Chapter Five: Practicing Martial Arts is Cultivating the Mind

After handing Fang Can completely over to the gang members for custody, they dragged him along to complete the initiation procedures.

Along the way, the gang member escorting him, after holding back for a while, finally couldn’t help but ask, “Young brother, how did you come to know Chief Li?”

The man, appearing to be in his early thirties, was curious about this short-haired, older-than-average disciple who had gained entry through connections.

After all, eighteen was not considered late for martial training—just halfway to the grave—but even so, Li Fengtian had still chosen to bring Fang Can in, which was a display of both power and caprice.

In any case, someone who could get in through the chief’s status was not someone he could afford to offend, so it never hurt to get on good terms.

Aware that this was a test of his background, possibly influencing his reputation within the sect, Fang Can replied confidently, “Chief Li and I hit it off from the start. He saw I possessed extraordinary talent and, to prevent the loss of such a prodigy, he insisted on bringing me in.”

The gang member’s mouth twitched slightly in disbelief at the young man’s claim but didn’t press further. With a hearty laugh, he said, “Once you’ve found your footing here, be sure to take care of your old brother. If you ever run into trouble, come find me. I’m Liu Yue, but you can just call me Old Liu.”

“Alright, Old Liu,” Fang Can nodded earnestly, showing no trace of humility, just like a completely candid youth.

The two walked and chatted, mostly with Fang Can asking basic, common-sense questions.

Though Liu Yue didn’t understand why Fang Can asked these things, he still answered everything in detail.

It was through Old Liu that Fang Can learned that their country was called Dayan, vast in territory, and powerful sects like the Tiger Sabre Sect dominated hundreds of miles around.

Listening to Liu Yue’s explanation, Fang Can felt that Dayan was doomed sooner or later.

After all, a land where many kings roam freely indicated the imperial court’s weak control; either the emperor of Dayan was playing a great game or was seriously ill.

The Tiger Sabre Sect was the strongest force in the hundred-mile radius, mostly engaged in unsavory activities—collecting protection fees, having stakes in casinos and brothels, escorting caravans, and occasionally robbing travelers.

In short, in this territory, the Tiger Sabre Sect was like a local warlord; nothing could be done without their permission—a villainous faction worthy of being wiped out by the protagonist in a novel.

Guided by Old Liu, Fang Can noted places within the sect such as the canteen, library, martial arts hall, and dormitories.

***

After a simple registration of his information, Fang Can was officially inducted.

He received two sets of black and red uniforms emblazoned with the Tiger Sabre emblem on the chest, a single-person dormitory, and a monthly allowance of three taels of silver.

Through Old Liu’s explanation, Fang Can learned that the lowest rank in the Tiger Sabre Sect was not new disciples like himself, but the errand boys and servants.

They handled daily chores like cleaning and feeding horses, sleeping cramped together in small rooms with a dozen or more people.

If a new disciple like Fang Can failed to show martial talent or value after a certain period, he would either be expelled or demoted to menial tasks.

After all, in these times, even having a meal was a struggle; countless people longed to kneel and serve but lacked the opportunity.

After spending about half an hour running through all the necessary formalities, Liu Yue returned to his post, leaving Fang Can to face his single-person dormitory alone.

The small room was secluded, about twenty square meters, sparsely furnished with a table, chair, bed, and quilt.

“This will be home from now on,” Fang Can murmured, placing his pajamas by the bed. Living in such conditions would require a long adjustment.

‘No phone, no computer. Even if I reach the pinnacle of martial arts, except for Cao Pi, my quality of life probably won’t surpass the modern era.’

Fang Can wondered silently if martial arts could grant the kind of immortality found in fantasy novels.

If so, once he became ageless, he might try to reignite the technological advancements of the Industrial Revolution and enjoy watching some exciting films in his lifetime.

‘No matter, first set a small goal: become immortal, then watch a movie,’ he resolved.

Lying on the hard wooden bed, Fang Can forced his restless mind into sleep in preparation for the afternoon’s martial arts hall classes.

***

At noon, after a light half-hour nap, Fang Can opened his eyes, realized where he was, and prepared to head toward the martial arts hall.

Before stepping out, he paused, turned back, and retrieved a packet of transparent pills tucked in the folds of his pajamas before leaving again.

The journey was silent, but from a distance, Fang Can could hear shouts filled with exertion coming from within the martial arts hall.

As he neared, a wave of heat hit him—a strong masculine energy permeated the entire hall.

Spanning the size of four or five soccer fields, hundreds of men of varying ages bared their chests, displaying their skills in the chilly autumn harvest season.

Some, like Wu Song, effortlessly lifted hundreds of pounds of millstones; others moved like swimming fish upon plum blossom posts four or five meters high, their footwork leaving afterimages.

Even boys of fourteen or fifteen wielded large blades of thirty to forty pounds with fierce vigor.

‘Impressive.’ Watching these human beasts, Fang Can felt he had come to the right place.

Lost in admiration, a hoarse voice came from beside him, “You must be the disciple Chief Li brought in today.”

Fang Can turned to see a man in his forties with a stern, square face approaching.

Seeing Fang Can’s nod, the man said coldly, “I’m Yang Lie, the instructor of the martial arts hall.”

“Xiao Liu has already briefed me on your situation. You’ve never trained in martial arts before, and you won’t keep up with disciples your age. I’ll start from the beginning.”

Fang Can nodded; he had long been prepared mentally—better to start from the bottom before rising.

“Good. Forget everything else for now. Remember every word I say.”

Yang Lie fixed his gaze on Fang Can. “Martial arts training is, above all, about cultivating the mind. Only when your heart believes will the wonders of the martial path manifest in your body.”

“Cultivating the mind?” Fang Can was momentarily stunned; this martial way didn’t align with his prior expectations.

“You don’t need to understand why. Just know what I say is absolutely true. As long as your will is strong and your heart sincere, the entire world will make a path for you.”

Yang Lie’s tone was unwavering, almost like a salesman indoctrinating Fang Can with his words.