Chapter 43: Sometimes Being A Bit Underhanded Is Only Natural

Internal energy is the foundation of a martial artist. Once internal energy goes wrong, at best their strength is damaged; at worst, the road of the martial way is cut off, and for the rest of their life it will be hard to make further progress in inner cultivation.

Therefore, unless the internal energy mind method one cultivates is special, any surge of internal energy caused by external forces is, for a martial artist, no different from pulling shoots to help them grow.

But the merit card is different.

Even though Gu Shaoan used the merit card to increase his merit by twenty years in one stroke, this merit seemed as if Gu Shaoan had cultivated it diligently, bit by bit himself, without the slightest impact on his foundation.

Moreover, apart from directly improving Gu Shaoan’s own strength, the sudden rise in merit would bring great benefits to his upcoming cultivation as well.

He only needed to obtain the subsequent cultivation method of the 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》. With his deep internal energy, his speed in cultivating the internal energy mind method would be as if aided by the gods.

For a time, Gu Shaoan was like a pauper who had become rich overnight, constantly savoring the feeling of the surging, river-like internal energy rushing through his body.

Only after his body had fully adapted to the skyrocketing internal energy did Gu Shaoan’s emotions gradually calm down.

After pondering for a moment, Gu Shaoan once again circulated his internal energy according to the route of the first level of the 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》.

As his internal energy surged, it actually sealed two of the three meridians that had just been forced open.

Most of his internal energy also shrank back into his dantian, leaving only a thin stream of internal energy flowing through his meridians.

The appearance of these twenty years of merit was too strange. It would not matter in front of outsiders, but in front of elders of the Emei Sect like Miejue, Gu Shaoan would find it hard to explain.

Besides, Gu Shaoan had only recently joined Emei. Usually he followed beside Miejue and the others of the Emei Sect, and when danger arose, it was never his turn to charge in first.

Since that was the case, rather than deceive people with lies now, it was better to hide it for the time being.

In daily life, he would still present himself with his previous internal energy state. In moments of crisis, he would simply undo the seal as circumstances required, which would instead make this his greatest trump card.

After all, in this world, sometimes being a bit underhanded is only natural.

Immediately after, Gu Shaoan’s thoughts turned, and he thought of his 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》.

Shortly before descending the mountain, Gu Shaoan had just obtained the second level of the 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》. It would not be appropriate to go to Miejue for the subsequent cultivation method again so soon.

“Looks like I can only continue cultivating the second level to accumulate merit, and wait until we return to Emei to ask Master for the subsequent cultivation method.”

Gu Shaoan could also understand why Miejue only passed down the 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》 level by level each time.

It is said that methods are not passed on lightly, let alone that the 《Emei Nine Yang Skill》 is one of the top internal energy mind methods within the Emei Sect.

In other sects, it would not be surprising if there were rules that the top internal energy mind methods could only be passed to the sect leader.

That Miejue would directly pass this martial art down to every disciple was already extremely generous.

After thinking through what might come next, Gu Shaoan collected his thoughts and once again closed his eyes, throwing himself into cultivation.

No one knew better than Gu Shaoan how treacherous and unpredictable this part of the martial world would be ten years from now.

Even Miejue, looking across the whole martial world, could only be considered second-rate; let alone Gu Shaoan, whose merit was still far inferior to hers.

The sudden surge in merit was certainly something to feel joy about, but Gu Shaoan would not become arrogant just because of this matter.

In Gu Shaoan’s heart, his current self had only taken another big step on the long road of the martial way, far from reaching the level of ascending to the heavens in a single bound.

He was far from qualified to be complacent.

The strong remain strong because of their hearts. If one’s disposition is too weak to maintain perseverance and long-term diligence, how could they hope to climb step by step, stand at the peak, and overlook all mountains?

Minor Heat.

The sky was as stifling as a lidded steamer basket, the sticky heat pressing heavily on every inch of space. The shrill buzzing of cicadas pierced through the stagnant curtain of heat, ceaseless and grating, only adding to the restlessness.

Thirty li outside Yunyang Prefecture, several dusty horse carriages and a group of Emei disciples riding alongside them galloped swiftly along the official road.

“Sect leader, Wudang is just up ahead.”

At that moment, Juechen’s voice suddenly came from within the carriage.

Miejue still had her eyes closed and answered with a soft, indifferent “Mm,” seeming unconcerned.

Zhou Zhiruo lifted the carriage curtain with a touch of expectation and looked out.

Gu Shaoan tilted his head slightly and gazed into the distance, likewise seeing Wudang Mountain ahead.

In this fierce summer heat, the continuous ranges of Wudang Mountain lay like a slumbering azure dragon, stretching out its majestic, austere bones amid the scorching heat of Minor Heat in the seventh month.

Its layered peaks and overlapping ridges, its deep valleys and secluded ravines, were all hidden within endless, dense green.

The main peak at the front was solitary and extraordinary, like a colossal beam piercing the blue heavens, shrouded in gauzy drifting clouds and mist, revealing a faint immortal air untouched by mortal world smoke even under the blazing sun.

Compared to the Emei Mountains, it lacked some of their perilous steepness, yet possessed a greater sense of grandeur.

It could also be called a blessed land of Daoism.

When the Emei party continued along the official road for a few more li, with his recently sharpened eyesight, Gu Shaoan saw a group of Wudang disciples standing at the foot of Wudang Mountain.

When the carriages came to a halt, Miejue, who had been resting with her eyes closed, finally spoke. “Get out of the carriage.”

When she finished speaking, Gu Shaoan and Zhou Zhiruo followed Miejue together.

After getting out of the carriage, the two closely followed behind Miejue, together with Juechen and the other elders and disciples of the Emei Sect, walking toward the Wudang disciples at the foot of the mountain.

As Miejue approached, a middle-aged man with a stern face and righteous gaze, standing among those guarding at the foot of the mountain, stepped forward.

“Master nun.”

A smile appeared on Miejue’s face as she returned the greeting. “Sect Leader Song.”

Gu Shaoan raised his brows slightly; how could he not know the identity of the man before him?

He was none other than Zhang Sanfeng’s foremost disciple of Wudang, also the foremost among the second generation of disciples, and the current acting sect leader of Wudang, Song Yuanqiao.

“Zhiruo sister.”

Just as the two had finished exchanging greetings, a youth of seventeen or eighteen at Song Yuanqiao’s side could not help speaking out excitedly, drawing the eyes of Gu Shaoan and the others.

But before Zhou Zhiruo could respond, Song Yuanqiao, standing in front of Miejue, darkened his face.

“Absurd. How can you be disrespectful in front of Master Nun?”

His stern voice instantly made the youth stop the step he had been about to take.

But his gaze still rested on Zhou Zhiruo, unable to move away.

After scolding the young man, Song Yuanqiao said apologetically, “My son has been rude. I hope Master Nun will not hold it against him.”

Seeing this, Gu Shaoan also guessed the youth’s identity.

Song Yuanqiao’s only son, the foremost of Wudang’s third generation, Song Qingshu.

However, Song Qingshu was already eighteen and would reach twenty in two years, while Zhou Zhiruo was only eleven, a month younger than Gu Shaoan.

But girls mature earlier; in terms of physical development, they are naturally a bit ahead of boys.

At this moment, though Zhou Zhiruo was still young, her soft and delicate features already showed a hint of refined beauty, the early signs of a peerless appearance.

And beauty lies not only in appearance, but also in bones.

What was most precious was the gentle, watery grace of Jiangnan that Zhou Zhiruo carried, which made the impression she gave even more distinctive.

Noticing Song Qingshu’s gaze, Gu Shaoan frowned slightly, then shifted a step sideways to stand in front of Zhou Zhiruo.