Chapter 42: Cried

Moments earlier, on the training ground, Zheng Fa had his eyes closed, unaware of how long he had stood there.

While holding the Songhe Stance, the faint, elusive qi within his body would occasionally flow, most noticeably from his inner thighs to his toes and along the inner edges of his shoulder blades; each time the qi passed, these areas felt an itch that crawled from bone to skin.

Zheng Fa appeared utterly oblivious, motionless, his mind replaying the postures of birds from the documentary, especially those resembling movements in the Spirit Crane Heart Scripture.

Miraculously, whenever he visualized a similar motion, the qi within him trembled slightly, granting him a strange, refreshing coolness.

“Visualization technique?” A thought surfaced—and the qi within him ceased its trembling.

He sank his spirit into stillness once more, ceasing all further thought.

The itch in his shoulder blades and pelvis grew unbearable, nearly driving him mad, threatening to break his Songhe Stance.

The itch reached its peak—then vanished abruptly. Where his shoulder blades had been most itchy, it felt as though a new organ had grown there.

Zheng Fa suddenly realized: he had grown wings, grown crane legs, his entire body covered in feathers!

Or rather, the images of flying birds he had visualized in his mind had gradually fused with himself—he had become the strange bird-man of the Spirit Crane Heart Scripture!

And his consciousness had entered the body of this bird-man.

Though his eyes remained tightly shut, the darkness before him was shattered by an extraordinary scene:

He was flying! He flapped his wings, slicing through the azure sky, soaring toward the heavens, as if reaching the very pinnacle of the cosmos.

Endless white clouds churned beneath him; his feathers caught the glow of the setting sun, their edges gilded with golden light.

The qi within him, now trembling and growing stronger, grew increasingly restless, surging left and right until it burst through his throat, erupting into a clear, piercing cry.

The sea of clouds parted, the great sun sank—Zheng Fa slowly opened his eyes. Before him lay the familiar training ground; all that had just occurred felt like a dream.

The sky had darkened. Instructor Xu, still fully clothed, leaned against a nearby stone bench, asleep with his eyes closed. He seemed awakened by Zheng Fa’s crane cry, rubbing his eyes and gazing toward Zheng Fa, his expression dazed.

“What was that sound? Hey, you finished?” His gaze drifted slowly to Zheng Fa’s feet, and he blinked in surprise: “You’ve perfected the Songhe Stance?”

Zheng Fa looked down—and saw the green bricks beneath his feet shattered into fine cracks, the unmistakable sign of perfected Songhe Stance.

The Songhe Stance manual stated: “The body like clouds of the nine heavens, the feet rooted in nine layers.”

At its peak, this stance allowed one to crush such green stone tiles with nothing more than the lightest press of the big toe.

Without realizing it, while comprehending the Spirit Crane Heart Scripture, Zheng Fa had inadvertently perfected the Songhe Stance—proving the Spirit Crane Heart Scripture was indeed the core of the Spirit Crane Body art.

“How long did I sleep?” Instructor Xu scanned the surrounding sky, as if checking whether he had slept a thousand years like in a tale. Seeing the familiar scene, he turned sharply to Zheng Fa, frowning deeply, muttering: “No, even with your talent, you couldn’t perfect it this fast!”

He recalled the crane cry he had heard moments ago. His gaze trembled slightly as he looked at Zheng Fa, lips parting as if to ask—yet he dared not speak.

A thought had formed in his mind, yet his expression told Zheng Fa: even he himself could not believe it.

Zheng Fa was about to explain—when Instructor Xu leapt up like a charging horse, his fist blazing like a falling star, striking straight for Zheng Fa’s face.

Zheng Fa had no time to speak—he reacted instinctively, raising his arms to block.

Though they shared the bond of master and disciple, they had sparred many times before. Though Zheng Fa showed extraordinary talent, he could not match Instructor Xu’s lifetime of martial skill; thus, their sparring was always restrained, Instructor Xu revealing less than a tenth of his true power, merely feeding Zheng Fa techniques.

But today, Instructor Xu was different. His fist surged like a mountain shifting, a sea surging—he was fighting with full strength.

Zheng Fa moved—and instantly realized he was no longer the same. Though the qi within him remained thin and faint, it now flowed endlessly, brimming with vitality, coursing through his body with every motion, granting him a reaction speed he had never possessed before.

He felt as if he had just stepped from the sea onto dry land—free, unshackled, utterly exhilarated.

Most importantly, he sensed a strange force now present in the surrounding space, flowing with his movements, amplifying the power of every gesture, every strike.

This had never happened before.

In this state, Zheng Fa did not fall behind—he matched Instructor Xu blow for blow, evenly matched in speed and power.

Instructor Xu’s tiger-like eyes gleamed; his movements shifted abruptly, forcing Zheng Fa to respond instinctively.

After three or four exchanges, Zheng Fa suddenly realized: his current technique was the Spirit Crane Piercing Cloud Hands from the fourth volume of the Spirit Crane Body!

Of course! Instructor Xu was still feeding him techniques—but deliberately guiding Zheng Fa to use the Spirit Crane Piercing Cloud Hands. Though he had never mastered the Spirit Crane Body, he had studied it for twenty years; every move, every detail was etched into his memory.

“You’ve mastered it!” Instructor Xu watched Zheng Fa’s movements—though clumsy, each strike carried immense force, leaving Instructor Xu momentarily flustered, unable to meet them head-on. Only the Spirit Crane Heart Scripture’s enhancement could explain this.

He did not despair—instead, he burst into loud laughter, repeating: “You’ve mastered it! Mastered it!”

His laughter echoed through the night air, then gradually softened, tinged with a faint sob.

His lips curled upward, mouth wide open, revealing two rows of large teeth—he laughed as if he had lost all restraint.

Yet at the same time, two streams of hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

…

Outside the training ground, Gao Yuan and Instructor Xu’s nephew walked toward the grounds, shoulders linked, carrying meal boxes.

Instructor Xu’s nephew was still apologizing to Gao Yuan: “I never realized you were this hard on yourself. I misunderstood you, brother.”

“Brother, you don’t know how it feels to be near a genius—I’ve felt it deeply,” Gao Yuan sighed, visibly frustrated. “I thought I was used to it. But meeting someone as understanding as you, these grievances just won’t stay inside.”

“No problem!” Instructor Xu’s nephew slapped Gao Yuan’s shoulder. “Zheng Fa may be talented, but I have a way to ease your heart.”

“Teach me, brother!”

“Who am I?” Instructor Xu’s nephew patted his chest. “I’m my uncle’s favorite disciple, his direct heir—and his nephew, the only male heir of the Xu family’s next generation!”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to tell my uncle: since Zheng Fa is so talented, we should raise the standards for him, demand more from him. But for us? We should be encouraged more. Most importantly—stop comparing us to him!”

“Isn’t that… too lazy?” Gao Yuan frowned. “Shouldn’t we strive to emulate the worthy?”

“No, this is called being grounded!” Instructor Xu’s nephew grinned. “What benefit is there in comparing yourself to Zheng Fa? Isn’t that insulting his talent? Are we even worthy?”

“...” Gao Yuan opened his mouth but said nothing.

“Compare ourselves to him? What do we gain besides sleepless nights?”

Gao Yuan nodded, clearly moved—this made sense to him.

“So it’s not us who are the problem—it’s your master, my uncle! They’re holding us to Zheng Fa’s standard!” Seeing Gao Yuan’s agreement, Instructor Xu’s nephew patted his shoulder. “From now on, we must convince them: stop comparing the three of us!”

“Looks like you don’t need to convince them,” Gao Yuan suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“If Instructor Xu isn’t insane, he won’t compare us to Zheng Fa anymore.”

Instructor Xu’s nephew stared blankly at Gao Yuan, clearly confused by this remark.

“He… cried because Zheng Fa beat him.” Gao Yuan pointed at the two sparring in the training ground, then added: “Yeah. Cried real bad.”