Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: Speaking of Wu

When Pei Ye arrived at the county office, Chang Zhiyuan had not yet returned; Shen Yanping sat in the courtyard polishing his slender, thin sword, while Feng Zhi squatted nearby inspecting a large halberd and a set of heavy armor taken from the arms depot.

“Wearing this, you won’t even brush their sleeves.”

“We won’t touch them anyway—this armor might let us take two more hits.”

Shen Yanping shook his head and smiled.

“Damn, the ropes are rotten from disuse—boy, you’re just in time, tie these two armor plates together.”

Pei Ye knelt beside them and leaned his sword against the stone bench, letting out a metallic clang.

Feng Zhi looked up and said, “If we truly lose, don’t even draw the sword from its scabbard—run straight into the deep mountains, head toward the state capital, and you might still have a chance.”

Shen Yanping sighed softly: “One person escaping only means someone else dies, just like last night…”

Pei Ye said, “Are you two worried the man will strike early?”

The constables just reported that Magistrate Chang hasn’t made any arrests yet, but who knows if he’s waiting until we gather all the talented people in the county before selecting seven? Shen Yanping shook his head. “We know too little about the enemy to prepare properly. The most dangerous period will be the one or two hours after we concentrate everyone at the office, until Commandant Jing arrives.”

Pei Ye pressed his lips together and said, “I can help defend too.”

Before Shen Yanping could speak, Feng Zhi frowned and looked up: “Aren’t you the one who failed to break the seed?”

“Yes,” Pei Ye said. “But I know a sword technique—maybe it’ll be useful.”

“...” Feng Zhi rolled his eyes. “Youngsters always have this stupid, blind confidence.”

Shen Yanping smiled, then grew solemn: “Thank you, Young Master Pei, for your courage and benevolence. But your greatest contribution will be protecting yourself—keeping the criminal from succeeding is our shared victory.”

Pei Ye fell silent and nodded.

Shen Yanping suddenly smiled again: “Actually, the situation isn’t this dire—we’re just overthinking. If the enemy could arrest people in advance, the best strategy would be to seize twelve at once and hide them in the deep mountains, holding the ritual over three days. Given the current situation, they likely can only access some mysterious power during the ritual itself, thereby locking onto their targets. By then, Commandant Jing will already be here.”

In truth, this was indeed the objective reality—but Feng Zhi and Shen Yanping were like students who, after finishing an exam with confidence, grew anxious before the results: any hint of possible deviation made them uneasy.

Pei Ye hesitated, then bowed: “I’m inexperienced—may I ask, when Commandant Jing arrives, will he definitely resolve the crisis?”

This time, not only Shen Yanping smiled, but Feng Zhi’s lips curled slightly too.

Shen Yanping said, “Lord Lin has a Five-Branched Vein Tree; judging by the traces, the criminal must be Seven-Branched—a rare master indeed. But Commandant Jing has been refining his Eight-Branched Vein Tree for ten years, and earlier this year he finally achieved the Xuan Crane Hanging Robe milestone—he’s now worthy of the title Master.”

Pei Ye was stunned. This was truly foolproof.

To speak of “Dantian Seed” and “Vein Tree,” one must begin at the beginning, clarifying the very concept of Wu Gong.

Whether in a martial school, a household, a sect, or the army, the first lesson for any ordinary person beginning cultivation is always: “What is Wu Gong?”

To the common man, Wu Gong means “can fight.” Someone like Pei Ye—who wields sword or saber, scales rooftops, and wins in close combat—is considered a “top-tier expert” even in a small county. But in truth, this is merely greater strength, longer leaps, quicker reflexes, and years of weapon training leading to mastery.

“True Wu Gong… is what turns you into another kind of person,” Pei Ye remembered his Uncle Yue saying.

How can a leaf or flower pierce a throat? How can a hundred-jin man stand lightly on a branch and walk across water? How is telepathy or distant object retrieval achieved?

All this becomes possible only after the seed in the dantian splits into two sprouts—the so-called “Vein Tree First Branch.” With the Vein Tree comes true Qi; without true Qi, no matter how skilled one is, one has not entered the gate—merely an “inexperienced novice” to insiders.

Pei Ye is now a very strong “inexperienced novice.”

From those two sprouts, they split into four—the Vein Tree Second Branch—then eight for Third, sixteen for Fourth, and so on, up to eight divisions totaling two hundred fifty-six.

The scale of the Vein Tree directly determines Qi reserves; understanding this mechanism allows rough judgment of a martial artist’s strength.

Cultivators at the Third Branch and below—those with two, four, or eight veins—have not yet pulled far ahead of the “inexperienced novice.”

At this stage, though true Qi offers infinite subtleties and the difference between those with and without it is vast, combat is not about size alone—strength, technique, experience, environment, and weapons can all bridge the gap. Pei Ye often held his own against several senior cultivators with Second or Third Branch Vein Trees during the Mid-Autumn Martial Gathering.

But in truth, such underdog victories rarely extend beyond Third Branch.

Fourth Branch: sixteen from eight; Fifth Branch: thirty-two from sixteen; Sixth Branch: sixty-four from thirty-two—this explosive growth far exceeds human physical limits.

From here on, no matter how naturally strong you are or how frail your opponent, you cannot overcome the sheer volume of Qi. Moreover, the opponent’s greatest advantage isn’t just Qi-enhanced physique—it’s that those without Qi simply don’t understand its subtleties, and thus cannot anticipate their attacks. You think a strike is spent, but they twist their wrist into a stronger slash; you think they’re airborne with no footing, yet they glide horizontally through empty air.

Even if you’ve heard of these things, you have no time to think or react in battle.

These are impossible angles, wild ideas, coupled with a comprehensive enhancement of all five senses—what the “inexperienced novice” considers “impossible” is merely a casual strike to those who wield Qi.

“True Qi” fundamentally alters martial theory, and with its myriad subtle applications, calling Vein Tree cultivators “another kind of person” is no exaggeration.

At Seventh Branch—one hundred twenty-eight veins—and Eighth Branch—two hundred fifty-six veins—this monstrous growth has utterly distanced them from those below.

Four can sometimes beat five—Feng Zhi might win one out of twenty fights against Lin Lin; five might occasionally beat six, like young prodigies from great sects—but victories of six over seven or seven over eight are exceedingly rare.

Some argue Seventh and Eighth Branches should each be classified as separate realms—and there’s merit to this.

As for the realm after the Vein Tree is fully formed, it concerns almost no one and has nothing to do with “Wu”—it is the position Commandant Jing occupies. The Treatise on Wu Gong says: “Ascend the jade steps of the Xuan Gate, transform life and destiny within Heaven and Earth, to climb the celestial pavilion.” There, sorcerers and martial artists converge as one.