Chapter 5: Practicing Martial Arts Cultivates the Heart

After completely handing Fang Can over to the gang members for management, Fang Can was led away to complete his initiation procedures.

Along the way, after holding back for a while, the gang member escorting him finally couldn't help asking: "How did you come to know Tangzhu Li?"

As he asked, the gang member—appearing to be in his early thirties—could not help but feel curious about this short-haired, older recruit who had entered through connections.

After all, eighteen wasn't late for martial cultivation—only half-dead at best—but even so, Li Fengtian had chosen to bring Fang Can in, a privilege bordering on absolute authority.

No matter what, someone who entered through a Tangzhu's influence was not someone he could afford to offend; making friends was always safe.

Knowing this was a probe into his status, possibly affecting his reputation within the sect, Fang Can remained utterly confident:

"Tangzhu Li and I hit it off immediately. He felt I possessed extraordinary talent, and to prevent such a talent from being lost, he strongly urged me to join."

The gang member's lips twitched slightly, finding the boy utterly baffling, but he asked no more, then laughed heartily:

"Then when you've settled in, little brother, don't forget to lend a hand to your old brother. Any trouble, come find me—I'm Liu Yue. Just call me Old Liu from now on."

"Alright, Old Liu." Fang Can nodded seriously, showing not a trace of modesty, like a boy with no guile whatsoever.

As they walked and chatted, mostly Fang Can asked questions—nothing but basic, common-knowledge inquiries.

Though unsure why Fang Can asked these things, Liu Yue still answered every question honestly.

From Old Liu, Fang Can learned their country was called Dayan, vast in territory, and that powerful sects like Tiger Demon Gate, dominating hundreds of li, were countless.

Listening to Liu Yue's explanation, Fang Can felt Dayan was doomed.

After all, a country where kings ruled every corner inherently meant weak imperial control—either the Emperor of Dayan was playing a grand game, or he was insane.

Their current sect, Tiger Demon Gate, was the strongest power within hundreds of li, and its usual activities were far from virtuous: collecting protection fees, holding stakes in gambling dens and brothels, occasionally escorting shipments, occasionally robbing roads.

In short, in this region, Tiger Demon Gate was a local emperor—nothing could be done without its permission, the very kind of villain novels destined for annihilation by the protagonist.

Guided by Old Liu, Fang Can also memorized the locations of the sect's mess hall, scripture library, training hall, and dormitories.

After a simple registration of his information, Fang Can was officially admitted.

He also received two sets of black-and-red uniforms with a tiger-devouring emblem on the chest, secured a private dormitory, and obtained three taels of silver monthly stipend.

Through Old Liu's explanation, Fang Can learned that the lowest-ranking members in Tiger Demon Gate were not newcomers like him, but the laborers and servants.

Daily chores—sweeping, feeding horses—fell to them, and they slept crammed ten or more to a single room.

If a recruit like Fang Can showed no martial talent or value after some time, he would either be expelled or demoted to laborer.

After all, in this era, simply having a meal was hard enough; countless others longed to kneel but had no path to enter.

After circling about for roughly half an hour, completing all necessary formalities, Liu Yue returned to his post, leaving Fang Can alone to face his dormitory.

The single room was remote, about twenty square meters, sparsely but neatly furnished: one table, one chair, one bed, one quilt.

"Guess this is where I'll live now." Fang Can placed his sleepwear on the pillow, sighing—living in this environment would take a long time to adapt to.

'And no smartphones or computers—even if I cultivate to the pinnacle, my quality of life will still be worse than modern times, except for Cao Pi.'

Fang Can muttered to himself, wondering if martial cultivation could achieve the immortality seen in fantasy novels.

If it could, then once he became immortal, he'd push harder to rediscover the technological tree of the Industrial Revolution, and in his lifetime, watch some spicy videos again.

'Forget it. First goal: achieve immortality, then watch a movie.' Fang Can set his first small goal.

Lying on the hard wooden bed, to prepare for the afternoon training hall session, Fang Can forced his restless mind into sleep.

…

At noon, Fang Can woke after a half-hour nap, recognized his surroundings, and rose to head toward the training hall.

But before stepping out, he halted abruptly, turned back, and pulled a packet of transparent pills from the fold of his folded sleepwear before leaving again.

Without a word, from afar, Fang Can heard the training hall filled with the shouts of exerted energy.

As he drew closer, he felt a wave of heat—inside the entire training hall, thick with male pheromones.

On a space the size of four or five soccer fields, hundreds of men of varying ages, shirtless, displayed their skills in the cool autumn season.

Some lifted multi-hundred-jin millstones effortlessly, like Wu Song reborn; others darted like fish across five-meter-high plum-blossom stakes, leaving afterimages with every step.

Even children of fourteen or fifteen swung thirty- to forty-jin blades with fierce, roaring force.

'Impressive.' Watching this crowd of human monsters, Fang Can felt he had come to the right place.

As he stared, a hoarse voice came from his side: "You're the disciple Tangzhu Li brought in today, aren't you?"

Fang Can turned and saw a middle-aged man, over forty, with a square face full of menace, approaching.

Seeing Fang Can nod, the man gave a cold nod:

"I'm Yang Lie, head instructor of the training hall."

"Little Liu told me your situation. You've never trained before, and you can't keep up with students your age. I'll start from the very beginning."

Fang Can nodded—he had already prepared himself mentally; first be a grandson, then become a master.

"Good. Forget everything else. Memorize every word I say next."

Yang Lie's gaze locked onto Fang Can: "Martial cultivation's most essential element is cultivating the heart. Only when your heart believes can the marvels of the martial Dao manifest upon the flesh."

"Cultivating the heart?" Fang Can paused, puzzled—this martial path was unlike what he'd imagined.

"You don't need to understand why. Just know I'm absolutely right. If your will is strong enough, your faith sincere enough, the entire world will make way for you."

Yang Lie spoke with absolute certainty, like a cult leader drilling his words into Fang Can.

(End of Chapter)