A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

Chen Che stared at the torn page of the newspaper, his fingers tightening slightly.

Chen Xuan. He hadn't heard this name mentioned in many years. His grandfather never talked about this younger brother when he was alive. Occasionally, when outsiders asked, he would simply say, "Let's go our separate ways," and then refuse to say anything more. When he was a child, he vaguely heard Chen San gossip about it, saying that his great-grandfather had a big falling out with this second brother back then, but Chen San couldn't say for sure what the reason was.

He returned the newspaper to Master Jueyuan, saying, "I don't know this person."

Master Jueyuan glanced at him, but didn't press the matter. He simply put the newspaper back into his sleeve and said, "Then I won't say anything more. Go and rest."

Chen Che carried his suitcase into the meditation room on the east side. The room was small, with a bed, a table, and a stool. On the wall hung a piece of calligraphy, its ink faded to almost nothing, its age unknown. He put down his suitcase, sat on the bed for a while, and pondered over and over the words Master Jueyuan had just spoken.

Earth tremors, Luoyang collapse, black mist...

He shook his head, suppressing those thoughts for the time being. Thinking too much was useless; the most important thing right now was to learn the Yi Jin Jing.

The next day, before dawn, Chen Che was awakened by a knock on the door.

"Esteemed benefactor, the abbot is waiting for you in the courtyard." It was the voice of the young monk from yesterday outside the door.

Chen Che quickly washed his face and went out. The morning in November on Mount Song was bitterly cold. The old locust tree in the courtyard was bare, with a layer of white frost on its branches. Master Jueyuan was already standing under the tree, wearing a thin monk's robe, his injured arm in a sling in front of his chest, and his other hand behind his back.

"You're here." He looked Chen Che up and down. "Come with me."

They passed through the moon gate, circled the scripture library, and walked along a gravel path towards the back of the mountain. The path narrowed as they walked, and the trees on both sides grew denser, until they finally stopped in front of a stone wall.

There was a crack in the stone wall, just wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways. Master Jueyuan went in first, and Chen Che followed behind, his shoulders brushing against the cold stone wall. After walking for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the view suddenly opened up before him.

It was a small valley hidden in the heart of the mountain, surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides, with only a sliver of sky visible overhead. The valley was small, only a few dozen feet in circumference, with fine sand and gravel covering the ground. In the center was a flat bluestone platform, its surface polished smooth as a mirror.

"This is where Shaolin has passed down its martial arts skills through generations." Master Jueyuan walked to the stone platform, sat down cross-legged, and said, "It's not open to the public; even most of the monks in the temple don't know about it."

He patted the spot opposite the stone platform: "Sit down."

Chen Che sat down as instructed. The coolness of the bluestone platform seeped through his trousers, making him shiver.

Master Jueyuan extended his uninjured hand and placed three fingers on Chen Che's wrist.

Chen Che felt a warm current seep into his wrist, travel up his arm, past his shoulder, and down his spine. The current moved extremely slowly, as if probing his body inch by inch. He dared not move, and even his breathing became soft.

After a long time, Master Jueyuan released his grip.

"Your physical attributes are acceptable," he said, his tone unreadable, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. "But how old are you this year?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three." Master Jueyuan repeated, shaking his head slightly. "The foundation for martial arts training is best built from the age of five or six. At your age, your meridians are already set, and your bones and muscles are strong. To practice the Yi Jin Jing, you will need to put in several times more effort than someone who has been practicing since childhood."

Chen Che's heart sank: "Then... is it too late?"

Master Jueyuan did not answer directly, but instead took out a thin handwritten book from his pocket and placed it on the bluestone platform.

"The Yi Jin Jing," he said, "is not an ordinary martial art. It doesn't train moves or routines; it trains—change."

"Change?"

"It changes the pathways of your meridians, bones, and the flow of qi and blood." Master Jueyuan's voice was calm and slow. "The human body is what it is at birth. But the Yi Jin Jing can break down what you were born with and rebuild it all over again. That's why it's called 'Yi Jin'—Yi means change."

He opened the first page of the manuscript, which contained a diagram of the meridians of the human body, with dense red lines that looked like intertwined threads.

"Ordinary people practice martial arts from the outside in, first training their muscles, bones, and skin, and then training their breath. The Yi Jin Jing does the opposite—it starts from the inside, changing the fundamental way your Qi and blood circulate, and then from the inside out, it reshapes your muscles and bones."

He looked at Chen Che and said, "This process is very difficult."

"I'm not afraid of hardship."

"It's not the kind of suffering you can imagine." Master Jueyuan's voice suddenly turned stern. "You'll get a fever, your whole body will ache, and you'll feel like someone is grinding your bones with a file. Some people give up halfway through, not because they lack perseverance, but because that kind of pain will make your body instinctively resist. Your hands and feet will become unresponsive, your heart will tell you 'stop,' and you'll feel like you'll die if you keep practicing."

He paused. "But actually, you won't die. It's just... like dying once."

Chen Che was silent for a moment, then raised his head: "Master Jueyuan, did my grandfather... also train like this back then?"

Master Jueyuan's eyes flickered.

"Your grandfather," he said, "practiced for three months."

"You mastered it in just three months?"

"No," Master Jueyuan shook his head. "The Yi Jin Jing is not a skill that can be 'mastered' through mere practice. It's a lifelong endeavor. In three months, he only laid a solid foundation and mastered the methods of circulating internal energy. What follows is honed through practice."

He took out a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve, poured out a brown pill, and handed it to Chen Che.

"This is the Shaolin Temple's 'Marrow Cleansing Pill,' used in conjunction with the Yi Jin Jing (Muscle/Tendon Changing Classic). Take it first."

Chen Che took the pill and put it in his mouth. The pill melted as soon as it entered his mouth, and a spicy taste rushed straight to his throat, making him cough twice.

"Now, close your eyes." Master Jueyuan's voice became deep, like an echo in a distant valley. "Don't think about anything. Listen to my voice."

Chen Che closed his eyes.

"Breathe. Inhale slowly, imagining the air entering from the top of your head, traveling down your spine, all the way to your lower abdomen (Dantian). Hold. Then exhale slowly, imagining the air rising from your lower abdomen and exiting through your mouth."

Chen Che did as instructed. At first, he didn't feel anything, only that his breathing rhythm was a little awkward. But after doing it more than ten times, he suddenly felt a slight warmth in his lower abdomen, as if a tiny flame was flickering there.

"You felt it?"

"It's...it's a little hot."

"That's the dantian." Master Jueyuan's voice carried a hint of approval. "You're faster than I expected. Some people take three to five days to reach this feeling."

Chen Che opened his eyes, somewhat incredulous: "So fast?"