Chapter 14, in which the hero realizes that words entail worries, and mushrooms can be delicious as well as dangerous

* * *

In the end, Feng just couldn't take it anymore. He snapped, unable to watch this mockery of everything he had done and aspired to so far. These pathetic dumbasses weren't doing anything right. Staying focused while watching someone else's stupidity or clumsiness proved to be very difficult. One could take it as another way of training. But Feng didn't do that. After all, inner peace and peace with oneself were also very important to a true warrior. So he decided to intervene.

And somehow, it turned out that simple attempts to point out the oblique stance, wrongly bent knee, or the wrong rhythm of breathing imperceptibly turned into full-fledged training, at which Feng now acted as a teacher.

Of course, not the same rascal who bullies his students, no. If he shouted, it was only for good reason because these crooked idiots did not understand in a good way. And he had to take a long bamboo stick only because the "students" kept increasing, and there was no time to explain to each of them in detail.

There wasn't enough time for anything - Feng had enough to do as it was, training, chores, and responsibilities piled up, threatening to crush him under its enormous weight. He would even have abandoned the idea, having dispersed those willing to learn the "city tricks," but suddenly, he noticed a strange, almost supernatural effect. While he was trying to explain what exactly to do and why what the "student" was doing now was wrong, he had several small insights. This led to a deeper understanding of his qi flow and allowed him to improve it, making it more efficient and a little stronger. Perhaps it was the energy of the heart dantian that helped, or perhaps there was a more fundamental principle at work, where teaching others taught the teacher himself - something Feng, unfortunately, had no idea about. The effect persisted even when he didn't bother to explain but rather said something like, "Keep your feet straight, you crooked-armed miscarriage of a goat!" and hit the negligent "student" with a bamboo stick to reinforce the knowledge.

Now, he had found the answer to the question that had plagued Han Nao back in his previous life. Why were all the Hidden Experts, various Hermits, Heads of Pavilions of sects, and mysterious immortals so eager to find a talented disciple? Why would they, persons of great power and might, owners of long or even infinite lives, mess around with essentially pathetic brats, helping them solve problems not worth even the movement of an eyebrow for such a master? Well, now, in his new life, Feng had a clear and comprehensive answer.

The first training session, where Feng acted as a teacher, also showed the main disadvantage of training: time. Feng was already desperately short of time, so it was a pity to waste it on brats. During the training of the others, only the spirit of the Great Triad could be trained because it required a great deal of patience to watch these foolish and armless fools unable to even make a proper stance.

It didn't take long to find a solution to this problem. Feng had long since gotten used to doing several things, combining one training session with another. He had a long and time-consuming occupation - storytelling, and it was during such storytelling that the training had actually begun. This meant that storytelling and training had to be combined as well.

"...Ao Pei came running to him with a face contorted with pain from his many wounds and an expression of furious anger. "Sun Yu," Ao Pei whispered, "my family... they died. Died because of that monster, Xiao Chen."

The crowd sighed loudly and whispered. Feng changed his stance with a slight movement, leaning on his half-bent leg and the other straight leg backward. His arms rose like the wings of a crane. He did not need to look around to see the students, who, for better or worse, repeated the "Crane in the air" stance after him.

"Sun Yu grabbed his friend's shoulder, determination sparkling in his eyes. "We will find Xiao Chen and make him answer for your family's death," he promised. Torn by anger and pain, Ao Pei only nodded briefly. Together, they set out on the path of vengeance in search of Xiao Chen and his gang of villains."

Feng leaned backward, bending in a cartwheel, almost touching the ground with his outstretched arms in 'Wind Clinging Bamboo.' The disciples clumsily adopted the same stance.

"At night, they crept up to Xiao Chen's hiding place. They walked slowly to avoid stepping on branches and then ran from shadow to shadow. The guards were alert, whether their villainous instincts sensed danger or whether something important had happened before the heroes arrived."

Feng's hands closed over his head like the beak of a bird of prey. He moved forward in a "Falcon looking for prey" stance.

Feng continued the story, changing stances and postures, watching the students repeat the exercises while he flowed qi through the meridians and swirled it in the three dantians. Dividing his attention simultaneously between his energy flow, watching the students, and telling the story was insanely difficult. At times when students made particularly egregious mistakes, he had to pick up a bamboo stick from the ground and quickly, without distracting himself from the story, reprimand the most distinguished. He tried to strike sharply, painfully, but without consequences - he had enough healing practice with his family to cure other people's injuries.

"You are paying for the death of my family," Ao Pei said, raising his mace above his head and lowering it sharply," Feng finished. "And after Faithful Wind and Ao Pei had paid Xiao Chen with justice, they didn't stop there. They swore an oath to protect the poor and infirm from the villains, raising the flag of justice and hope!"

The crowd roared with admiration. The story of Sun Yu, nicknamed Free Wind, seemed to have found a special place in their hearts, so they did not hold back their feelings.

When the enthusiasm subsided, relative silence prevailed in the main village square, and someone's disgruntled voice sounded.

"Everything would be fine if only those fools didn't wave their arms! You too, Feng! You'd just stand there and talk! Without all that bouncing around!"

There was a slight rumble symbolizing either indignation at the interference or agreement with the loudmouth.

"In order to become strong, agile, healthy, and live for many hundreds of years, I need to train," Feng replied, his amplified qi voice overpowering the noise around him. "And if I have to choose between continuing to train or telling you stories, guess what I'll do? If anyone doesn't like the way I tell stories, they can go to the city and read in the library all they want!"

The threat seemed serious to the villagers. Everyone instantly fell silent, and a hush descended over the village.

"Feng, don't listen to that asshole!" Brother Kang shouted.

"Who are you calling an asshole, you little brat?" The same voice shouted again.

"Shut your scoop, Jiang! said Father Shirong in a strong voice. "Come on, Feng, let's go home. You have a family to tell everything to. And you can do whatever you want, even stand on your head."

The crowd became excited again. The threat of losing the main attraction of the past few months seemed serious to them. They were all aware that as long as Feng was still a child who had not been given an adult name, his father's word was law.

"Don't get so excited, Shirong!" Headman Wang suddenly took the floor. "Jiang's words are empty swamp wind. I don't mind Feng waving his arms and legs. I don't mind the rest of you waving your arms and legs. It doesn't break any laws. So, that's fine!"

Feng smirked. Of course, if he were to consider stopping the training of his fellow villagers, it would certainly not be because of the voice of a single fool.

"Hey, why is Feng practicing," a familiar childish voice exclaimed, and Feng tensed up, "and we are the only ones repeating after him while everyone else is standing there doing nothing? They only listen to stories, and for free!"

The crowd murmured again, but the outrage was now directed at Bokin, who had dared to interfere in adult conversations. Everyone hissed, and there was even the sound of a slap.

"You little brat!"

"No one asked you, you little brat!"

"You'll be bossing your mommy around!"

The indignant cries were interrupted by Master Yi.

"The kid says a thing!" he said. "If some people work and others only listen and poke their noses, it's not fair."

"Hey, Feng!" Basketmaker Yao asked. "Do these jiggles of yours really help? You said, "Live long and be healthy." But my health is not at all good. I feel that the underground demons will take me away, if not today, then tomorrow."

Feng thought for a moment. The qi in Yao's body was indeed flowing intermittently and with difficulty, and he resembled an almost extinguished fire with barely smoldering embers. But the qi was still flowing, which meant that there was no problem it couldn't solve.

"They sure do!" Feng said confidently. "But you, Grandpa Yao, will have to try hard, and I don't know whether you want to or not. It will be very hard and very, very painful!

"You silly little snot, Feng!" laughed the basket maker. "Young and healthy, you think you know everything! I'm already in pain, especially my knees and sides! Do you think a new pain will stop me? Hey, if you're not waving your arms, get outta here! Feng and I are busy!"

"My back's a little sore, too," nodded the headman. "We've always kept it simple in our village: lazy people don't belong here. So get out of here, Jiang, we're busy, we're practicing! And anyone who doesn't want to practice, get out too!"

"Hey, what are you guys up to?" Jiang exclaimed. "I just wanted to ask a question! I wouldn't mind becoming as strong as Feng!"

Feng laughed loudly and without restraint. He was laughing not at the other peasants, but at himself, who had suddenly carried the whole village on his back. Well, more students, more exercise for him.

"You won't become like me, Uncle Jiang! I'll teach you what I know, but it's up to you. The sun hasn't set yet, so there's plenty of time. Today, I'll tell you how Sun Yu and Ao Pei stole the jade statue from the sneaky moneylender Liao. And to hear my story better... Everyone gets into a dabu stand, you miserable swamp eggs! Without it, you can't become a carp and jump the dragon's gate!"

* * *

Feng picked up the brush and scrutinized the tip. It took several squirrels and one chipmunk to create this "masterpiece" until the result resembled anything resembling a brush rather than his mother's broom used to sweep dust and debris from the hut.

He took a deep inhale and exhale and ran his hand over the tabletop of his new table. The rough planks looked nothing like the polished wood of Han Nao's desk, though they were much more valued here in Duojia. To obtain them, one had to first fell the wood and then cut it with an iron saw forged by Master Yi like everything else.

Several inkpots made of coarse clay by Kun, the potter, contained various inks - from forest poisonous berries, from the decoction of swamp herbs, and simply from soot mixed with water.

A stack of yellowish paper with uneven edges, rough and lumpy, the result of the whole family's work, lay next to plates of wood, bamboo, burnt clay, large dried leaves, and even two precious little plates of iron and copper.

Taking another sheet of paper, Feng smoothed its edges, dipped it in ink, and slowly, carefully dosing it with qi while visualizing the desired result, wrote out two characters: "Heavy burden." He could see that the intention conveyed by qi was working. The raised edges of the paper instantly stuck to the boards of the table as if pressed down by an invisible weight. But after just a few breaths, the same thing that always happened - the paper shattered, partially crumbling into dust and partially disintegrating into small, uneven shreds. Feng sighed and piled them into the basket, along with the rest of the scraps of wood and stone.

As much as he hated to admit it, the talismans were a failure. Paper, wood, clay, and stone could not withstand the influence of qi and were inevitably destroyed. With metals, the situation was similar, though not exactly the same. Although the plates remained intact, they were badly corroded, and the qi contained in the inscription was gone, merging with the surrounding nature.

Feng seemed to be missing something important, something fundamental. The knowledge of how to inscribe properly. His efforts were like a child's first strokes trying to replicate a complex three-color engraving with his father's brush. An understanding of exactly how to structure and shape qi in order for it to perform the intended action. Materials that can withstand the filling of qi.

If knowledge and experience were something to be gained, then without materials to practice, it was doomed to failure. For some reason, there were no pieces of Qandong silk lying around, nor was there any of his favorite red ink. Nor were there any blocks of jade from which he could carve plaques like the one the Emperor used to recognize his most outstanding subjects.

With his gut, formed from the combination of qi from all three dantians, Feng sensed that the paper he had would not work. It wasn't about knowledge, control, or qi strength. The paper was simply bad, and the fact that the other materials were even worse didn't make it any better. To continue was only to ruin such a valuable and hard-won material that the family had put so much work into creating.

Yes, it was a success. Yes, the merchant willingly bought the resulting paper, no matter how bad it was. Yes, Feng had rightfully taken his share of the product, giving up the hard-earned money his father had offered him for his adult life. Yes, now he could return the paper and still get the money, which would make it much easier for him to leave the village.

But... There was one "but". The writing process, no matter how lousy the brush, ink, and paper were, was unexpectedly joyful. It was like taking Feng back to a different life, a life when the fun-loving and carefree Han Nao, so beloved by his parents and servants, had invented real treasures of thought and written them in calligraphic handwriting on scrolls, making simply very expensive pieces of silk truly priceless.

Feng's whole new life had a single purpose, and all his time was spent on surviving and gaining strength. It was only now, when he was able to feel the past right at his fingertips, that he realized what he had lost.

Perhaps taking all the joy away from him was also part of the ancestors' and master's plan. But then Feng would do anything to thwart those plans! And if he would learn to cook delicious food later when he left the village, if crystals, expensive even by the standards of a general's son, were a thing of the distant future, he could take up calligraphy at any time!

"I'll become you, you bastard. I'll become like you, as easygoing and carefree!" Feng hissed under his breath. "But this temporary hardship will be overcome right now!"

He took a piece of paper, dipped his brush into the inkwell, and wrote a calligraphic chain of hieroglyphics in unexpectedly beautiful purple forest berry ink.

* * *

Time flew by amid new problems and worries. Days, months, and seasons changed, and now he was walking through the forest, not Shitfeng, not a miserable foster boy and son of a city harlot, but a respected member of the village, a blacksmith's apprentice, the son of prosperous farmers and paper makers who had a few chickens, a cow, and even the roof of the house was covered not with straw but with tiles!

Feng's goal was mushrooms, which not only Master Yi but also Feng was very fond of. Feng found a kindred spirit in the blacksmith, not only for his love of wise sayings but also for good, tasty food. He was certainly not the true connoisseur that Han had been in his previous life, but he was still somewhat of a peer. Now Feng was not just swinging bellows, extracting hot stone, and telling stories, but he was also hammering and had achieved a great deal of success, albeit at the local village level. Their love of good food brought them very close, and Yi gave some good advice that helped Feng better understand the art of cooking.

Yes, he had long ago learned to survive, long ago learned the bitter science of subsistence, but now it was time to go to the next stage - to eat not only nourishingly but also deliciously.

Feng shortened his step, took a deep breath, and stopped.

"Come out," he said, turning around. "Do you think you cleverly hid?"

"Pfft," Big Sister Aimin appeared from behind a tree, puffing her cheeks unhappily.

She hid herself very cleverly indeed. She followed the wind, did not make any noise, did not crunch the branches and leaves, and despite her peasant life, she proved to be an expert hunter. If Feng had been a simple peasant, he would never have noticed her.

But Feng had stopped being "simple" a long time ago. His enhanced vision, hearing, and sense of smell, his enhanced perception that allowed him to sense life and qi, left Aimin no chance. To a person with his abilities, his sister stood out much more prominently than any peasant woman. She had already awakened her qi, but she had not learned how to hide it yet, so she shone like the eyes of the Thousand-Year Python that had been struck down by Bao Xiao's blade.

"Stop sulking," she said cheerfully, catching his cheek with her hand. "You're glad your big sister's here to help you!"

"I'm not sulking," Feng replied briefly.

Even though it was annoying, he knew that Aimin was also trying to cling to the remnants of her former life, where Feng was not the village's respected mentor, revered storyteller, or blacksmith's apprentice but just her little brother. He understood, but he couldn't do anything about the irritation.

The rubbing of his cheek interrupted his concentration of vision, and Feng blinked. Even though he had been heightening his senses long ago and unconsciously, it was times like this that the skill failed. He frowned, turned around, and staggered further in the direction he wanted to go.

"You're sulking," Aimin said, "because I revealed your secret again. Do you still imagine yourself to be a great warrior?"

Feng almost laughed out loud. He had long since raised his status, defeated a monster, and brought prosperity to his family. He didn't need to prove that he was a great warrior since there was no one stronger than him in the village. But as soon as Aimin saw a real spear in his hand instead of a sharpened bamboo stick, she started doing stupid things again.

Feng forged the spear himself, even without Master Yi's help. He mined the ore from the swamp nearby, heated it with qi, smelted the metal, and purified it from impurities. He used his hammer and qi to turn the metal billet into a sharp, long tip. He even found a suitable tree branch for the hilt, which he used the same qi to trim and rid of moisture. He wasn't much of a weapons expert, but he could see that the spear looked as good as his father's guardsmen's spears, standing out from anything else in the wilderness.

Although Feng hadn't hidden his qi training for a long time, he didn't show his weapon to anyone, following Master Yi's advice, realizing that its very presence would make any guard suspicious. But despite all his heightened senses, even though he had spotted Aimin in a few li, he forgot, did not pay attention, and lost his vigilance. And now he's got her for a traveling companion. The only hope is that she won't tell anyone anything, not because her tongue is different from her mother's broomstick, but simply because no one will pay much attention to the words "Feng walked through the forest with a spear!" thinking that he had just a pointy stick.

"Are you still chasing after Master Yi?" He asked back, partly to distract and partly to tease.

"Hey, how do you talk to your big sister?" Aimin was indignant.

Feng dodged the slap, restraining the hand that was about to strike back. Even though the village recognized his strength, beating up a girl and even his sister was not something anyone would approve of. Yes, now he could beat up many, many people, maybe even the whole village, but what next? And, most importantly, why?

"Or mushrooms aren't for him?"

"You're too young for this kind of thing, that's what!" Aimin snapped at him, trying again.

Feng dodged again and laughed resentfully. His training had made his sister's movements faster and stronger, but they were no match for his capabilities.

"Look, you really do think you're a warrior," Aimin used the usual taunts to hide her resentment. "But don't worry, your older sister will look after you while you pick mushrooms, so you don't bang your head on a rock again!"

Chattering, bragging, and reminiscing about past mistakes didn't annoy him but rather made him laugh. If Aimin was a worthy opponent, then her antics could be used for training because he had long since gotten into the habit of using everything annoying and disgusting in the peasants' lives for training. But things had changed for Feng long ago, so he needed something better and weightier than the words of an offended girl.

And to his surprise, as if gods and demons had overheard his thoughts, that "better" appeared.

"Stop!" he raised his hand. There was a strange change in the natural background of the forest. The life force seemed to distort and subside.

Blaming himself for his carelessness, Feng regained his qi vision. The forest once again bloomed with myriad colors and hues, sparks of forest spirits, and traces of living creatures. And some of these creatures were approaching very quickly.

"We're not here yet," Aiming giggled, wanting to get even with Feng for talking openly about what the whole village was already gossiping about.

"Let's go, quick!" he said.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Aimin said capriciously, not realizing the seriousness of the situation.

"Run, you fool!" Feng couldn't take it anymore. "There's no time to explain!"

"Who are you calling a fool, you little brat? You think if you become a..."

"Quiet," Feng hissed angrily, realizing he was too late anyway.

The once-learned scroll about dangerous beasts came to mind, and Feng immediately recognized the animals had come toward them. They were wolves - brown-gray, spotted wolves, the most dangerous of all. Something had made them move here, for they usually lived in more flat lands and preferred to stay away from the mountains and swamps. But the unfamiliar terrain, of course, did not deprive them of their skills of hunting in packs, nor of sharp curved claws and spikes on the tips of their long tails, nor of fangs that emitted paralyzing poison, which worked even on large, powerful beasts, let alone humans.

As the scroll said, they surrounded their prey, and at least one of them was in an advantageous position to lash out with its fangs or whip its equally poisonous tail. And then it was just a matter of waiting for the prey to weaken and lose the ability to resist. The beasts living near the big cities had learned firsthand that it was not worth it to mess with bipedal creatures. But these had no fear of humans at all.

"Get behind me and retreat slowly toward the swamp," he ordered, keeping his eyes on the pack.

If the wolves had managed to surround them, it would have been all over. But luckily, the Bai Mow Gu mushrooms grew in the middle of the swamps, which prevented the wolves from moving freely. The wolves were not accustomed to forests either.

Feng stared at the pack, trying to keep them in his field of vision, intensifying the qi pressure. He couldn't concentrate on one beast, look into their eyes to defeat them on sheer willpower alone. After all, the moment he did that, the others would all pounce at once. If Feng had been able to throw fire beams or fierce lightning from his eyes like the villains in the crystals, he would have destroyed them all in a few moments. But alas, killing with a glance was not something he knew how to do yet. Feng gripped his spear tighter, trying not to panic and to think of something, to find some way out.

"Why are there so many wolves here?" Aimin said in a slightly trembling voice. "And why do they look so strange? And are they wolves at all?"

"Retreat to the swamp! Make sure I don't hit a rock there!" Feng growled.

Qi Feng's pressure only slowed down the wolves for a short while. Alas, he was too small, so he couldn't seriously intimidate them. However, it would not have been possible for a single adult, not counting, of course, the bastard master who would chase the wolves with his stick and make them run with their knees high or do push-ups in the middle of the swamp. The creatures were only afraid of large groups of hunters, in which case they preferred to avoid a fight and find an easier target.

If Feng was alone, he would climb up a tree and try to escape overhead, jumping from branch to branch with his qi. Although, the wolves would probably chase him to the village, and it would only get worse. Even though several of Feng's 'disciples' had already awakened qi, they had no combat experience yet. They would panic, and instead of gathering together and fighting, they would scatter to the sides. Unlike their forest counterparts, these kinds of wolves were not afraid of carrion. So, if they didn't get a decent fight, they would kill adults and children, cows, goats and chickens, and anyone who fell into their fangs and claws. And then they would feast in the village until the guards arrived or there was nothing to eat.

Even though Feng had already fought to the death once, he was very scared. He wanted to squeal like a child of his age and run away from the danger. With the abilities gained through qi, running away would have been very easy. However, what changed everything was the presence of Aimin. It did not give him the courage and determination of a hero of the crystal, nor was it a silly, childish desire not to embarrass himself in front of the girl. He was fully aware of the limits of his current strength and realized that it would be impossible for him to escape. Even if he strengthened his body and lifted his older sister, it would be impossible to run away faster than wolves or jump through the trees with such a load.

Damn her! She's always causing trouble!

"They're all around us! They are not beasts but demons!" Aimin's voice trembled even more.

Feng felt very offended. He had endured so much, trained so desperately, and overcome so many obstacles, only to flee from some stupid mutts in the most unheroic way!

"They are meat!" Feng roared.

Alas, even this battle cry did not frighten the wolves. They took a step back in surprise but came closer again.

The Qi inside was bubbling and boiling, giving him a sense of omnipotence, pushing him to take the battle and kill. Feng realized that he could stab two, at most three of the closest ones, but... then what? The hard years of peasant life had taught him to plan and to think about the consequences of actions and words. In order not to die in winter, one had to look ahead to spring, fall, and summer. And he did not like the picture the future was showing him now!

"Hold the spear!" He shouted, jumping up on the spot.

The qi was already swirling, spreading through his body, strengthening and strengthening him. He picked up Aimin like a bale of straw and rushed toward the swamp, feeling like a heavy and clumsy snail, a pathetic, weak tadpole. Aimin shrieked and jabbed her spear backward, but Feng rushed on, feeling the qi steadily approaching and closing around him. Several lunges followed, but he managed to dodge. Alas, the heavy weight on his back was not only slowing him down but also depriving him of balance, so the teeth of some lucky beast tore into his leg.

Aimin flew down and rolled on the sagging ground with a shrieking clump, staying in the marshy puddle. Feng, who had managed to pull the spear out of her hands, let out another battle cry. He was actually just shouting, but it was much better for his ego to call it a battle cry.

Feng's lunge was as fast as a pitchfork sticking into a sheaf of hay. The tip pierced through the body of the jumping wolf and spattered with blood as it emerged from the wolf's back. The heavy carcass immediately pulled him to the ground, and only the extreme tension of his muscles and the chi in his body kept him on his feet. He jerked his spear as hard as he could and, as if he were a haystack, threw the wolf behind him without looking. The carcass slid off the shaft and flew straight at the target, knocking another beast to the ground. The smell of blood hit his nostrils, and the rage of qi bubbling in his body almost blinded his eyes. Struggling to maintain clarity of thought, Feng turned around and struck, almost without looking, guided only by the sensation of qi. A post-mortem squeal showed that he hadn't missed and had gotten another wolf. He crouched down, missing the tail that whistled over his head and blocking another with the shaft of his spear. A clawed paw tore into his side, and he slammed his hand down hard, hearing the crunch of bones and a pitiful howl.

Ignoring the pain, he leaped toward Aimin. She was already being attacked by two wolves. He landed on the back of one of them, breaking its backbone with his reinforced qi feet, and grabbed the other by the tail, spinning it around and throwing it away. The beast slammed into its fellows, who were lunging for their prey, knocking them to the ground.

"Go deep!" Feng commanded, feeling his eyes blurring from the exertion and wounds.

He didn't let go of the qi control, which not only strengthened his body but also suppressed the poison that came through the bite. His spiritual perception showed that the qi flow in Aimin's body was disrupted, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed traces of blood on her clothes. The wolves were already rising, tentatively tasting the water with their paws, cowering and growling. With crystal clarity, Feng realized he had no choice. Even though he was not yet a carp, and even as a fry, he was barely a carp. He would either climb this "waterfall" or die and destroy Aimin.

He did not have enough hands, so he did not hesitate to throw the wicker basket off his shoulders, which, thanks to his grandfather Yao's training, did not resemble those first crooked and clumsy creations, as if they had been specially designed to torture the eyes of the connoisseurs of beauty by their mere appearance. He grabbed the spear closer to the tip and threw it behind my back, wrapping his qi around the hilt to keep it from falling to the ground.

Qi surged again. He picked up Aimin in his arms, channeling the energy through his feet into the thin, shaking layer of swampy earth and the dark, murky water beneath it. He had been able to do this in his previous life and had attempted it successfully in this one. But in the past, he had always been light, in a calm environment or fighting in a training match, and he had never had to hold a chi with an uncomfortable shaft or carry a heavy moving weight on his hands. What he would have been afraid to try before, he did. He steadied the water and stepped resolutely deeper into the swamp, where the already unreliable ground thinned into open water.

Feng immediately staggered and nearly fell, only by exerting his qi and body to keep his balance. Even though the matter was very difficult, he was still filled with joy and triumph. He did it without any help or ridiculous instructions from the bastard master, who did not explain anything, preferring to beat Han on the back with a stick and call him obscene words.

"Eat it, you creatures!" Feng roared, turned around, and ran.

He would have liked to walk slowly, but the water bent and parted under his feet, trying to pull him into the mire. It was much easier to keep his balance while running, and the wolves could not bear the sight of the slipping victim, so they howled and snarled at him. They were so unwilling to let such sweet, accessible prey escape that they lost all caution.

Although the book that the rogue master made him memorize was about fighting in military units, the tricks described in it were also suitable for single combat. Therefore, in full accordance with the treatise "Fighting Strategies of the Indomitable Dragon," Feng "showed weakness to force the enemy to lose strength."

In passing, he praised himself for not letting go of his qi vision even in such a deadly situation and rushed forward to a firm, secure, and harmless-looking clearing, whose true nature was revealed only by the small scatterings of those delicious-looking red berries Han Nao had once memorized the scroll describing them.

The wolves rushed after him, howling and snapping their fangs. Some of the wolves' paws fell through at once, others went a little farther, and only one managed to slip through and reach Feng. But he had already reached the spreading roots of a low marsh tree, turned around, and holding Aiming with one hand, with the other, he snatched his spear from his back and thrust it forward. The sharpened point pierced the wolf's chest and exited his back. Feng let go of his sister, grasped the hilt with his other hand, pulled it back, twisted the spearhead in the wound, and roared into the wolf's grinning maw.

"You'll never be like me, you bastard!" Feng yelled. "I am the lord of qi and meat!"

He released the shaft from his hands, grasped the big, scraggly head, and, with a sharp movement of his qi-enhanced arms, snapped the wolf's neck. He bent down, sank his teeth into the neck with savage bloodlust, and ripped out a large chunk of hide, meat, and veins. The remnants of the pack shuddered and tried to turn and run away, but they failed, only to become more entangled in the mire. Feng spat the meat and warm blood out of his mouth and tossed the wolf's corpse aside, thinking in passing that it should be cut up and eaten and the hide processed and sold. Of course, he had nothing but a spear and a miserable knife left in a basket, and the task ahead of him was daunting.

"I have qi, that's enough," he muttered mockingly.

Memories of his master, as always, triggered hatred and a surge of power. Feng directed his qi at the bite points, burning away the weakness and poison, dispersing the blood, and closing the wounds. Then he remembered Aimin, turned around, and leaned over her, relieved to realize she was still alive. The wounds looked very bad. A normal person would have died long ago. If the sister didn't possess qi, even the basics, the poison would have reached her heart long ago unless, of course, the loss of blood had killed her earlier.

But no matter what, Aimin's gaze was fading. Feng turned to his heart dantian, channeled pure healing qi into his hands, and thrust his palms directly into his elder sister's wounds, rushing to transfer some of his power. Luckily, he realized in time, and before the irreparable happened, he moderated the energy flow, making it smooth and even, just like the bastard master had once taught him. Burn out the poison, remove the dirt and debris, speed up the flow of her energy, and give her vitality: smoothly and carefully, without rushing or slowing down. It wasn't long before Feng noticed Aiming was reviving, and a blush was coming to her cheeks.

"You... you..." she mumbled, "you fought the wolves."

"There was no way out," Feng replied. "And don't move, you're wounded."

"You," Aimin repeated, "killed them."

"Not all of them," Feng shook his head at the whimpering beasts. "But I will."

He had defeated new fierce opponents, had done so even with a still wounded body on his side, and had used not only his strength but also his knowledge in battle. He could be pleased and proud of his achievement, but he didn't feel like a winner. Besides, something was still bothering him.

The inconsistency of the creatures' behavior, the lack of understanding of what they are doing in unfamiliar terrain, and the too reasonable and deliberate behavior, though not strikingly, still diverging from that described in the scrolls.

Feng hadn't forgotten the battle with the river beast, so even though he could sense the life that still filled the beast, he mixed all three types of qi and released it in a wide, weak wave, as if he was causing the calm swamp water to spin in circles with a thrown stone.

As it turned out, he did it just in time. The qi instantly highlighted not only Aimin and the wolves, not only revealed all the small animals that Feng had already sensed with the edge of his consciousness, but also revealed something big, strong, and, judging by the flavor of the qi, very fierce and bloodthirsty.

Sensing Feng's energy, the creature immediately realized it had been discovered and immediately stopped hiding. One of the large bushes in the distance rippled, its foliage turning into patches and then disappearing, revealing the same brown-gray skin as the rest of the wolves. The hitherto hidden qi flared brightly, radiating anger and a sucking, all-consuming hunger.

The wolves, seeing the leader, howled and twitched with joy, but they sank deeper into the swamp.

Feng was not the least bit pleased when he got the answers to his questions. The leader was huge, even bigger than his parents' cow, and possessed two short, sharp horns filled with glowing qi in addition to fangs, tail, and claws. Feng marveled at the sneakiness and ruthlessness of the beast, which did not hesitate to use the pack members to probe and scout the enemy, apparently intending to take their prey if successful, if unsuccessful, to assess the enemy and decide whether to attack or flee.

Feng gathered qi and ran it through his body, trying to appear as strong and imposing as possible, to instill fear in the enemy, or worry that the enemy was beyond him, that it would be better to retreat and devour his kin rather than him.

The creature slowly took a few steps forward, licking its long, split-tipped tongue as if anticipating the meal to come.

There was still hope for the swamp's defenses. The creature weighed much more than the rest of the pack, so it could not pass. But, alas, this hope was not realized. The creature stepped into the trap of the swamp mire, but not only did it not fall through, but releasing the qi from its wide paws, it moved forward confidently.

There was no escape, and there were still only two choices: to die with Aimin or to fight. The chances of being reborn were high in the second case, but this way, there was at least a ghostly chance of survival.

Feng grabbed his spear and ran forward towards the creature, but slightly to the side to prevent it from deciding that Aimin, lying on quite secure roots, was a more accessible and appetizing prey.

It was surprisingly easy to walk through the water unladen, so as Feng ran past one of the wolves, he jabbed it in the neck with his spear. The wolf whimpered and twitched.

"Do you hear that, creature?" Feng yelled. "It will be the same with you!"

The monster roared and rushed forward.

"Only cowards huddle together in a pack!" Feng shouted his quote from his past life.

The creature jumped. Feng strained his qi to the limit, feeling everything around him move in slow motion, like a slow-motion scene from a crystal. With a swipe of his palm, he deflected the clawed paw, dodged the whistling tail and snapping jaws, pushed off with his feet, and jumped onto the scythe's back. He swung his spear as hard as he could and plunged it into the creature's scruff, already celebrating his imminent victory.

If it had been that simple, the creature would never have been able to become a leader. The spear struck the incredibly tough hide and slid like a training sword through the Guardsman's battle armor. The tail whistled, and Feng did a somersault and sprang away.

Dodging punches and bites, he thought hard. The task was more difficult than it seemed at first glance, moving a couple of steps closer to the "impossible" mark. He sensed that the creature hadn't used qi. Such hardness was a property of the hide itself.

As if to demonstrate that he needed his qi for other things, the monster roared. Feng bent his legs at the knees and jumped away, rolling on the water surface. A bright blast of fire struck the spot where he had just been standing, coming from between the horns of a creature that was no longer considered a wolf.

Feng stood on the water and carefully guided the tip of his spear, waiting for another attack. But to his horror, the leader lost interest in him. He sniffed the air with his nose, yapping mockingly as if asking: "What can you do to me now?" and turned his head sideways to where Aimin still lay.

To his annoyance, Feng realized that the creature was right. A spear could not pierce the skin, hitting the small eyes was hindered by the heavy brow, and hitting it in the mouth, as he had once done to the river master, was suicidal because of the leader's fire techniques.

Feng could fill the spear with qi, but he felt that a simple reinforcement would not penetrate this hide, and the Fire he had learned to control in the forge would only destroy the weapon without harming the fire-type creature in the slightest.

During his time at the forge, Feng not only heated the furnace, mastering Fire, not only cooled the workpieces, using the power of Water but also learned to purify copper and iron, mastering Metal. But he didn't have a good grasp of those elements, and the only metal he had was his spearhead and a small, dirty lump of ore somewhere in the depths of the swamp. Neither Wood nor Earth, which would have been helpful in such an environment, were in Feng's control.

A clear and distinct thought arose in his mind, dictated not by cowardice or cowardice but by a sober assessment of the situation. He could just leave. While the creature was busy with Aimin, he could get far enough away, and then he could just run as fast as he could, moving through the trees if necessary.

Aimin was stupid, arrogant, and unbearable; she annoyed and infuriated him, and he had no special affection for her. He could not win this fight, for all circumstances were against him, and no one in the village knew they were in the forest together.

To leave. It was a very good and very reasonable decision, bearing no consequences, neither moral nor physical. Yes, it was frustrating, but no one died of frustration, unlike fangs, claws, spikes, and fire techniques. But that would be the decision of a wise tadpole, maybe even a fry, but by no means a carp striving for the dragon's gate.

"The weak cherish grudges, the strong change themselves and the world," his own quote flashed through his mind, and Feng smiled with relief. Yes, he could leave. But then it wouldn't be Han Nao leaving here, striving to become a hero and surpass his master, but... it would just be Feng, a scared kid from Duojia, a village that the gods blow their nose at. And if there was no choice, then what was the point of filling his head with unnecessary thoughts when there was a great training session to be had?

Feng ran his hand along the spear shaft, letting the qi flow through it. He had chosen a very good and strong wood, the strongest wood he could find. He had forged the tip himself, and even if it never turned into Star Steel, there was nothing better in the entire province!

He absorbed his qi and raised his leg, resting his foot on the knee of his other leg, standing on the water's surface. He clutched the spear in one hand and folded the other in a gesture of concentration, closing himself off from the world around him.

The enemy, having lost his presence, became agitated, shaking his head. But the sweet, appetizing Aimin beckoned with its defenseless body, which it wanted to sink its fangs into, so the creature took a few more steps forward.

Feng opened his eyes and swayed, leaning almost to the water as if he were floating on the surface. Still holding the gesture of concentration, he extended his spear forward, making it seem like an extension of his body. The qi swirled but remained in his body, unable to break free of the shackles that held it. The only way out was through his hand, into the hilt, and the spearhead.

Feng had never done such a thing. He had only read mention of it in the scrolls in passing. But would such a thing stop a hero? The handle of the spear became hot and smoky, unable to contain the fire qi. Feng carefully, as if he was practicing healing, added the qi transformed into Water to it. In his previous life, there was no way he would be able to do this again because even for true masters, it would take decades, not years. The qi from the upper dantian already strengthened his control, and combined with the heart qi that helped him to sense his state, turned the task from hopeless to just very difficult.

The two elements mingled to produce the same thing that always happens in a thunderstorm when glimpses of heavenly fire appear during water pouring from the clouds. The point of the spear, red-hot, glowed a brilliant blue light, and zigzags of small lightning flickered on it, flowing to the hilt.

Like an arrow fired by a skillful archer, Feng flew forward, straight at the monster. Only at the last moment did he let go of his concentration, intercepted the shaft with his other hand, and thrust it as hard as he could into the demonic wolf's body. Of course, he didn't take any chances and bet on whether the spear, even if reinforced with dual elements, would penetrate the monster's tough hide. So he aimed the point at the most reliable and vulnerable place - under the spiky tail.

At the last moment, the monster sensed something and twitched, trying to turn around, but it was too late. Feng easily adjusted the position of the spear and thrust it to the middle of the hilt.

The creature's body twitched in convulsions. Lightning flashed across its hide, rippling every hair, every spike, and scale. A blast of fire flew from its horns and into the sky.

The handle, unable to withstand the chi, began to crumble in his hands, and Feng yanked it toward him, pulling the spear out of the creature's ass. Without even thinking about the squeamishness, he grabbed the bruised tip, which had miraculously not fallen off the shattered shaft, and ran to the side of the creature, avoiding a possible attack. The tip gripped tightly in the palm of his hand, left a heavy burn, but Feng ignored the pain, pointing it at the creature, ready to repel another attack.

Which was never followed. The qi vision showed that the life and qi had finally left the monster's body. It was now slowly sinking into the mire.

A trophy! If Feng hesitated, no one would believe him or Aiming, thinking it was just a childish lie. He slipped the spearhead into his belt and pulled it toward the shore, grabbing the tail of the creature that was almost submerged.

The wolves, watching his actions, finally realized their fate, whimpering pitifully.

Feng grinned: the creatures had gotten his intentions exactly right. After dragging the leader to dry land, Feng leisurely approached each of the wolves and, like a peasant woman rounding up the goats at morning milking, thrust the tip of his spear into each one's eye. When he had dragged the carcasses to the shore, he picked up his basket, threw in his trusty spearhead, and hung it on his shoulders, then returned to the islet and bent over Aimin.

She looked at him with wide-open eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and it couldn't be put down to blush alone. Feng suddenly saw that in his haste to heal, he had torn Aimin's clothes, and she now lay beneath him, almost naked. The wretched scraps did little to hide her chest and neck, which had also turned red.

Feng absentmindedly thought that qi exercises and training had not benefited anyone in the village as much as his sister. Her skin was as clear as the finest jade, her legs had become slimmer, her waist thinner, her breasts more rounded, and her face more delicate, almost aristocratic.

She was breathing heavily and looking at him as if he had suddenly reincarnated into a blacksmith Yi. Feng was slightly embarrassed, feeling a burning sensation in his lower abdomen that definitely had nothing to do with the lower dantian!

"You killed them all!" Aimin whispered with her scarlet plump lips.

His body lurched forward as if of its own accord, hovering even more over his sister. But he shook his head, chasing away the daze. He was fine! Han was already an adult in his previous life, so his attraction to beautiful women was understandable and natural. But Aimin! What was Aimin thinking? After all, to her, Feng was a child who was not even twelve years old!

"I've killed and killed," he said roughly, rising, "they shouldn't mess with me."

No matter how beautiful Aimin became, she couldn't compare to Mei. His body was still trying to show signs that he and Aimin were not blood relatives, but Feng had already taken his body by the throat and squeezed it, preventing his desires from taking over. Mei appeared before his eyes in the arms of the bastard master teacher, and the boiling rage instantly helped him come to his senses. Feng dispersed the churning blood and qi through his body, directing it to the wounds and burns, speeding up the healing.

"You really are a great warrior," Aimin suddenly said and sat up.

"I have yet to become one!" Feng laughed.

She covered herself with her arms, trying to cover her ragged body, and Feng exhaled in relief. Another problem seemed to have passed, although compared to the pack of wolves, it was all small things. He released some qi from his fingertips and smiled involuntarily, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Aiming shuddered and moved away.

Feng crouched down and scooped up the swamp water, cleansing it of mud and tiny demons like his master had once shown him. Washing the blood off his face, he thought that he now had something to cut up the wolves with, but should he do it here, or would it be better to drag them to the village? He should have warned Aimin to keep her quiet about the details of the battle. Though, somewhere deep inside, Feng knew it was useless. When she recovered from the shock, she would tell the whole village, embellishing it beyond recognition. He thought about it for a moment, but he didn't want to scare her half to death.

"You're a warrior!" His sister wouldn't give up. "And a great one! No one could handle these monsters!"

"No," Feng replied, "I'm not a great warrior yet, not even a carp yet."

"What?" Aimin moved further away. "Were you bitten? Feng, have you lost your mind again? Or is someone possessed?"

"You guessed it," Feng thought cheerfully, still looking into the water as if admiring the reflection, which turned out to be as good as the best silver mirror in the standing swamp water. Even though Feng aspired to become a master, he only wanted to do so in a spiritual sense, not a bodily one. Fortunately, the water reflected a beautiful face with correct features that could already be called youthful, not childish. And this face didn't resemble the master's disgusting, sly, and smug face! However, Feng's goal was not only to become like his master but also to surpass him. The fact that he was already surpassing him in appearance made his goal seem much closer.

Yes, Han became Feng, but Feng also became Han. They originally shared the same soul, so they became one almost immediately. The question had two opposite answers, each of which was correct.

"No, it didn't," he answered briefly, stood up and commanded. "We have to get out of here and get the wolves before the rest of the animals come in. "

"But how are we going to get back across the swamp?"

"I'll have to take you in my arms again or put you on my back," Feng grumbled.

He could lift a huge load with his qi, but that didn't mean his arms got longer and his body grew to the size of a tree. It wasn't good to throw so much meat and bones, but how to carry them? Carry Aimin, then come back? What if more wolves came? Drag the corpses first? While you're dragging one, the beasts will scatter the others and shut down the Aimin! Qi can help, but it can't drag them all at once. If he had a spatial ring like the heroes of the crystals...

Feng shook his head. Yeah! He hadn't learned how to make simple talismans yet, and he had already wanted such artifacts! The ring, of course, could not be made but only bought from a master, which, judging by the crystals, was available in every more or less large city. Unfortunately, not in the nearest town - Feng had already asked the merchant, but he only offered jewelry and had never heard of real rings. Feng was sure that such a thing would cost a fortune, more than the whole village! And even though his family was wealthy, he didn't have that kind of money yet.

Immersed in thought, he did not immediately realize that something was missing. There was a strange and unaccustomed silence. He turned around and saw Aimin was still standing there, red again, covering herself and her rags with her hands.

"In your arms?" She asked in a strangely high-pitched voice. "Do you want to carry me in your arms?"

"Yes, perhaps it would be better to sew up your clothes first," Feng decided, averting his gaze.

"But we're in the middle of a swamp, and we have nothing!"

Feng snorted, unable to help himself.

"What did I always say at practice?"

"I have qi, that's enough!" Aimin obediently repeated and hesitantly added: "Absolutely!"

Feng turned away again and stared at the pile of wolf corpses lying on the shore. He seemed to have invented a problem where there was none. He has qi, too. Just beyond the swamps, tall trees are starting to grow. It will be difficult, but if you drag the creatures into the trees and hang them from the branches, you can take Aimin home and return immediately, preferably with help from his best disciples. He even has a rope in his basket, though not a long one, but enough to bind his paws. One creature, preferably the leader, could be taken at once. If only his injury had been a little more... heroic.

There was a loud sob behind him, and Feng realized that the tension he'd been holding back for a long time was ready to erupt in the usual girlish sobs, which again, he wasn't ready for. He turned to his sister again, for the third time, and glared at her.

"I couldn't do anything," she whimpered, choking back tears. "Even though I practiced."

"If it weren't for qi, you'd be dead by now," Feng said stiffly, taking a moment between sobs. "I wouldn't have had time to heal you. But now, as you can see, there isn't even a scar left. The blacksmith will be happy."

Aiming to hear about the scars, she sobbed even more.

"But you're right, you didn't do well," Feng added. "So you will be punished."

The sobs stopped almost instantly as if in crystal, when someone activated the silence dome talisman.

"Punishment?" Aiming's voice was almost normal, with only occasional sobs. "Are you going to punish me?"

"Of course not!" Feng said cheerfully. "How can you call it punishment when someone helps you overcome your shortcomings and become stronger? Sorry, I misspoke. A reward! And I'll reward you with a hundred laps around the village, knees high! Which will allow you to become much faster and tougher, able to run away from any monster ever!"

"Can you not hit me with a bamboo stick?" The sister suggested cautiously as if she didn't believe in the success of her words.

"But then the Great Triad would be lacking a key component: training the spirit to endure hardship and face the future with a clear eye," Feng replied thoughtfully.

"But my spirit is strong enough as it is!" Aimin didn't give up.

"You know," Feng agreed abruptly, "it can be arranged. But on one condition."

"Which one?" Aimin couldn't believe her luck.

"If you tell the village I hit the fiercest monster in the eye!"

* * *

Chapter 15, in which the hero meets a new life in every possible sense of the word