Chapter Ten: The Broth of a Hundred Bones-Bandit Road(Dream of Insects)

Zheng Bao'er sensed that the atmosphere in the martial arts school had changed. In the past, when she and Brother Kou came and went, even if someone saw them, they pretended not to notice, and never greeted them proactively.

But now, as soon as she appeared, she was met with faces bearing various smiles.

"Brother Bao, you're so diligent today, coming to train so early?"

"Good morning, Brother Bao."

"I heard that yesterday, the senior brother personally gave you pointers on the stance method. He hasn't done that for years."

"Brother, today is the monthly distribution, are you here to collect the Hundred Bone Soup as well?"

Bao'er responded politely to the apprentices, while turning to the old master distributing the soup, "I need two bowls, one for Brother Kou as well."

The old master hesitated, as the soup was precious and, by custom, had to be collected in person by members of the school. But facing the most promising young apprentice, he quickly smiled and said, "That's wonderful, I'll trouble you then, little brother."

The Hundred Bone Soup was regarded by the apprentices as the most precious item in the school. Brewed from the bones of mountain beasts, it was a superb tonic for replenishing qi and blood, nourishing and invigorating the body. It was distributed every half month, amber in color, thick and rich like an aged broth.

Zheng Bao'er spotted someone and her eyes lit up, "Brother Jiang, let's go to Shuifish Village tonight to catch some fish. This time, we must get that big blue-black-shelled shrimp."

Jiang Shuiyuan's mouth twitched, producing a smile more painful than crying. "Brother, we're at the age to lay a good foundation. We should focus on training, not running around."

"That's not right," Bao'er puffed her cheeks, looking very serious, "Brother Kou said balance is key: only by playing well can you train well. Have you noticed my training has improved lately?"

How could anyone compete with such a prodigy? Jiang Shuiyuan was at his wits' end. He had hoped the ninth brother would become obsessed with play and lose his discipline, but the opposite happened—Bao'er played more than anyone, yet stood firmer than all.

Meanwhile, Jiang himself had suffered backaches, his stance weakening in recent days.

He envied, resented, and admired Bao'er—much like a struggling student watching a peer who played and partied end up at a top university, while he was left with a mediocre school.

"Huh, where's Brother Kou? Did he go practice again?" Returning to the room and seeing the bed untouched, Zheng Bao'er felt deep admiration. Brother Kou now spent every moment either eating, sleeping, or studying stances and forms. Such ascetic devotion convinced Bao'er that his brother would one day become a martial arts master.

By the seaside, among the coconut trees—

A shadow darted through the grove, occasionally pausing, crouched like a tiger, arms bent into hooks at shoulder height, elbows flexed, forearms and upper arms forming a triangle, fingers splayed as if grasping prey, with tiger-like claws. The back muscles loosened, as if draped in a layer of energy.

The fingers alternated tension and release, gripping and letting go, while the shoulder blades relaxed, fanning like palm leaves, arms swinging back and forth in rhythm with the fingers’ movements. The legs and bones followed the intent, relaxing and tensing in turn. Most crucially, as the hands reached forward, the mind drove the spine backward, as if stretching each vertebra.

The sounds of joints, fascia, and spine melding together finally produced a roar akin to that of a tiger.

"Roar!"

A tiger’s attack: first pounce, then cut, then flip. The stench of blood fills the air as it opens its jaws to devour.

The spine alternates tension and relaxation, causing the whole body to sway gently back and forth. The breath coordinates with the spine’s movement, the shadow of man and tiger blending and vibrating together, finally merging into one—eyes fierce, brows raised, the tiger descends the mountain!

With a swift motion, three deep claw marks appeared on the trunks of two coconut trees.

This display was no less, perhaps even greater, than the tiger pounce performed by Instructor Zhao.

"The crouched posture, the courage to hunt, the power of sitting, the ferocity of leaping—these are all integrated now, except for a minor flaw in the opening move, but that's unrelated to understanding the fist method..." Kou Li pondered as he practiced; the nearby grass and tree bases had been thoroughly ruined by his training.

If Instructor Zhao or any apprentice saw this scene, they would be astonished—to grasp the essence of the tiger pounce after witnessing it just once, and even innovate upon it.

If Zhao's demonstration was a killing technique with the shape of a tiger but lacking its spirit, then Kou Li's practice truly embodied a living tiger.

More importantly, he had not practiced the dynamic stance methods of the Tiger Fist, which usually violates the fundamentals of martial arts.

Three methods exist: fixed stance, dynamic stance, and breathing technique. Fixed stance is for shaping the body and regulating mind and body, much like the Child’s Stance.

Only by integrating dynamic stances into the fist method can one unleash the unique power of the art and forge distinctive force.

This is the true core of every fist method; techniques are easy to learn, stances are difficult to master. Techniques are executed in conjunction with stances.

Thus, the martial arts geniuses in wuxia novels who master skills after seeing them once do not exist here.

Though Kou Li did not fully understand this, he realized that his rapid progress was closely tied to the ability developed from merging the wordless diagram into himself.

The first ability, Kou Li had some grasp of—it was "microscopic insight," reflecting subtle internal changes in the body. The mysterious "canal-like organs" and "streams" were manifestations of the central nervous system, perceived as illusions of change.

He relied on this to correct Zheng Bao’er’s stance flaws.

The second ability was what he experienced now: day thoughts, night dreams. The day Instructor Zhao performed the tiger pounce, the scene from the Southern Gate Mountain flashed before him—a giant tiger with white forehead and fierce eyes, red pupils and sharp teeth, the stench of blood, even bits of flesh caught between its teeth, as if the dream became reality.

Upon awakening, he found himself with a new understanding of the Tiger Fist’s main move, "Tiger Pounce," as taught by Instructor Zhao.

Thus, devoured by the tiger at night, becoming the tiger by day, his progress with this move exceeded even his own expectations.

"In gaming terms, this move’s proficiency is maxed, but its power hasn’t reached its peak. I must return to stance training, as only the Child’s Stance can reshape the body."

The more Kou Li comprehended the essence of the tiger pounce, the more discomfort he felt, as if a ferocious tiger within him was trapped inside human skin, baring its fangs and thirsting for blood, eager to break free.

The sensation was intensely unpleasant.

Kou Li understood this was because his body, untrained from childhood, had muscle and bone configurations that failed to coordinate perfectly, preventing him from unleashing his full strength.

For example, the key to the pounce was loosening the spine and scapula, the back draped in energy, with each joint from fingers to legs subtly moving with each breath. Yet, when Kou Li performed it, his scapula felt wrapped in rawhide, stifling energy and breath, and his joints creaked painfully, as if about to snap.

This was due to excessive residue between muscle and bone, hindering his martial arts practice.

Just as he stepped out of the grove, his brow furrowed. The lingering energy from the tiger pounce hadn’t fully dissipated, giving him a beast-like intuition—a shiver ran down his spine, as if someone were watching him.

But scanning the surroundings, he saw no trace of anyone.

During his time at the school, Kou Li felt a long-missed sense of fullness and stability, yet he had a premonition that such days would not last.

How could this turbulent land of Yuezhou allow a martial arts school to remain a paradise?

This made him all the more curious about the master of the school—his nominal martial arts teacher, the Hundred-Handed Master Lin Xianshi.

He returned silently home, and upon entering, saw the bowl of amber soup still steaming on the table. This must be the famed Hundred Bone Soup the apprentices were buzzing about.

Such medicinal soup was essential in every martial arts school; the strength and skills of a martial artist were not bestowed by heaven. Nutrition and medicine were indispensable. In Guanchao, filling the belly was already lucky, so the tonic was even more crucial.

The taste of the soup was peculiar—not fragrant, but rather pungent, thick and glue-like, hard to swallow. Yet Kou Li drank it all without a change in expression.

As the soup entered his stomach, it flowed downwards, and every organ and bone felt as if placed in a steamer, with waves of heat rising.

Without delay, Kou Li took up a stance, and the torrent of heat found its outlet, tens of thousands of streams of warmth burrowing into his flesh.

The imagined stream within him seemed to boil, bubbling with heat, and the gravel and sand within it began to melt under the high temperature.

This session was particularly smooth; with the help of the medicinal strength, Kou Li held the stance for three incense sticks’ time, for the first time transitioning from the Foundation Stance to the Source-Nurturing Stance.

He raised both hands, palms down, to brow height, shoulders tucked, elbows wrapped, eyes half-closed, body completely relaxed, as loose as mud, with not a trace of tension. It felt as if he melted into the world, mind focused on the dantian...

The imagery in his mind shifted—the stream released waves of energy, and the boiling vapors coalesced into swirling vortices in midair, spinning chaotically without pause.

But Kou Li’s mind was already empty, consciousness suspended, his whole body as if immersed in warm water, comfortable and unwilling to move.

The only sensations were a warm dantian, swollen hands and feet, and blood coursing through his body. Yet, during this, the sensation in his right hand began to fade.

By the end, it was as if his right hand no longer existed.