The two went down the mountain and returned to the tavern.
First jar, they each drank half.
Second jar, same as before.
By the third jar, a flush had already crept onto Wang Chongyang's face.
The old monk could still casually pick up peanuts with his chopsticks.
By the fourth jar, Wang Chongyang began to feel light on his feet.
The old monk finally let out a burp of liquor.
Wang Chongyang rejoiced internally; this old monk was finally showing a reaction.
When the fifth jar was finished, he looked up again.
The old monk was currently asking the tavern keeper:
"Keeper, is there any left?"
Wang Chongyang: "..."
The tavern keeper was completely dumbfounded:
"There is, but..."
"You two are still drinking?"
The old monk patted his stomach.
"I was just getting a taste for it."
Wang Chongyang yielded completely:
"Master, forget it."
"This poor Daoist admits defeat."
The old monk smiled and said:
"Not going to try a bit more?"
"No more. If I keep drinking..." Wang Chongyang rubbed his temples.
"...I don't know what will happen to the manual..."
"...but this poor Daoist will drink himself to death first."
The old monk burst into laughter.
He picked up his wine bowl and drank the final mouthful down.
His complexion remained as calm as usual, while beneath the table, between the cracks of the stone tiles, fragrant, potent liquor was flowing down from his left pinky finger in a steady trickling stream.
Dispersing alcohol using the Six-Meridian Divine Sword—it worked every single time.
Wang Chongyang slapped the manual onto the table:
"Master's capacity for drink is immense... take it and read!"
The old monk opened the world-renowned 《Nine Yin Manual》.
He had long possessed the 《Kurong Zen Technique》 of Tianlong Temple, having cultivated it to the realm of neither withered nor flourishing, extending one's life.
Having lived for over a hundred years, he had long lost interest in jianghu fame, fighting, and killing.
Besides, he had never liked conflict in the first place.
The reason he wanted to borrow and read it...
...was simply to see how this manual differed from his own century of martial arts insights.
He read very slowly, from beginning to end, without skipping a single page.
The more he read, the more serious his expression grew.
The subtlety and wonder of Nine Yin was indeed worthy of being called an extraordinary book of martial arts.
Some of the principles within...
...were things even he, having lived over a century, had to nod in agreement with.
Yet when he reached the end, the old monk still shook his head:
"It is good, but the Yin energy is a bit too heavy."
"That old rascal Huang Shang carried too much resentment. The technique has more than enough feminine softness and ruthlessness, but lacks balanced neutrality and peace."
Wang Chongyang heard this, yet did not refute it.
Because for certain words, if spoken by others, they would be called arrogant.
Yet coming from the old monk before him, he had to listen.
The old monk closed the manual and pushed it back.
He did not copy it, nor did he look at it a second time.
From then on, he traveled and pondered as he walked.
He already possessed several ultimate arts.
The principles of Bei Ming, the variations of Six Meridians, and the pure inner force of the One Yang Finger.
Add to that his cultivation of Tianlong Temple's Kurong Zen method after entering the Buddhist order.
Over more than a century of life...
...the principles of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism had wound around him countless times.
In the end, he wrote down his insights bit by bit.
It was not to surpass the 《Nine Yin Manual》, nor did he wish to compete for which was superior.
He simply felt that since martial arts spoke of Yin, they should also speak of Yang.
Since it could harm others, it should also prevent oneself from being harmed.
Taking a copy of the 《Lankavatara Sutra》 he carried with him, the old monk stuffed all his martial insights into the gaps between the Sanskrit text.
This was the 《Nine Yang Manual》.
After completing it, he carried it with him for decades while searching for a successor.
He had visited Shaolin, met children of prestigious families, and looked through countless so-called promising young talents of righteous sects until his eyes grew dizzy.
The honest ones were too pedantic, the smart ones harbored wicked intent, and those with extraordinary natural talent were often overflowing with hostility.
Until today, when he ran into a little beggar in Jiaxing City.
He knew how to steal, knew how to deceive.
And his mouth was quite good at spouting specious arguments.
He couldn't be considered a gentleman by any stretch.
Yet after taking money, he first paid back what he owed, then bought medicine.
In the end, to protect a bowl of medicine and two companions...
...he obstinately let three beggars larger than himself beat him until his face was bloody without running away.
Thinking up to this point, the old monk suddenly smiled.
"Being too upright makes one easy to break."
"Being too slick makes one easy to go astray."
"This kid... his heart is righteous, yet carries a touch of wild arrogance."
"Quite interesting indeed."
He raised his wine jar.
Took a sip.
A few drops of liquor dripped down along his white beard.
...
Inside the ruined temple.
Yang Guo pressed the tattered sutra volume tightly against his chest, bounded to the temple doorway in two strides, and yelled at the top of his lungs:
"Senior!"
In the wilderness, apart from the howling night wind, there wasn't a soul in sight.
In his past life, he had read many Jin Yong martial arts novels.
Naturally, he knew that this Wine-Drinking Monk was none other than Duan Yu, one of the former three brothers of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils.
Yang Guo dropped to his knees with a thud into the muddy ground and loudly kowtowed three times toward the empty night air.
"Duan Yu... it really is Duan Yu!"
Yang Guo scrambled up. Looked left: no one.
Looked right: only two wild dogs digging in the dirt.
He slipped back into the ruined temple with a zip and slammed the battered wooden door shut with a loud clang.
Next, Yang Guo dragged over a ruined three-legged altar table, wedging it firmly behind the door panel.
Little Shitou held his broken bowl, crouching beside the straw pile and watching in total dumbfounded awe.
"Yang Guo."
"Our door... usually can't even block the wind, and it doesn't have a latch."
Yang Guo replied, "I know."
Little Shitou added, "Then why are you blocking it? Half the wall over there has already collapsed."
Yang Guo froze mid-motion and slowly turned his head.
Through the half-collapsed wall, moonlight shone straight into the temple.
Forget a person; even a wild boar could walk right in.
Yang Guo was silent for a few seconds before moving the table away again:
"Well, that defended against a whole lot of nothing."
Little Shitou scratched his head and leaned in closer.
"Is this book super valuable?"
Yang Guo said, "Kids shouldn't pry!"
"Go feed Aniu some water."
Little Shitou slunk back to the straw pile dejectedly.
With his back to the moonlight, Yang Guo opened the 《Lankavatara Sutra》 with trembling hands.
His fingertips brushed across dense, tiny regular script.
The calligraphy was vigorous, and the technique for guiding Qi was extraordinarily detailed.
It really was the Nine Yang Divine Art!
The exact Nine Yang Divine Art that allowed one's internal energy to flow endlessly, rendering them immune to all poisons upon mastery!
Transmigrated for twelve years.
For the first time, Yang Guo felt that Heavens might have finally remembered him.
Even if it was a bit late.
...
Yang Guo took a deep breath, crossed his legs on the ground, and followed the technique in the book.
He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and sank his Qi into his dantian.
Half a shichen passed.
The temple grew so quiet that only Aniu's heavy breathing remained.
Whether Yang Guo had developed any internal energy was unknown, but his two legs went on strike first.
"Hiss—! Ow, ow, ow!"
Yang Guo pushed against the mud wall to stand up, his legs aching and numb like being poked with needles, his knees buckling so hard he nearly dropped to the ground.
Little Shitou crouched nearby, his eyes filled with curiosity:
"Yang Guo, did you master it?"
Yang Guo said expressionlessly, baring his teeth in pain:
"Almost."
Little Shitou asked, "How much is left?"
Yang Guo said testily:
"Give me a hand first, my legs have lost all feeling."
Little Shitou quickly supported his arm.
Yang Guo rested against the wall for a moment before sitting back down on the dry straw pile.
Just as he was dazed and about to fall asleep, a faint trace of warmth suddenly surged from his dantian, three inches below his navel.
It felt like a mouthful of warm water that had just been swallowed, sloshing gently.
Yang Guo snapped his eyes open. It was there!
He didn't dare be careless and immediately held his breath.
Following the method in the sutra, he continued to guide it, letting that bit of warmth slowly circulate.
The warm current wobbled through half a meridian before poof, dissipating into nothing.
Far from being discouraged, Yang Guo covered his mouth and giggled foolishly on the straw pile for most of the night.
He wasn't afraid of going slow, only of taking the wrong path.
As long as a spark could be kindled, it would sooner or later burn this internal energy into a prairie fire!
...
One month later.
In front of a flatbread stall in the eastern part of Jiaxing City.
Old Man Wang gripped his rolling pin, looking at Yang Guo as if staring at a monster.
"Yang Guo."
Yang Guo chewed on a flatbread. "Ah, what is it? Go ahead, Uncle Wang."
Old Man Wang pointed tremulously at the empty bamboo basket:
"Have you been possessed lately? How can you eat so much?"
Yang Guo's mouth was stuffed full:
"No, I'm just growing."
Old Man Wang's face turned green:
"Even if you're growing, you can't gorge on seven in one sitting! This old man worked the entire morning all for you alone!"
"Consider it my plea, can you come once every three days in the future?"
"If you keep eating like this, I'll have to go beg at the city gate too."
Yang Guo chewed, swallowed it down, and wiped his mouth.
Practicing the Nine Yang Manual was great in every way—it strengthened the body, sharpened hearing and sight.
It just consumed way too much food!
Rate on N.U.
