The Nap-Lan Empire had existed in Heaven’s Martial World for nearly 3,000 years. The empire’s territory stretched thousands of miles long, rumoured to have been founded by a mysterious and powerful martial artist named Nap-Lan with his 500,000 troops. Consequently, martial arts were ingrained within the culture of the empire. Its citizens upheld strength above all else, resulting in a martial culture that downplayed the importance of the arts. Scholars and artists had always been of inferior standing.
It was true that a strong nation required both a strong military and stable governance to truly prosper and the empire heeded this advice. They had always placed equal emphasis on scholars and warriors. However, in the eyes of the common folk, the only way to succeed was still through the practice of martial arts.
Why exactly was that?
A nation is formed of the basic familial unit, and where there are families, where there are clans, there will be conflicts—from the most acclaimed clans of the capital to the most rural of villages in the mountains. And the best way to resolve a conflict was through the use of force. Laws and legislation could only govern and restrain the average peasant. The nobles, the wealthy and the influential had military strength and martial power by their side, enough to dispute something as flimsy as a law written on paper. That was why martial power was required to enforce one’s will. Martial strength was synonymous with authority.
Did you crave power? Did you crave prosperity for your clan? Sure, all of it could be yours, as long as you had the force and strength to take it.
This martial culture that permeated this society sealed the fate of those who cannot practise martial arts. Their future was shrouded in darkness; they were nothing but cripples in the eyes of others. It was fine if you were born into a peasant family and were incapable of practising martial arts. After all, there were no conflicts of ambition or struggles of great wealth. Life could be simple but peaceful. However, if you were born to a noble family or a martial clan… your inability to practise martial arts was not only your personal misgiving, but a mark of disgrace that would earn you the scorn of the entire clan. You would have no dignity to speak of.
Meanwhile, in the south of the Nap-Lan Empire existed a certain Green Sea Town, so named for its proximity to the Green Sea Forest. There were several large clans in the town, with the Wun Clan holding the most influence amongst them. The reason for that was simple: the clan master Wun Ching Yeung was incredibly powerful, which allowed the Wun Clan to suppress the other clans and become the strongest clan of Green Sea Town. However, imperial decree still ruled above all else. Every city and every town within the empire, no matter how small or how large, was, in truth, governed by an official assigned from the capital. Green Sea Town was no exception. However, Wun Ching Yeung’s incredible individual strength made it such that even the governor had to respect him and make certain compromises.
Every time a conflict arose between the Wun Clan and another clan, the governor would have to personally mediate the disagreement; every time the Wun Clan prepared to make a political or financial move, the governor would also be involved in the shadows. The Wun Clan understood the idea of mutual benefit and made sure to avoid starting any trouble, while also remaining humble and respectful towards the governor’s office. They never did anything to undermine the governor’s authority. All these factors allowed the Wun Clan to prosper and grow with every passing year, culminating in their uncontested standing in the town.
Year 2999 of the Nap-Lan Imperial Calendar. The first day of the first month.
It was New Year’s for the Empire. Traditionally, every family would be exchanging blessings, having reunion meals and going out on the streets to participate in festivals and celebrations. Even in the far south of the empire, Green Sea Town was no exception. The citizens of the town would pray for another year of peace and happiness. The weather was harsh and cold, but it could not chill the festive mood of the townspeople.
A young boy sat cross-legged on a boulder in the mountain behind the Wun Clan’s mansion. He was dressed very lightly in the cold weather, but his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat. His breath seemed shallow and rapid. He didn’t seem to be in the best condition.
The boy looked young, perhaps only slightly older than ten, but he had an air of maturity to him that defied his age. A small golden medallion hung from his robes, engraved with the character for ‘ordinary’, read as ‘Fan’. Wun Fan. As the third young master of the Wun Clan and the eldest adopted son of Clan Master Wun Ching Yeung, he would be considered a rather important person in the town.
Wun Fan paced his breath and gathered his focus. He silently chanted the words of the Wun Clan’s cultivation technique: “Clouds have no shape; wind has no form. Clouds have no trail; wind has no shade. How does one know the passing of a wind with no cloud for it to move? How does a cloud form with no wind to shape it?”
Wun Fan dispelled all stray thoughts and maximised his mental senses. Aether was inhaled into his body with every breath. Then, his mental energy would flow through his body in the form of clouds; these clouds would stick onto the aether and guide them from his lungs into his veins. The aether was then guided toward the Kunlun Point in his body.
The Kunlun Point was one of ten vital pressure points of the human body, located in the dip between the bony knob on the outside of the ankle and the Achilles tendon. You would become a first-level Martial Disciple once you completely filled the Kunlun Point with aether. Even the tallest of skyscrapers begins with the foundation; it was the same with the martial arts. A good foundation is required to sustain a strong and powerful body.
“The Yangling Spring Point.”
Wun Fan filled his Kunlun Point without any effort at all and continued guiding the aether toward the Yangling Spring Point. This pressure point was located on the outside of the calf, in a dip slightly below the head of the fibula. Fill this point with aether and you would be a second-level Martial Disciple. A Martial Disciple of that level would be able to easily jump one metre into the air just by circulating aether through their feet. Moreover, they could run for several miles without feeling any soreness in their legs.
This was the difference between martial artists and ordinary humans. Even a beginner in martial arts would experience such drastic changes to their physical capabilities.
“The Three-Mile Point below the knee.”
“The Gate of Abundance Point on the back of the thigh.”
“The Loop-Jump Point on the butt.”
“The Backcreek Point of the palm.”
Wun Fan went with the momentum and filled every pressure point up to the Backcreek Point. It was obvious that he was a sixth-level Martial Disciple. He showed no signs of fatigue, his breath was steady and aether continued to pour steadily into his body. However, he hesitated right as he was about to break through to the next vital point.
He gritted his teeth and said in his own mind, “To hell with it.”
“The Point of Joining Valleys!”
The Point of Joining Valleys was located on the back of the hand, in the spot between the thumb and the index finger. Break through this point and he would be at the seventh level. However, just as Wun Fan guided aether toward the Joining Valleys Point, something unusual happened; just as always.
The pressure point on his left hand was filled with ease and was showing signs of a breakthrough. However, the pressure point on his right hand was like a bottomless pit. It absorbed every wisp of aether fed into and remained completely empty. Moreover, the Point of Joining Valleys on the right hand even started to absorb aether from all the other pressure points that had been filled earlier.
Wun Fan started breathing faster, as if to inhale more aether from his surroundings, but he could not keep up with the speed of the pressure point. In just a few moments, even the aether in his left hand’s pressure point had been absorbed by the right Point of Joining Valleys. Moreover, every last drop of aether that he had stored in his body was now gone.
“Huff. Huff.”
Wun Fan’s heavy breathing reflected the instability of his internals. His face was as pale as ash and his right hand trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t even make a gripping motion.
He thought of the saying going around in the town: “There’s a cripple in the Wun Clan; his name is Wun Fan.”
His lips were almost bleeding from how hard he was biting down. He slammed his fist into the boulder in helpless fury as he shouted out loud: “Why? Why does this happen the moment I make contact with the Point of Joining Valleys in my right hand?”
He had no strength left and the punch did nothing but hurt his own hand.
Wun Fan’s eyelids were growing heavy, but he pushed himself to stay awake. This was the same principle as not sitting down immediately after an intense workout; it was to avoid harming the body. Wun Fan pulled his emotions together and stabilised his breathing. He then filled in the first six vital points once more. This time, he did not try to fill the Point of Joining Valleys. He simply started resting after he had absorbed enough aether.
“Focused mind and rushing aether mark the disciple; an awakened soul is the mortal made.
Of centred heart the vassal commands the soul; in robes the scholar and master roam the realm;
Innate is but gates to martial’s path; colonel and general but steps to spirit’s height.
Yet nary is there an end in sight, till black and gold are washed and a king is born.”
Four simple lines that described the various levels of a martial artist in this world. Wun Fan didn’t know if there was an end to this martial journey, but he hadn’t even reached the starting line. The only thing he could do was to continue training, and more training.
Wun Fan believed that effort compensated for talent and that the slow needed to start early. He opened his eyes and moved his body slightly, listening to his joints crack. He turned around and saw a white figure standing by a tree, looking at him patiently. Wun Fan smiled bitterly and sighed.
“Why are you dressed so lightly? It’s cold.”
The person said nothing and continued staring at the boy sitting on the rock.
“Why don’t we take a walk? It’s New Year’s today.”
Wun Fan scratched his nose. It was weird being stared at so attentively like this.
A small golden medallion hung from the waist of that person’s dress. Siu Lan. Fourth young mistress of the Wun Clan and second adopted child of Clan Master Wun.
Wun Siu Lan’s raven-black hair had been combed back and tied into a ponytail. She wore a white mask on her face, hiding her forehead and her nose. Her eyes gleamed with spirit and life, giving her an air of nobility only complemented by the azure scarf around her neck.
She stretched upwards, her small frame looking like that of a lazy kitten waking from a nap.
“It’s fine. I just came here to see how you’re doing. Surprised?”
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