Chapter 118: The Fist Scripture, Great Snow

Curtains were drawn tight, the room dim.

The quilt on the bed lay flat, then sank slightly.

The air around stirred gently—Chu Tianshu had already sat on the bed.

“Ah, you’re back!”

Chu Tianshu stretched luxuriously, then noticed the room was cold.

He turned his gaze and saw the water left earlier in the glass on the nightstand had frozen solid.

“Damn, what month is this? How long was I gone?”

Chu Tianshu walked to the window and yanked open the curtains.

The cement yard before the door, the vegetable patch, the bridge, the river surface.

Farther out, vast fields lay entirely white with snow.

The ground was covered in thick snow, and fine flakes still drifted from the sky.

Occasionally, snowflakes clung to the windowpane.

Chu Tianshu turned back, found his phone, plugged in the charger, powered it on, connected to the network, and checked the date.

In this world, thirty-nine days had passed since he left home.

It seemed the time flow between the Tang world and this one was roughly two to one.

Yet, if measured precisely to the hour, the time flow between the Tang world and the Republic world still showed slight differences.

“It’s only October by the Gregorian calendar, and already this much snow?”

Strictly speaking, the lunar calendar is a lunisolar system.

But in Chu Tianshu’s hometown, everyone casually called the Gregorian calendar “solar calendar,” the official one on paper.

They called the lunar calendar “lunar calendar.”

According to the Gregorian calendar, the Jianghuai region usually didn’t see light snow until late November.

Sometimes, noticeable snowfall didn’t come until January of the next year.

Chu Tianshu went to the second-floor living room, opened the window, and felt the chilly wind and snow blow in.

He wore thin clothes, but his physique was strong—he was immune to cold and heat.

This biting wind and flying snow only brought him a refreshing novelty.

“As a child, I rarely got the chance to walk on thick ice with friends. Now, with this weight, I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Chu Tianshu looked at the snow-covered river and knew the ice must have formed first, allowing snow to settle atop it and stay pristine.

He spread his hands, bracing on the windowsill, and before the snowy scene, summoned the token screen.

【Evil spirit materials have been refined…

Martial art materials have been selected…

Simulating…

Simulation complete:

The “Heartfire Fist Scripture of the Shaolin Invasion.”

A human has fourteen hearts; when all are cultivated into furnaces, it is called great attainment—each strike carries the force of fourteen furnaces, shattering iron and crushing stone…

Heartfire naturally adjusts weight and height with strict rhythm; the soles boil, the crown burns hot, the three unions merge into one with perfect fire control.

The Luo Han achieves stable roots here; the mortal body first enters the Vajra state.

Weight and lightness flow effortlessly, embodying the true essence; wondrously, one point achieves Samadhi power!

The Shaolin Invasion fist manual covered broad ground, yet was unified by a single thread.

It also included many conjectures gathered by Yu Dayou from that world, giving it immense potential.

This time, Chu Tianshu again chose to simulate this manual—and indeed reaped great gains.

The fist manual flooding his mind clearly expanded upon the original’s conjectures with detailed analysis.

As a result, the manual’s content had surged by seventy to eighty percent.

Chu Tianshu closed his eyes, recalling the entire manual, and gradually felt a deep sense of fulfillment.

It wasn’t the fulfillment from increased power, but from expanded vision, insight, direction, and penetrating analysis.

His previous strength gains came from relentless practice—focused, yet vague and unclear.

This manual gave him a deeper understanding of why opening the qi points enhanced the body.

Once one comprehended the principles, practice could be tailored precisely, avoiding useless efforts.

Only then did martial training truly begin to be understood.

The greatest difference between gongfu and gongjiang lay precisely here.

In the past, Chu Tianshu trained, even with great effort, remained at the craftsman level—exchanging labor for results.

Now that he understood the principles, he could reflect and verify while training, draw analogies, and even attain enlightenment when seemingly not training.

Like the legend of Mendeleev, who, in daily thought and nightly dreams, uncovered the framework of the periodic table.

To reach this depth in the martial path made it possible to build unshakable achievements in the mortal world solely through this pursuit, without relying on any other profession.

Even if the possibility was only a glimmer, it had already set him on a different path from before.

The highest is to establish virtue; next, to establish merit.

“Ha!!”

Chu Tianshu opened his eyes, closed the window, and felt fulfilled—now he had no rush to do anything.

He returned to his room, changed into a shirt and long pants, the Three Seven Divine Sword still bound at his waist like an unusual belt, then threw on a beige trench coat.

Snow like this was rare in the south.

It was the perfect time to go out for a stroll.

Chu Tianshu went downstairs, opened a black umbrella, stepped into the five-to-six-centimeter snow, and walked slowly.

The fist technique flowed gently in his heart; the scenery drifted peacefully beside him.

Chu Tianshu’s body and mind were at ease, strolling without aim.

Unconsciously, he reached the bridge outside his second uncle’s house.

The river here had been broken open by a half-meter-wide hole.

His second uncle, wrapped in an old military-green cotton-padded coat, sat under the porch sheltering from snow, beside him a rusted iron stove he must have dug out from somewhere.

Half-lidded, he held a fishing rod, its modern crystalline line extending from snow-free ground to the river’s surface.

A single fishing line dangled into the ice hole.

On the other side of the old man’s small stool sat a radio, playing “Double Devotion to Tang.”

“Brother, you’ve got the words wrong—listen as I give an example: In olden days, Han Xin plotted for the realm.”

“He died in Weiyang Palace!”

“Wang Mang poisoned Emperor Ping!”

“He was the true dragon descending from heaven!”

Two voices—one deep, one bright—took turns, one offering an example, the other countering, reaching a thrilling climax.

Suddenly, the second uncle opened his eyes and slapped his thigh.

“Wrong lines! Wang Mang should be chopped to pieces with no end—next line is: Li Yuan once served as minister to his lord, then comes ‘true dragon descending from heaven’!”

The second uncle’s face was full of regret; he shook his head.

“Such fine singing voice—how could he mess up the lines?”

“His singing voice is indeed excellent—but how’s his fishing skill?”

Chu Tianshu walked onto the bridge, laughing loudly.

The second uncle squinted, then recognized who it was.

“Oh! Tianshu, you’re finally back!”

He set the fishing rod aside on the stool, stood up smiling, and patted Chu Tianshu’s shoulder.

“You seem even sturdier—good! My haul’s been great: two crucian carp, three yellow catfish.”

“Catch them, kill them, boil them.”

Chu Tianshu followed and saw the iron stove—on it, a pot specially for stewing soup—gave off a rich aroma.

The fish bodies trembled in the boiling broth; ginger slices and scallion knots swirled within.

“Come on, get bowls and salt from the kitchen.”

The second uncle blocked the stove’s air vent, lifted the pot, kicked the iron lid shut over the opening—the fire would die out naturally.

Chu Tianshu closed his umbrella and followed into the courtyard, where the kitchen lay to the side.

As the second uncle carried the pot into the kitchen, a sound came from the front door of the living room—a person stepped out.

“Teacher Qiao!”

Chu Tianshu recognized the man and greeted him.

Teacher Qiao wore a black down jacket, smiling broadly: “Tianshu, I heard you went traveling—only just back today?”

Chu Tianshu nodded: “It’s not a holiday or festival—why are you here, Teacher Qiao? Looking to do business with Second Uncle?”

“No.”

Teacher Qiao cleared his throat, straightened his chest, “Look at me now—any difference?”

Chu Tianshu frowned slightly.

Thinning hair, a slightly chubby face, a beer belly—nothing seemed changed.

Those eyes… hmm?

Chu Tianshu’s spirit flickered: “Teacher Qiao, have you broken through?”

“Yes!”

Teacher Qiao, overjoyed, stamped his foot and stepped out, hugging Chu Tianshu tightly.

“I broke through! I damn well broke through! At my age, after all these years!”

Chu Tianshu was also delighted for him.

When Teacher Qiao was young, he had studied under Chu Tianshu’s grandfather but never managed to break through.

Later, though he gave up, he still knew the full set of visualization and meditation techniques, and would occasionally try again in his spare time.

During Chu Tianshu’s school years, he had several times caught Teacher Qiao in the teacher’s office in the midst of his secret attempts.

Now, at last, he had crossed that threshold.

Entering the path is the most critical step; once one passes this barrier, even if progress varies in speed, at least one can learn a few minor techniques.

“Teacher Qiao, when did this happen?”

“Almost a month ago.”

When speaking of this, Teacher Qiao still looked amazed.

“The moment I broke through, my first thought was to go to your house and tell Grandpa in front of his photo—but I hadn’t even left the school when the principal found me.”

“He’s also an insider?”

Chu Tianshu exclaimed: “Principal Li? He’s an insider?”

“Not Principal Li—it’s the new principal who came two months ago.”

Teacher Qiao explained, “He claims his cultivation is shallow, but I can tell he understands far more than I do.”

“I heard people like him, who aren’t strong in combat, are assigned to universities and high schools with special artifacts—something like a radar—designed to detect newly broken-through individuals like us and register them.”

Teacher Qiao laughed heartily, “He was focused on the students—never expected to get me.”

Chu Tianshu mused: “You were already a high school teacher—does that mean you’ve been naturally enrolled in the official reserve of special talents?”

“Yes, we just do our regular jobs; we don’t have to chase cases like the Special Capture Bureau. We only assist in maintaining order when absolutely necessary.”

Teacher Qiao said, “Even so, there are benefits—besides a raise, I got a powerful mental cultivation method. Unfortunately, I only have the first level so far; I’ll only get the next after mastering this one.”

From Teacher Qiao’s description, even at the entry stage, that mental cultivation method was clearly superior to the Ghost Gate Witch Doctor’s Annotations.

But the Ghost Gate Witch Doctor’s Annotations focus on medicine; mental quality was never its strength.

“I know you’re happy, but don’t stand out in the snow forever.”

Grandpa Er called from the kitchen: “Come in, have some fish soup.”

(End of Chapter)