Data-Driven Daoist

No, I need more data first. Let’s not be hasty.

Yu Han laid the nine manuals written in Common Script on the table. Three books, five scrolls.

Of them, one was a sword scripture. One was an archery technique and another was a lightness skill. Three were fist techniques, two leg techniques, and the final one for the polearm.

What the hell is a lightness skill?

Yu Han read the names.

Fist techniques:

“Iron Mountain Fist, Sevenfold Strikes of the Waves, Thunderclap Punch.”

Leg techniques:

“Whirlpool Kick Method, Bronze Crane Leg.”

Polearm technique:“Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms.”

Sword scripture:

“Silver Serpent Sword Dance.”

Archery art:

“Waterfall Piercing Arrow.”

And finally, the lightness skill: “Feather Scale Step.”

Yu Han read each of the techniques from start to end. The sketches were detailed, the brushstrokes impeccable. It seemed as though they were penned by the same person.

This handwriting looks familiar… Wait, each of these manuals has different authors. The Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms was invented by a soldier who later became a Duke in a mortal kingdom, and the Waterfall Piercing Arrow was created by a hunter.

They were copied, then. It must have been Elder Scribe. The writing on these manuals matched the scroll that had fallen to the floor.

If he could confirm again by going into Deep Sleep, that would be better. But he couldn’t wake at will. No alarm clocks.

Yu Han went back to check the other two shelves. Let’s see what the data says.

He isolated similar shapes, then checked the manuals over. They’re all written by the same person. Or copied. Except the scroll placed on the table.

A powerful sect Elder wanted to do something nice for his family. And I came in to ruin it.

It was a dangerous situation.

Yu Han went back to reading the Common Script manuals, the plan growing more concrete in his mind.

The books were not that thick. The Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms was the longest with a hundred and thirty pages, but most of it was diagrams, and the text amounted to twenty pages at max.

The others ranged from five pages to fifty. Among then, seven had diagrams, and the other two—the sword technique and lightness skill—only had densely packed words.

Two hours passed.

He put the manuals back in their place and moved back to the other two shelves. He took the first scroll and unrolled it. He couldn’t read it, but he observed every stroke and every crease. After that, he took the next book, and the next.

After another hour, he had scanned through all thirty-seven manuals. Thirty-eight including the red ribboned scroll on the table. Including the ones written in Common Script, there were forty-seven.

Next step, select one manual. Now, which do I want?

There were eight real options. That would depend on what Yu Han was capable of currently.

Let’s go by process of elimination.

He eliminated the sword scripture first. He stabbed himself just by swinging a dagger around. Maybe he could get a wooden sword, but he would need years of training before he became good at such close combat.

And he didn’t want to get close to the enemy. So he eliminated the fist and leg techniques too.

Are you kidding me? If I bring a fist to a gunfight, this rebirth will have been in vain. He’d basically have to be in the enemy’s stab range to be close enough to punch. No thank you!

Archery looked like a good option. But back on Earth, even in medieval times, good bows were expensive. And similarly to the sword, it would take months, if not years, to get good enough. Arrows might be one-time use, and if someone got close to him, he would be done for.

So the best thing would be to select a technique for preserving his life.

“Feather Scale Step.” After reading the manual, Yu Han concluded that it was a movement technique.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

According to the flowery words of the author, it allowed the practitioner to tread as lightly as drifting petals, each step weightless, evading the mortal pull of the earth. When mastered, the body would become as light as mist, slipping through cracks in the wind, untouchable by blade or strike.

It was as if the author was mocking him! Each step weightless? Light as a drifting petal? Slipping through cracks?

Ptui! Yu Han patted his belly. It jiggled.

Fuck.

What a cruel joke. If he were eighty kilos lighter, then maybe.

Eliminated! For now, anyway.

Yu Han took up the final manual. It was the first one he had read, Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms. It was a manual for elite infantry of a certain kingdom. It started with a halberd. There was a picture in the manual. It looked like a spear, but other than the extended spear-tip, there was also a dagger axe and a scythe-like hook for pulling.

It looked like a complicated weapon. Yu Han knew very little about it, and most of Johan’s knowledge came from media like comics and video games.

The author of the manual mentioned that it was a standard training weapon for infantry, who usually came from poor backgrounds. It gave them a chance to challenge horseback riders and shield bearers.

The forms trained the body for combat, emphasizing stability, agility, and endurance. When practised, it would build strength in the shoulders, core, and legs, all while coordinating with the weapon’s movement. The forms varied widely—swings, thrusts, hooks, arcs, chops, drags—but all used the weight, momentum, and inertia of the weapon, plus the wielder’s footwork, to create the strikes. Forms included the Heavy Ox Swing, Mountain Root Stance, Stone-Cutting Chop, and sixty-nine others.

It all sounded interesting. And tedious. And beyond Yu Han’s comprehension.

But one passage caught his eye.

“… take heed, oh mighty soldier. For the 72 forms build the body of the humble farmer and merchant into the sculpted figure of a soldier. It sheds the unneeded meat and fat from days of slow living, forging the flesh and bones to the divine form of the infantry. Move in the war they shall, from one battle to another. They will fight in the field for days without tiring and take on sword and cavalries alike with superior reach…”

Cardio, resistance training, grip strength, core, shoulders, chest! Every day is a leg day, with a dose of balance workout too. I’m sold.

Yu Han couldn’t change many things. His talent in cultivation, Traits, Arts. But there was one thing he could make measurable progress on: Fat loss.

Throughout the last two months, he had been trying it. He was two knots thinner on the rope he used to measure his waist. He could do fifteen pushups now, and almost fifty squats without falling.

He wanted a scale. He imagined himself writing each day’s measurements, including his waist circumference, weight, and calorie intake on a nice spreadsheet, then optimizing each variable to result in greater weight loss per day, week, month, and year!

Diet was the hardest part. Both the ship and the Drizzle had an almost unlimited amount of food, as did the two villages. It was so easy to overeat, as if the instincts of his body hijacked his mind to gorge himself on food.

He needed something else. A push. A catalyst. An inciting incident. Otherwise, it was hard to find the motivation to keep such intense, consistent effort.

Yu Han sighed. Either he needed to push himself by putting himself in a scenario where backing out wasn’t an option, or something needed to happen. He didn’t want to do the former, and he didn’t want the latter to surprise him.

No use stressing over it now. Yu Han decided on the manual, then went over what he would say once more in his mind.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. But he had enough data to support it.

Let’s try it out. If negotiations work, they work. If they don’t, I’ll just take this manual.

First, a revision.

Yu Han looked over all the manuals in the room one last time. Then he scoured the place, just in case he’d missed anything.

Two more hours went by.

Finally, he wiped the sweat off his brow. The urge to pee was growing stronger.

Let’s do this.

“Miss, there’s a matter I’d like to ask,” Yu Han said, standing near the door. It would be nice if he had a clock or a watch, but by estimation, it had barely been five and a half hours.

“Have you selected your manual already, commoner?” a discontented voice said.

“That’s the thing. This Yu Han thinks he is too dull to remember,” Yu Han said. “So I was wondering if Elder Scribe’s previous offer was still on the table.”

There was a shuffling sound, then the door swung open. Yu Han took a step back.

“Why retreat?” the girl asked, excitement and confusion visible on her face.

“I-If I leave the room, the token is useless.”

“It only happens when you select a manual and record it in the scroll. My grandfather does the recording,” the girl said. “Were you serious?”

Yu Han nodded. “Although perhaps I need to clarify. This Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms does sound quite interesting. If only they had a more detailed copy. And maybe a few more extra training resources. My life at the Sect is only starting, after all.”

“You wait here.” The girl left.

Yu Han sat down at the table, the red ribboned scroll spread open.

There was a diagram of a lotus flower. A sketch of a woman danced on top of it. From one form to another, a total of a hundred and eight. It was obviously meant for a female.

“You dare play mind games with me, obese boy?” Elder Scribe barged in.

Yu Han hastily stood.

Elder Scribe’s eyes went to the open scroll on the table, and a corner of his brow twitched.

“I don’t dare!” Yu Han said. “I couldn’t get what you said out of my mind as I read these manuals.” He pointed at the shelf with the Common Script manuals. He’d already put everything back. “I think what you said made sense. I can exchange my reward for something more suitable for me.”

“Do you think the Sect rules are a game? Change your mind whenever you want?” Elder Scribe said.

“If it can’t be helped, then I’ll just take that scroll,” Yu Han said, picking up the red ribboned scroll on the table. “It looks impressive.”

“Wait! We shall not be hasty,” Elder Scribe said. “Let this Scribe consult the lawbooks.”

With that, the wiry man left. The girl stood by the door, fidgeting.

Elder Scribe returned in less than five minutes.

Who do you think you’re fooling, poser? Yu Han tried his best to maintain a poker face.

“Ahem,” Elder Scribe coughed. “There is no explicit clause against changing one’s mind halfway, for this specific reward-giving scenario. You can no longer take a manual from here, and the next person will only have the remaining time.”

So we’ll be going with a technicality? The Sect rules were malleable; there were loopholes. Nice to know.

“Thank the heavens.” Yu Han pretended to sigh in relief. “I think the Elder is rational, logical, and far-sighted beyond my own judgement.” Butter him up!

“It is my experience, young child. Now speak. What shall you wish to exchange for the token?” Elder Scribe asked.

“A separate copy of the Ox Tail 72 Sweeping Forms,” Yu Han said, as subserviently as he could.

The girl gave a nod. A separate copy, not the one in the room, wouldn’t qualify as a reward for the token.

“An appropriate halberd.”

She looked at her grandfather but didn’t speak.

“Ten informative books written in Common Script.”

Elder Scribe frowned.

“And a thousand spirit stones.”