Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

”Everything you’ve said is golden advice, Senior Brother, and I understand the principle... But I only just recently refined my Blood Qi. I don’t feel confident at all...”

Chen Cheng first gave him a graceful way out before making a tempting offer for the future.

”Once I’ve gotten stronger, I’ll trouble you to make the introductions again, Senior Brother. When that time comes, I’m willing to hand over my entire first salary silver.”

”Heh! Now that’s more like it!”

Qian Baolu broke into a grin, his stern expression instantly melting away.

”You’re a sharp one, Junior Brother, and straightforward too. From now on, if there’s anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask me.”

”Thank you, Senior Brother. I was just about to ask, what are the living arrangements?”

Chen Cheng mentioned, as if in passing,

”Tutor Fang left in a hurry this afternoon and didn’t get a chance to tell me.”

A barely perceptible glint flashed in Qian Baolu’s eyes as he smiled and said,

”The rooms on the southwest side are for White Disciples—six people squeezed into one. The rooms on the northeast side are for us Black Disciples, and they’re all small, private rooms.”

”The room right next to mine happens to be empty. It’s East Thirty-Three. Go check it out after you finish eating...”

”If it looks alright, head to the General Affairs Room next to the small gate of the Inner Hall to register. Once you get your lock, key, and bedding, you can move in.”

Chen Cheng nodded and thanked him again.

Qian Baolu made a bit more small talk before heading off toward a more crowded and lively area.

「After dinner.」

As instructed, Chen Cheng went to the row of houses along the eastern courtyard wall and found the private room with the number thirty-three carved into its doorframe.

The door was ajar, pushing open with a light touch.

The space inside was small. Other than a bare wooden plank bed against the wall, it was empty.

He could take it all in with a single glance. There was nothing out of place.

Chen Cheng then went to the General Affairs Room. After registering, he received a lock and key, a set of reasonably thick bedding, and a small vial of Blood Nourishing Powder.

Back in his room, he locked the door, made the bed, and after a simple tidying, Chen Cheng was finally settled in his own small world.

He spent the entire night in his room, practicing his Health Tai Chi over and over.

His Heart Spirit submerged as his Blood Qi circulated silently. Only when his entire body felt at ease and his Divine Intent was brimming did he slowly withdraw from his stance.

When he pushed the door open, it was already the dead of night.

He took a deep breath.

The air here wasn’t exactly fresh, still thick with the lingering daytime smells of sweat and dust.

But compared to the ever-present, despairing stench of the slums—a foulness that felt like it could seep into your very bones—this was a world of difference.

As the night breeze washed over him, he felt a long-lost sensation: the feeling of his lungs truly expanding.

It was then that Chen Cheng suddenly noticed the moonlight spilling across the courtyard, outlining the silhouettes of figures still training, sweat pouring off them like rain.

Most had White Cards hanging from their waists. Their exhausted movements showed they were barely holding on, yet as if locked in some silent competition, none were willing to be the first to stop and rest.

A few Black Disciples were scattered around the courtyard as well, likewise drenched in sweat and pushing themselves to their limits.

The night wind grew colder. In the vast courtyard, there were no battle cries, no passionate fervor—only an obsessive persistence that seemed branded into their very bones.

Standing in the shadows before his room, Chen Cheng quietly watched the scene, and couldn’t help but be reminded of his own time in the Lower Courtyard.

They too were bound by a Death Oath Contract, and they too could only push themselves to their absolute limits, training in a way that bordered on self-abuse.

The difference was, these White Disciples in the Middle Courtyard had three meat-filled meals a day, a safe place to live, and resources, opportunities, and connections to fight for.

Compared to this, the Lower Courtyard was undoubtedly on Hell difficulty.

Chen Cheng knew full well how arduous his journey had been. How could he dare to slack off for even a moment?

Back to the room, lock the door, and continue training!

...

「The next morning.」

After eating the dining hall’s standard-issue white congee and pork, Chen Cheng’s stomach was full...

...but a faint sense of weakness permeated his entire body, as if a part of his foundation had been scooped out and not yet replenished.

Last night, he had pushed himself too hard practicing the Hidden Dragon Fist. Even though he had later used his Health Tai Chi to activate its Health-Preserving Traits, completely dispelling his fatigue and recovering ninety-nine percent of his stamina...

...the toll that honing the Fist Technique took on his physical body couldn’t be replenished out of thin air. It had to be filled and fortified with substantial food or medicinal supplements.

’I might as well try it...’

Acting on the principle that true knowledge comes from practice, Chen Cheng took out five maces of broken silver, called over a White Disciple, and asked him to add an order of Deer Meat Medicinal Cuisine.

He was served a small soup tureen. It contained only a few chunks of meat mixed with several types of medicinal roots and stems. The broth was a murky, blood-red color, and its aroma was a bitter, gamey stench that shot straight up his nose.

Frowning, he shoveled it down in a few quick bites.

Before long, a gentle warmth began to spread from his stomach, seeping like fine threads into his limbs.

He stretched his limbs a little, and the nagging feeling of weakness truly began to fade. He felt like a parched desert that had been blessed with nourishing rain, coming ”alive” once more.

Chen Cheng let out a soft breath, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding Black Disciples who, having also finished their breakfast, were unhesitatingly paying for extra food.

’Apparently, not a single Wen is wasted.’ he thought.

After leaving the dining hall, Chen Cheng walked straight toward the main gate of the courtyard.

In a small room by the gate, a disciple stood on duty. Only after confirming Chen Cheng’s Black Character Waist Token did he open the gate and let him pass.

A disciple with a White Character Token, on the other hand, would not have the freedom to leave.

By now, the sky was bright.

Golden-red sunlight spilled down, making the wide, flat, bluestone main street outside the hall gleam.

The street was bustling with voices, and shop banners fluttered on both sides.

Bulging sacks were piled high at the grain merchant’s entrance, the heavy scent of oil wafted from the press, and a clerk from the clothier stood under the eaves, eagerly beckoning to passersby.

The teahouse was filled with early risers discussing business, while waiters carrying long-spouted bronze kettles zipped between tables as if on wings.

The air was a rich, vibrant mix of steaming food, dust, and the distinct smells of commerce.

While this scene was a far cry from the Inner City, for the destitute, it was an unreachable paradise.

...

Chen Cheng walked quickly and soon arrived at a needlework workshop on the edge of the An Nan District.

The storefront was small, and the interior was dim. The air smelled of dusty fabric and sour starch paste.

Chen Cheng immediately spotted Hu Niu in a corner.

Her head was bowed as she painstakingly embroidered a piece of silk.

It had only been a few days, but she looked completely wrung out. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and even her normally neat braids were now frizzy and disheveled.

”Pick up the pace! The Master needs this batch of handkerchiefs delivered the day after tomorrow!”

A female Steward ambled over, her finger nearly poking Hu Niu in the nose as she spoke, sending spittle flying.

”Zhou Qiao, out of everyone here, you’re the slowest, and you keep making mistakes! I’m docking you Ten Wen from this month’s wages!”

Several other women at their workstations glanced over furtively. Their faces showed pity, but none dared to speak up.

Hu Niu flinched, her shoulders slumping. She didn’t talk back, but the knuckles of the hand gripping her needle turned white.

”Did you hear me?! Answer me! You itching for a beating again!?”

The Steward deliberately raised her voice and, stiffening her finger, went to poke Hu Niu’s forehead.

”She heard you.”

A calm voice came from the entrance.

Everyone in the workshop froze for a moment, then turned to look.

Chen Cheng stepped out of the sunlight and into the workshop, walking straight toward Hu Niu.

The Steward frowned at first, but when she got a clear look at Chen Cheng’s clothing and bearing, her heart clenched.

”This... sir... are you from the Dragon Mountain Middle Courtyard? I... I wonder what brings you here?”

The harsh look on the Steward’s face vanished, instantly replaced by a fawning smile.