bullyxtreme Chapter 14 Breathing Exercises
Chapter 14 Breathing Exercises
At 9 PM, the night was already deep.
A bronze lamp was placed on the corner of the table, its flame flickering slightly, barely illuminating the unfolded bamboo slips.
Zhao Heng was flipping through several old scrolls he had found in the library of his mansion.
It was called a library, but it was really just a narrow room in the west wing. The shelves were filled with bamboo slips, mostly miscellaneous notes from various countries and travelogues, which were not systematic and were arranged haphazardly. But it was precisely these miscellaneous things that he needed right now.
The bamboo slips are old, the binding ropes are badly worn, and the ink has faded somewhat; some characters can only be discerned by holding them up to the light.
Zhao Heng didn't mind. He read slowly, spreading the scroll out on the table, pressing down the scroll with his left hand to prevent it from rolling up, and moving his right index finger along the characters, comparing them one by one.
He wasn't looking for any official history.
There were some proper historical records in the library, but not many, and most of them were official records compiled by the Zhao royal family. It didn't make much difference whether you read them or not. He flipped through these miscellaneous notes to compare the "history" in his memory with the "reality" written about the world before him.
Fortunately, events such as the Battle of Changping and the Siege of Handan are consistent with official historical records, and Zhao Heng could even find records of the Siege of Handan in copies of historical materials kept in his residence.
"Qin besieged Handan, and the situation was dire... Lord Wei Wuji seized Jin Bi's army to rescue Zhao, and the Qin army withdrew."
These major connections align with memory.
However, some details made Zhao Heng ponder deeply.
For example, in a volume of a wandering scholar's miscellaneous notes, there is this passage:
"...In the seventh year of the king's reign, Handan was besieged. A man dressed in black sneaked over the city walls at night, intending to assassinate Lord Pingyuan. The man carried a sword and climbed the three-zhang-high wall as if walking on steps, without making a sound. Among Lord Pingyuan's retainers was a skilled swordsman, whose name was unknown. He fought the man in the courtyard. The sword energy was so intense that the candlelight was extinguished. At dawn, the man dressed in black was found dead in the courtyard, a line of red blood on his throat, while the retainer was also wounded in the arm, his clothes half-stained with blood."
Three zhang, or ten meters high, is a height that would be difficult for an ordinary person to climb with a ladder, yet it is described here as "as easy as walking on stairs."
If one were to say that a volume of miscellaneous notes exaggerates, perhaps the author was simply curious. However, another volume, *Strange Tales of Chu*, contains the following record:
"In the past, when Qin general Bai Qi attacked Yan and Ying, a swordsman from Chu led three hundred elite warriors in a night raid on the Qin camp, beheading over a thousand. The Qin army was terrified, and it was rumored that the Chu people possessed witchcraft and could control sword energy. Later investigation revealed that there was an ancient swordsmanship tradition in the former land of Jingchu, whose power was so fierce that it was beyond the reach of ordinary people."
Zhao Heng put down the bamboo slips and leaned back.
This world, in general, follows the same trajectory as the history he knows. Qin's eastward expansion, Zhao's resistance against Qin, the alliances and counter-alliances, the conflicts between the states... these remain unchanged.
But in the details, there are clearly more things.
Individual martial prowess was amplified, and swordsmanship and movement techniques were described in ways that defied common sense. In some cases, terms like "sword energy," "qi manipulation," and "internal force" even appeared openly.
But these things did not change the overall trend of the world. The Zhao army suffered another crushing defeat at the Battle of Changping, the siege of Handan still required Lord Xinling to come to its rescue, and the Qin state continued its eastward advance step by step.
However, under the rules of this world, it seems that individual power can also pry open even larger gaps.
Swords can be faster, people can leap higher, assassinations in the dark are perhaps even more difficult to defend against, and a crucial duel can truly influence the course of a local battle...
The sound of a wooden clapper came from outside the window.
Zhao Heng blew out the bronze lamp.
A maidservant was staying in the side room to keep watch. Zhao Heng was still awake, and she seemed to want to persuade him, but the young master had changed so much in the past two days, and his natural authority made her afraid to speak. So she had already fallen asleep.
Zhao Heng did not disturb her and entered the inner room in the dark.
However, after he got onto the bed, he sat down cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to try the "Guigu Breathing Technique".
The bamboo scroll that Wei Jia had given him during the day was not with him at the moment, but he had already memorized its contents. The incantation on the scroll was not complicated: "Inhale as if drawing silk, exhale as if long and continuous; focus your mind on the dantian, let your spirit roam in the vast emptiness."
Surprisingly, this method worked exceptionally well for him.
During the first attempt, my breathing was still a bit erratic, but within just two breaths, a rhythm that seemed to be deeply rooted in my body's instincts naturally awakened.
This was not the instinct of this eleven-year-old body, but rather something deeper, as if it were an innate instinct that came with him from his time travel.
Like a traveler who once reached the summit, even when returning to the foot of the mountain, the rhythm of the climb is still etched in their bones.
With a thought, a warm feeling quickly gathered in the dantian. At first, it was as faint as a spark, but as it flowed with the rhythm of breathing, the warmth gradually became clearer and condensed deep in the sea of qi.
After just one basic cycle, his breathing had become completely stable.
Zhao Heng could clearly sense that his five senses had become exceptionally sharp under the operation of the technique.
The rustling of a maid turning over in her sleep, the rustling of leaves being blown by the wind several feet outside the window, the footsteps of a night patrolman outside the mansion wall in the distance... all these subtle sounds were clearly discernible, as if reflected in water.
However, he did not continue to indulge in this novel feeling. Instead, he followed the natural flow and continued to practice the breathing technique, guided by the instinct awakening deep within his body.
With each inhale, the breath is like a deep valley breeze, long and deep, flowing straight to the dantian; with each exhale, the turbid air is slowly expelled, almost tangible, and the speed at which the warm sensation flows through the meridians subtly increases.
This is a skill that should take beginners several days or even months to master, but he mastered it as if it were a natural process.
That kind of proficiency was both strange and familiar, as if this body had never learned it before. However, the rhythm of breathing, the flow of thoughts, and the direction of internal energy were all so precise that it seemed as if they had been practiced hundreds of times.
He didn't know where this instinct came from—was it a hidden talent of this body, or a gift from those chaotic memories...
But that didn't stop him from going with the flow.
He originally only intended to practice this basic breathing technique until he reached the beginner level, but since he had such a talent for it, he naturally continued to practice.
The speed of the breath flowing through the specific meridians becomes more and more stable. A warm current rises from the dantian, ascends along the Ren meridian, passes through the Tanzhong point, reaches the Baihui point, then descends along the Du meridian, returns to the Mingmen point, and then enters the dantian again.
A complete cycle was quietly completed during the third cycle.
Where the warm current passes, the lingering coldness in the body and the stagnation in the meridians left after falling into the water quietly melt away, like ice and snow meeting the sun.
The simplified text of "Guiguzi's Breathing Technique" mentions that although this technique is a basic method, if one can practice it to the point of "breathing becoming rhythmic and breathing rotating on its own," then even when walking, sitting, lying down, or fighting with others, there is no need to consciously operate the technique; the technique will naturally work in the breath, continuously.
In addition, this method is said to "circulate Qi throughout the body, making it difficult for evil to invade," meaning that after the internal energy circulates in a self-sustaining cycle, it can resist the harm of ordinary miasma, smoke, and even poison for a period of time. Although it is not immune to all poisons, it is much better than being completely unprepared.
Zhao Heng circulated his energy for another two cycles.
When the warm current returned to the dantian for the fifth time, it was no longer the faint spark it had been at the beginning, but rather solidified like an egg, gently and quietly dormant deep within the dantian.
Even though he stopped practicing his exercises, his breathing naturally took on a certain rhythm, long and deep. Each inhale seemed to be accumulating, and each exhale seemed to be cleansing.
He slowly finished his practice.
The warm current did not completely dissipate, but settled in the dantian and the main meridians of the body, like spring water seeping into the soil, continuously nourishing this young body.
The heightened hearing and vision, which were previously sharper, did not diminish; on the contrary, they became even more persistent and clear due to the initial stabilization of internal energy.
When he lay down, he did not deliberately maintain a cultivation posture, but simply lay on his side as usual. However, with each breath, the warm and gentle feeling still flowed naturally in his meridians. Although it was not as obvious as when he actively circulated them, it was continuous and gentle, like a stream flowing through a valley, silently permeating his body.
This breathing technique can be considered complete.
It's not even the initial stage; it's directly stepped into the threshold of "breathing in rhythm and breathing in a self-rotating manner."
Zhao Heng closed his eyes, his heart calm. This smooth, natural progression confirmed his earlier suspicion that the chaotic memories he had acquired after his transmigration brought him more than just knowledge and experience.
And his teacher...
He rolled over and faced the wall.
In the darkness, when sight fades, hearing becomes all the more acute.
In the distance, the sound of a night watchman's gong could be heard twice, signaling midnight. Further away, the faint sound of hooves from the night patrols of Handan could be heard, clattering and clattering, approaching from afar and then receding again.
Just as the sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance, he heard another sound.
Extremely light footsteps.
More than one person.
The footsteps pattered softly on the bluestone slabs of the courtyard, yet they did not escape his ears. The newcomer deliberately softened his movements, but his breathing was heavy, rapid, and tense, unable to be suppressed.
There is another voice.
A muffled groan of struggle. Like a sob squeezed from deep in the throat, as if the mouth had been gagged.
Zhao Heng opened his eyes instantly, but before moving, he listened.
The footsteps stopped in the courtyard, as if hesitating. Then came a hushed conversation; the content was indistinct, but it was clear that there were four people speaking.
Zhao Heng sat up. He fumbled in the dark for a flint by the bed, then got off the bed, walked barefoot to the table, and touched the small bronze lamp from before.
He struck the flint twice, and sparks flew, igniting the wick. A dim, yellowish light spread in the darkness, illuminating a small area in front of the bed.
The area outside the door fell silent instantly.
Even the muffled groans of struggle stopped.
Immediately, the breathing in the courtyard became heavier, mixed with... the rustling of fabric, as if someone was writhing.
A rustling sound came from the side room, startling the maid on night duty. She peeked out sleepily, still wearing her outer robe, and saw the young master standing in the dim light wearing only a white undergarment. There was also some movement outside. Her face paled instantly, and she opened her mouth to call out.
Zhao Heng raised his hand and pressed lightly towards the side room, signaling her to be quiet.
The maid froze for a moment.
She saw the young master's calm face, half-lit and half-shadowed by the lamplight, showing no panic, not even surprise. She slowly understood, swallowed the gasp that was about to escape her lips, and withdrew her head, remaining silent.
Zhao Heng was too lazy to put on shoes. He walked barefoot to the wooden floor, placed his hand on the latch, paused for a moment, and then gently pulled it open.
The dim yellow light spilled out of the courtyard gate, illuminating the scene inside.
Meng Ben, Ji Cheng, Luan Ding, and Gongsun Yang, all dressed in dark brown shorts, were at night and knelt on the steps in front of the door.
And beside them—
Zhao Su was tightly bound with hemp rope, curled up on the ground like a pig or sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
His mouth was stuffed with a rag, so deep it almost reached his throat, that he could only let out muffled groans.
Therefore, Zhao Su could only writhe and struggle on the ground, but the more he did so, the deeper the hemp rope sank into his flesh, leaving red marks. When he saw Zhao Heng come out with a lantern, his eyes suddenly flashed with terror and pleading, and he struggled even more violently, like a fish out of water, thrashing about on the ground.
Zhao Heng stood at the door, holding a lantern, watching this scene with a blank expression.
When Meng Ben and the other three saw Zhao Heng personally carrying a lantern to open the door, they all bowed deeply, their foreheads touching the ground, without uttering a word.
Zhao Heng stood holding a lamp, his white robes fluttering slightly in the night breeze.
His expression was calm. His gaze swept across Zhao Su's face, landed on the four kneeling men, and then moved back to Zhao Su.
It was as if they had expected it all along.
"What do you all mean by this?"
Meng Ben looked up. Under the lamplight, his eyes were bloodshot, his cheek muscles were taut, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that he looked almost ferocious. He then gritted his teeth and said:
"Young master, we are guilty!"
Upon hearing Meng Ben's accusations, Zhao Heng remained silent.
He carried only that small bronze lamp, its flame flickering in the night breeze, its yellow light casting a dim, half-lit glow on his face. He stood there, his white robes trailing at his ankles, his bare feet on the stone steps, watching silently.
Ji Cheng, growing anxious, quickly added, "We have deceived you during the day, young master; we deserve to die!"
Zhao Heng then turned to Zhao Su, who was writhing on the ground, paused for a moment, and said in a calm voice, "So, you're tying up the household guard to atone for your crimes?"
Gongsun Yang spoke in a deep voice, his tone much more composed than Ji Cheng's: "That's not all."
Meng Ben continued through gritted teeth, "About half a year ago, we noticed that Zhao Su often met secretly with someone outside the mansion. However, that person always wore a bamboo hat, so we couldn't see his face, and he was very cautious in his movements."
We intended to report this to our mistress, but… that very night, Zhao Su summoned us for drinks. During the meal, under the influence of alcohol, he subtly probed, saying, 'Our lord has gone to Qin, and his return is uncertain. King Zhao is old, and no crown prince has been appointed. In Handan, countless people are eyeing that position. Since you are all from Zhao, you should know who will rule the state in the future. Some things are best left unsaid; leaving yourself a way out is the mark of a wise person.'”
Ji Cheng chimed in from the side, feeling ashamed and indignant:
"In the months that followed, Zhao Su acted very strangely. He secretly misappropriated the household's wealth, maintained close relationships with people outside the household, and often advised the young master to go out more and make friends with influential people. We were suspicious, but... at that time, the mistress was weak-willed, the young master was young, and many people in the household were from Han. Zhao Su was an old man in the household with deep roots, and we thought that even if we exposed him, we wouldn't be able to do anything to him, and might even bring trouble upon ourselves..."
Luan Ding rarely interrupted, saying in a low voice, "More importantly, at the time we felt that even if we reported it, the mistress and the tutor... might not be able to protect the young master. Therefore, we could only pretend not to know, and only try our best to protect the young master's safety to repay the old kindness of our lord. As for other things, we dared not investigate further, nor were we able to..."
The four of them, one after another, revealed the secrets they had kept hidden for so long.
Zhao Su shook his head frantically on the ground, making urgent "woo-woo" sounds, his eyes filled with terror and pleading. But the rope was tied tightly and the rag was stuffed deep inside, so he couldn't utter a single word and could only writhe like a maggot.
Seeing his reaction, Ji Cheng couldn't help but interrupt again:
"Until the day of the Qin hostage incident... does the young master remember? Before setting off that day, Zhao Su specifically instructed the kitchen to prepare wine and meat, saying that we guards had worked hard and should eat before leaving. The food had no strange smell, but after eating it, we felt a bit sluggish and our reactions were a beat slower. When we reached the East Niushou Bridge, a beggar suddenly bumped into us, diverting our attention. When we turned around, those boys had already surrounded us..."
He gritted his teeth and said, "If it weren't for that meal, if it weren't for the suspicious arrival of that beggar, even if we dared not lay a hand on the young man from Zhao, we would never have let the young master fall into the water so easily! Looking back, it wasn't an accident at all; someone had deliberately planned to take the young master's life!"
At this point, only the mournful sound of the wind remained in the courtyard.
And Zhao Su's voice grew weaker and weaker, eventually turning into a desperate sobbing "woo-woo".
After listening, Zhao Heng remained silent for a moment.
He didn't even glance at Zhao Su, who was slumped over to the side, but instead carried the lantern, walked down the steps, and stood in front of Meng Ben, who was still kneeling on the ground.
"You chose to remain silent during the day, so why did you change your mind at night?"