Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

The next evening after self-study, Cang Tianci, as usual, escorted Lin Wanqing home. However, this time the journey seemed somewhat somber.

Lin Wanqing keenly noticed his unusual mood and asked softly, "Tianci, are you too tired? You don't look well."

He shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the dim streetlights at the street corner, and suddenly asked, "Wanqing, tell me, how can a person both avoid becoming a burden to others and still complete the path they must walk?"

Lin Wanqing paused, thought for a moment, and replied seriously, "I don't know. But I feel that true protection is sometimes not about being physically close, but about finding a way to allow each other to breathe freely."

Cang Tianci paused, as if struck in the heart by those words. He gave Lin Wanqing a deep look, his eyes swirling with complex emotions.

"Thank you, Wanqing. I... understand," he said softly.

Back at the sports school, Cang Tianci didn't immediately return to his dormitory. Instead, like a scout, he wandered the night, searching for a suitable place to study. Under the streetlights? Too dim. The equipment room or storage room? Locked. He even tried sitting down on the cold, drafty corner of the stairs, but the draft and the possibility of night patrols made him uneasy. Hope rose and fell repeatedly, like a slowly tightening noose. His gaze finally settled at the end of the dormitory corridor on the first floor—the men's restroom. There, the lights shone all night.

He walked over and pushed open the slightly ajar door. A pungent, unpleasant stench assaulted his nostrils. Under the dim light, he saw an old latrine, mottled walls, and swarming insects. The place was filthy, cramped, and nauseating.

But here, no one disturbs us, and the lights are always on.

He stood frozen at the toilet doorway, the stench of ammonia and mildew hitting him like a dull punch, making his stomach churn. In the darkness, the creaking of the bed as Chen Gang turned over and Li Qiang's disgruntled grumbling echoed sharply in his ears once more. These sounds were even more suffocating than the smell of the toilet. He thought of Lin Wanqing's words—"Let each other breathe freely." Yes, if my "free breathing" had to come at the cost of disturbing others' peace, how selfish and pathetic would that freedom be? True "free breathing" perhaps begins with the peace of mind of not becoming a burden to others. Let's start from here.

Cang Tianci slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the dim light, as if penetrating the filth and depravity that this body was resisting. He remembered the cold wind of Xiqiao Village, the excruciating pain of the ointment on Eagle Cliff, his elder brother's words about "seeking the Dao," and his master's words about "the mortal world as a training ground." On the path of seeking the Dao, has there ever been a smooth and comfortable sunny road? Are those heavy burdens, those fallacies that need to be seen through, more noble than the filth before him?

He took a deep breath, then lifted his foot and stepped over the threshold that symbolized the last vestige of everyday dignity. This step shattered the fragile self-esteem of a young man, and set him on a more solitary, yet more thorough, path of cultivation. This was his "Abyss."

At 9:50 PM, while the other trainees finished washing up and prepared for bed, Cang Tianci carried a bucket and entered the roughly eight-square-meter men's restroom. Outside was a tap; he filled the bucket with water and carefully rinsed each toilet bowl, as if performing a solemn ritual. The faint steam temporarily dispelled some of the unpleasant odor. Then, he moved his own small stool and a wooden board that served as a desk from the corner outside, and spread out his books under the dim light.

The light bulb above his head buzzed, and several small flying insects, drawn to the light, tirelessly circled around it. The sweltering air was still, and sweat gradually seeped from his forehead. The buzzing of mosquitoes and flies was like an annoying background noise, launching occasional sneak attacks.

The sweltering heat of the southern autumn night lingered, and the poor ventilation in the toilet quickly brought back an indescribable stench, seeping into his nostrils and testing the limits of his endurance. Huge, spotted mosquitoes swarmed in from nowhere, biting his arms and neck, leaving patches of red, itchy welts. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping onto his notebook and spreading into tiny ink blots.

He missed the creaking ceiling fan, the tight mosquito net, and even the familiar smell of sweat and the mingled snores of his fellow students—at least that was a vibrant and welcoming atmosphere. However, he couldn't go back.

"What's a little hardship?" He recalled his master Chen Jiren's calm gaze, "The mortal world is a place of practice everywhere; all hardships and difficulties are resources."

With this thought in mind, Cang Tianci closed his eyes, focused his mind, and slowly circulated the Hidden Dragon Technique. He concentrated on his dantian, his breath sinking, and his senses gradually contracted inward. The external disturbances—the buzzing of mosquitoes, the pungent odors, the sweltering heat—began to become distant and blurred, as if separated by a layer of transparent glass. His mind was completely clear, his eyes focused only on the leaping formulas, the flowing words, and the problems that needed to be solved. The pen moved swiftly across the paper, his mind completely immersed in the vast ocean of knowledge, forgetting himself and the world around him.

In this most unbearable environment, he entered a state of extreme focus. The Hidden Dragon Technique was not only a method to strengthen the body and unleash potential, but also an anchor to calm the mind and resist external interference. Here, he truly experienced the subtlety of "the environment changes with the mind"—the environment had not changed, but his inner perception and coping methods were different.

Time slipped away quietly under this intense focus.

After an unknown amount of time, a tall, composed figure silently paced around the dormitory building, checking on the night. The newly appointed principal, Zhou Zhenhua, had keenly noticed the occasional signs of fatigue that his top student, Chen Gang, and others had shown during recent training. A vague suspicion in his mind prompted him to stay up late tonight, wanting to see for himself.

The entire building was silent. Zhou Zhenhua nodded slightly, preparing to leave, but his gaze inadvertently drifted to the men's restroom at the end of the first-floor corridor. A sliver of light shone from there, and within the light, a shadowy figure seemed to be moving.

So late? Who's inside? Zhou Zhenhua tiptoed closer, approaching silently. He stopped outside the door and peered inside through the ventilation gap in the door panel.

The sight that he saw made this man, who was used to seeing all kinds of storms, suddenly shudder, and his pupils contracted sharply!

In the cramped, smelly corner of the toilet, a thin figure, though ramrod straight, was intently calculating on a low wooden table. The dim light outlined his focused profile, and beads of sweat on his forehead glistened in the lamplight. Beside him lay a thick stack of completed draft paper and his middle school textbook. Zhou Zhenhua's gaze instantly swept over more details: the old jacket with a worn collar that the boy used to elevate the wooden board and keep it stable was worn; the old palm-leaf fan with its frayed edges was used to occasionally swat away mosquitoes; on the wall, there were faint marks repetitively drawn with fingernails or pen nibs, the characters "持" (hold) and "静" (quiet).

In an instant, all the doubts were clear! Why did Chen Gang and the others look a little tired? It must be because Tianci studied late into the night every night, and no matter how careful he was, it was inevitable that he would disturb his teammates who were light sleepers. Why did this kid insist on studying in such a place? It wasn't that he didn't want to be in the dormitory; he was afraid of disturbing others! He left comfort and quiet for his fellow students, but he himself chose this "filthy place."

A complex mix of emotions, like molten lava, surged into Zhou Zhenhua's heart. Shock and heartache almost made him want to burst through the door, drag the boy out, and give him a good scolding for not taking care of his health. But what followed was an even stronger surge of emotion and admiration—this kid was ruthless to himself but kind to others; this character, this sense of responsibility, was more precious than any of the so-called "geniuses" he had ever seen. This wasn't just a student; this was clearly a rough gem, its brilliance already shining within.

He almost pushed the door open immediately and pulled the sensible child out. But his hand, resting on the door, stopped abruptly.

He saw Cang Tianci suddenly stop writing, his brows furrowed, as if he were troubled by a difficult problem. Instead of becoming anxious, he slowly put down his pen, placed his hands lightly on his dantian (lower abdomen), closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. After a moment, he opened his eyes, the confusion gone, replaced by clarity and determination, and resumed his calculations.

Zhou Zhenhua slowly withdrew his hand. He understood. This child was not merely studying; he was practicing his "Tao" in an almost ascetic manner. This small toilet was his training ground, and the hardship before him was the whetstone for tempering his character.

My intrusion at this moment may be an expression of concern, but what I'm interrupting could be a crucial mental experience.

Zhou Zhenhua stood silently outside the door for a long time, quietly watching through the crack at the boy inside, who was silently struggling against the harsh environment, the challenges of knowledge, and his own limits. His gaze shifted from initial shock and sorrow to a surge of anger, gradually transforming into a profound respect—a respect that even contained a hint of awe for a pure spiritual force that he himself was unaware of. Ultimately, all his emotions settled into an iron will—this gem must not be destroyed by such pointless wear and tear.

In the end, he made no sound, simply turning and leaving silently. As he turned away, shutting out the scene in the restroom, his broad shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, or perhaps something even heavier had been taken up. He strode into the darkness of the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness, much heavier and more resolute than when he had come.

But his heart was far from as calm as his steps.

"You little rascal, you're something else. In a place like this, with this kind of drive, even I wasn't this ruthless back in the day."

He clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles cracking, his gaze unconsciously sweeping across the row of bungalows opposite the playground—a window there flashed before his eyes. A thought quickly formed in his mind, but he immediately suppressed it. He couldn't just give it to him directly; that kid was stubborn and would never accept charity. He needed a reason, a 'task' or 'opportunity' that the kid couldn't refuse, or even felt was his due…

The night grew deeper. In the restroom, Cang Tianci finally closed the last of his homework books. He exhaled a long breath, and the Hidden Dragon Technique circulating within him slowly calmed down. Only then did he seem to emerge from that state of "clarity" and regain his senses about his surroundings—the mosquito bites on his arms began to itch, the unpleasant odor once again filled his nostrils, and his clothes on the back were already soaked with sweat.

He silently tidied everything up, picked up the bucket again, and carefully rinsed the toilet, as if performing a farewell ceremony for this battlefield that had accompanied him through his arduous training.

Then, carrying the table and chair, and his backpack, he tiptoed back to the dormitory. His fellow students' snores were still loud and drawn out. He lay down on his bed, and almost the instant his head touched the pillow, he drifted off to sleep. At least tonight, he didn't disturb anyone.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of eyes outside the door had witnessed all his hardships and perseverance that night. And the owner of those eyes had already pressed a crucial accelerator for his magnificent future.