Written clearly on the booklet were the words: “This skill effectively extends longevity, improves blood circulation, and nourishes the five viscera to smooth one’s Qi; it is effective for recuperating from internal injuries. The more advanced one’s cultivation, the greater the results.”
Recuperating from internal injuries? Lu Sheng’s heart gave a slight jolt.
“Young Master? It’s time to eat. It’s already the height of the Zi hour…”
Little Qiao’s gentle voice drifted in from outside.
Lu Sheng stretched his shoulders and rolled his arms before pushing the door open. The faint creak echoed softly through the quiet courtyard. Outside, Little Qiao sat alone on a small stool, her hands resting neatly on her lap. Who knew how long she had been waiting for him there?
The height of the Zi hour—midnight. In the Song Dynasty, time was divided into twelve double-hour segments, each split into beginning and height. That meant it was currently somewhere between midnight and one in the morning.
“It’s already so late?” Lu Sheng looked toward the distant courtyards. The liveliness and chatter that filled them by day had vanished, replaced by the hush of sleeping halls.
Somewhere beyond the walls, the night watchman’s gong struck faintly, its sound drifting on the cold night breeze.
“Is there still something to eat now?” Lu Sheng asked as he made his way toward the kitchen.
The Lu Manor’s kitchen sat between the front yard and the back; to reach it, one had to pass through the rear corridor and out into the open courtyard.
“I’ve asked the kitchen to leave some food for you, Young Master. There’s a bit of everything left—just needs reheating,” Little Qiao said softly, quickly stepping to his side.
Together, they walked down the winding corridor, their footsteps light against the stone floor, turning left toward the small kitchen yard shrouded in the quiet of the night.
A few tables and chairs stood scattered across the kitchen yard, arranged haphazardly for the chefs and servants to use during their meals.
As Lu Sheng and Little Qiao stepped into the small courtyard, they saw someone seated at one of the tables—head lowered, eating voraciously from a spread of dishes clearly meant for Lu Sheng.
“Big Bro, how come you’re still up so late?”
The diner looked up, revealing a plain yet charming face with an innocent glow.
“Qingqing?” Lu Sheng blinked in surprise. “When did you come back?”
He sat down opposite her, studying her quietly as she continued eating with unabashed delight.
She was his younger sister, Lu Qingqing—the daughter of his Second Mother. Though they were half-siblings, Second Mother had always treated Lu Sheng as her own. To her, he was no different from a true son. In the depths of his inherited memories, Lu Sheng’s affection toward Second Mother and Qingqing far exceeded that for any of his other siblings.
“Oh, I just got back. I was starving, so I rushed here! When I saw a feast laid out, I thought it was prepared for me,” she said with a laugh between bites.
She wore fitted blue overalls, a sword strapped to her back, her chest bound tightly beneath the fabric. If not for her delicate features, one could easily mistake her for a young man.
“You shouldn’t have come back…” Lu Sheng murmured with a sigh.
“Why?” Qingqing’s hand froze midair, the bowl lowering slowly. Her cheerful expression faded into a serious frown. “Brother Xu died from some unknown cause… What kind of trouble did Uncle Xu’s family get into? Demons, devils, ghosts, monsters—what nonsense! I refuse to believe such things exist!”
“What do you mean?” Lu Sheng asked, his tone calm but eyes sharp.
“I came back early to find out the truth behind Brother Xu’s death—and to bring his killer to justice!” Qingqing declared, her eyes flashing with a cold glint of determination.
Lu Sheng fell silent, gazing at his younger sister for a long moment. The faint light of the oil lamp flickered between them, painting her face in sharp relief.
A trace of anger rose in her voice as she slammed her chopsticks down.
“Big Bro, Brother Xu is dead. Don’t you want to find out who the real killer is?!”
“I’ve looked into it, but there weren’t any leads…” Lu Sheng shook his head slowly. “There were no clues about the killer—no trace at all. The entire Xu Family, more than ten people, died tragically in the middle of the night. Yet there wasn’t the slightest sign or sound of disturbance.”
“I don’t believe it!” Lu Qingqing shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the ground. “I’m full. I’ll start investigating tomorrow. Big Bro, I’m going to rest first.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out of the yard, her steps heavy with frustration.
“Little Qiao, want to come over to my place?” she called as she passed.
Little Qiao lowered her head, shaking it quietly. Her face was pale, her mood visibly dimmed. Talking about Brother Xu had clearly weighed on her heart.
Xu Daoran had always been gentle and respectful—a man who treated everyone with kindness. Who would have thought that such a benevolent person could meet such a horrific end?
When Lu Qingqing disappeared from sight, Lu Sheng sat back down. Little Qiao reheated the dishes in silence, the soft crackle of the stove filling the quiet kitchen. Once the food was ready, he began to eat.
It’s been five years since Qingqing left to train in martial arts under Priest Tie Sang, the famed swordsman near Zi Hua City. Yet it seems she still hasn’t cultivated inner force.
According to the Jade Crane Skill manual, one clear sign of inner force cultivation was the radiance in the eyes—bright, spirited, full of life. The stronger the inner force, the more brilliance one’s gaze carried.
But Qingqing’s eyes had been dull and clouded, no different from an ordinary person’s. Clearly, she wasn’t an inner force cultivator.
Of course, Lu Sheng mused, true inner force cultivators aren’t cabbages growing by the roadside. But that Duanmu Wan… she’s far more complicated than she appears.
He murmured softly to himself, lost in thought for a while before finally setting his mind aside and finishing his meal in silence.
…………
The next morning, dawn’s first light spilled across the tiled roofs of Nine Links City. Lu Sheng rode alongside Uncle Zhao, heading toward the residence of Chief Constable Zhang Xun.
“Although Chief Constable Zhang’s Heart-Shattering Palm doesn’t belong to any established faction,” Uncle Zhao said as their horses trotted side by side, “it’s said to rival the famed Iron Sand Palm. The technique focuses on sheer penetrative force—it can strike through an object and injure what lies behind it. In battle, a skilled user can attack an opponent’s internal organs directly. It’s terrifyingly effective.”
The two rode along the uneven road toward the Blacksmiths’ District, where Zhang Xun resided. The district lay near the city walls—home mostly to the poor, the craftsmen, the blacksmiths, and the carpenters.
As they passed through the narrow streets, Lu Sheng observed the people around them. Faces were sallow, clothes were patched and faded. The air smelled faintly of soot and metal, mingled with the bitter scent of poverty.
“I’ve heard of the Heart-Shattering Palm since I was a boy,” Lu Sheng said casually. “How did Chief Constable Zhang end up in such straits? As a yamen officer, shouldn’t he have enough rank and connections to live better than this?”
Uncle Zhao sighed, shaking his head. “How else? It’s because of the tragedy that year. He took revenge with his own hands and killed his enemy—but he suffered heavy internal injuries in the process. Since then, he’s been plagued by recurring pain. The cost of his medicines alone drained him dry.”
Their conversation trailed off as they approached a small, weathered courtyard. The walls were cracked, and the wooden door looked as though it hadn’t been repaired in years.
Uncle Zhao dismounted and rapped on the door.
“Who’s there?”
A frail voice called from inside. A moment later, a thin youth pushed the door open. Recognizing Uncle Zhao, his eyes brightened.
“Uncle Zhao? Please, come in!”
Lu Sheng followed him through the gate and into the modest courtyard. Under the morning sun sat an elderly man with hair as white as frost, his back straight despite his age.
“Is that Young Master Lu?” the old man asked in a clear, firm voice, getting straight to the point.
“That’s me,” Lu Sheng replied, cupping his fists respectfully.
“This old man has received the silver you sent earlier,” Zhang Xun said with a slight nod. “I can pass down the Heart-Shattering Palm to you right away. However… this old man has a difficult favor to ask in return.”
The elder before him was none other than Chief Constable Zhang Xun—the same man once famed in Nine Links City for killing without batting an eye.
“Please speak, Master Zhang,” Lu Sheng said calmly, his expression unchanging.
“This old man hopes that Young Master Lu will learn this skill well and pass it on to others,” Zhang Xun replied, his voice firm and resonant despite his age. “That way, my life’s work will not fade into oblivion.”
“Don’t worry, Master Zhang. I will see it done,” Lu Sheng answered solemnly.
“Good!” Zhang Xun’s tone rose sharply, carrying the weight of an old soldier’s authority. “Whether it’s the sword or the fist, what we need most is courage—the will to press forward no matter what stands before us! Without that spirit, even the strongest strike is hollow and powerless!”
His voice thundered through the courtyard, each word heavy and precise.
“My Heart-Shattering Palm and saber techniques share the same principle,” Zhang Xun continued. “Whether you wield your palm or your blade, you must act with decisiveness—as if it were a matter of life and death. Only then can you unleash true speed and strength. If your heart hesitates… your power will falter.”
Lu Sheng’s thoughts trembled as though struck by lightning. Something within him stirred.
“Essence, Qi, and spirit; heart, mind, and strength—unite them as one, focus them to a single point,” Zhang Xun said, his gaze piercing. “That is the key to mastery—whether in saberplay or the Heart-Shattering Palm.”
Lu Sheng stood motionless, eyes closed, his hand tightening around the long-hilted saber at his waist. The morning wind brushed against his face, carrying the old man’s words deep into his soul.
He had just stepped into the courtyard, yet already received a lesson that struck to the very heart of martial truth.
If your heart hesitates, then your strength abates!
The phrase echoed again and again within his mind, rumbling like distant thunder.
It struck him—his hesitation came from overthinking. His saber moves always carried that faint trace of uncertainty.
Now, he understood. His technique wasn’t lacking—his resolve was.
Though his skill surpassed Uncle Zhao’s, when they crossed blades, it was Zhao who held the stronger spirit. Lu Sheng had mistaken his weakness for inexperience.
But in truth, what he lacked was not skill—It was the courage of a heart unyielding, both in mind and spirit.
A long while later, Lu Sheng clasped his fists and bowed deeply toward Zhang Xun.
“Many thanks, Master Zhang.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, everyone else, out! I’ll be passing the key formula of the Heart-Shattering Palm to Young Master Lu alone,” Zhang Xun said, his voice clear and commanding.
Uncle Zhao and the young man exchanged knowing smiles before quietly taking their leave.
Time flowed swiftly.
Lu Sheng remained in Zhang Xun’s home the entire day, committing every word of the formula to memory while practicing the movements again and again. Zhang Xun, for his part, spared nothing—he spoke freely of his battles, his insights, and the subtleties of the art he had forged through blood and hardship.
Having already initiated his inner-force cultivation, Lu Sheng’s spirit burned bright and his body brimmed with vitality. He trained tirelessly from dawn till dusk, pausing only twice for brief rests.
By evening, the key principles of the Heart-Shattering Palm were engraved into his mind. After one final bow of respect, Lu Sheng took his leave.
When he returned home, he went straight to his quarters and sat cross-legged on the bed.
Deep Blue! he commanded silently.
At once, the familiar screen of the Modifier flickered to life in his mind. He focused his will upon the Jade Crane Skill, eyes narrowing in concentration.
This time, there shouldn’t be any problem.
He pressed the Modify button. The screen flared violently.
Lu Sheng steadied his breathing, channeling his focus on the skill.
Upgrade one level!
The moment he gave the command, the display of the Jade Crane Skill leapt from Initiated to Level One.
A burning wave surged through his body. His five viscera and six bowels seemed to ignite; heat rushed up his chest to his face, and his tongue turned dry. His complexion flushed crimson as if fire itself flowed through his veins.
He recalled the warning from the secret manual—such sensations arose when inner force overflowed, causing the heart’s heat to flare uncontrollably.
Rising swiftly, he reached for the nearby table where a pot of Jadeite Dendrobium tea had been prepared beforehand. He lifted the cup with both hands and drank slowly, letting the cooling essence seep through him.
The Dendrobium, also known as the Yin-Nourishing Fairy Grass, was famed for its powerful restorative effects. In the mortal realm, its variant was called the Metallic Dendrobium—but here, within this world, the prized Jadeite Dendrobium was used instead.
It was a rare and costly tonic, imported all the way from the Central Plains. Fortunately, the Lu family’s pharmacy had kept a small reserve—enough for Lu Sheng to use.
After drinking three cups of the thick, fragrant Dendrobium tea, the scorching heat in his chest gradually subsided. A cool, soothing warmth began to flow through his meridians.
If the secret manual is correct, he thought, the Jade Crane Skill consists of only two levels. I’ve already managed to sense Qi in just a single day, but according to the text, even a gifted cultivator would need a hundred days to reach initiation. Advancing to the first level takes two to three years—and to the second, at least five to ten.
He set the teapot down and picked out the softened Dendrobium pulp from the bottom, chewing it thoughtfully.
What I just did… is equivalent to two or three years of cultivation. Not bad.
Within his body, the flow of Qi had become clearer—where it had once felt as thin as a strand of hair, it now pulsed like a slender chopstick, steady and tangible.
Turning his attention inward, Lu Sheng focused on another entry within the Modifier: the Heart-Shattering Palm.
At present, it remained marked as Uninitiated, separated into two parts—outer and inner force. The Modifier could only recognize what he had learned by heart; once he memorized both the movements and the mental formula, they would appear automatically on the screen.
As for inner force techniques, he needed to first sense and refine his Qi before he could modify them.
Lu Sheng exhaled slowly. His plan was clear: he would first strengthen the Jade Crane Skill, refining his essence, Qi, and spirit to stabilize his foundation. Only then would he begin upgrading his external martial arts. That way, the strain on his body would remain within his control.
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and then Add to home screen.