mistaken?” Yue Huyang touched his bald head casually.

He then fixed his gaze on Meng Fan. “Young man, are you willing to learn Xingyi?”

Meng Fan feigned ignorance, hands on hips. “Is Xingyi Quan powerful?”

“I only learn the strongest!”

Hearing this, Yue Huyang laughed heartily, pointing to himself. “I won’t claim to be the best in the world, but in all of Shaanxi Province—and even across the Northwest—no one surpasses me in Xingyi Quan!”

“Master Yue, you are too modest!”