High Martial Arts: Enlightenment after Practices

Xu Wuyi set down his backpack and walked to the window.

From here, he had a clear view of the deep tarn.

The sun was setting in the west, and its lingering glow cast a shimmering, golden-red light across the tarn’s surface. The water remained calm, but a closer look revealed a faint undercurrent slowly swirling in its depths.

”Static Water, deep flow...” Xu Wuyi repeated softly.

He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.

In his sea of consciousness, the great, dark-golden marsh breathed slowly, faintly resonating with the rhythm of the tarn outside the window.

For the next few days, Xu Wuyi’s life fell into a simple, disciplined routine.

Every morning at five, before the sky had lightened, he would go to the tarn’s edge, sit cross-legged on a smooth rock, and begin his silent Visualization.

The morning air in the Northern Lands was bone-chilling, and his every breath instantly condensed into a white mist.

But Xu Wuyi’s Qi and Blood circulated naturally, warding off the cold, his Heart and Spirit completely immersed in the rhythm of the tarn.

At first, the tarn only appeared calm to his eyes.

But as his Visualization deepened, he gradually realized this cold tarn was not so simple. He began to ”see” more.

The undercurrents beneath the surface were like silken threads, weaving together into a complex web.

Xu Wuyi sat cross-legged by the cold tarn. The early morning chill pricked his skin like fine needles, only to be silently neutralized by his circulating Qi and Blood.

His eyes were closed, but his Heart and Spirit were completely submerged in the inky blue water before him.

At first, everything was as usual.

The tarn’s surface was placid, without wind or wave, its depths unfathomable—just like Liang Sixian’s eyes.

But when he slowly extended his Spiritual Power, trying to touch the depths of the tarn, a strange sensation appeared.

It wasn’t a fluctuation on an Energy level, nor was it the manifestation of a life force. It was a more profound, more ineffable sense of ”presence.”

It was as if the tarn were not an inanimate object, but a colossal beast that had slumbered for countless ages. Each of its ”breaths” was so slow it was nearly imperceptible, yet it was undeniably real.

Xu Wuyi’s heart stirred, and he sank his Heart and Spirit even deeper.

His Spiritual Power probed into the tarn like a fine thread, extending downward inch by inch.

One meter. Two meters. Five meters. Ten meters...

He began to feel resistance.

It wasn’t physical resistance, but a kind of spiritual ”sluggishness.” The deeper he went, the more apparent a certain formless ”weight” within the water became, as if countless invisible threads were wrapping around his Spiritual Power, dragging it down.

But at the same time, Xu Wuyi also perceived more.

The depths of the tarn were not completely still and silent.

There were undercurrents.

Undercurrents that were exceedingly slow and faint, like the pulsing of the earth’s veins, swirled and converged along complex and profound paths.

More importantly, these undercurrents contained faint yet distinct spiritual imprints.

Not one or two, but hundreds, even thousands of them.

Some imprints were so faint they were like weathered inscriptions on a stone tablet, with only a vague outline remaining. Others were relatively clear, still retaining a unique ”flavor.”

Some were as tranquil as an abyss, others as nimble as a creek, some as vast and accepting as the sea, and others as biting as ice.

All the imprints had one thing in common: they were all related to ”water.”

’This is...’

Xu Wuyi opened his eyes and looked at the seemingly ordinary cold tarn before him, his mind reeling.

At breakfast, Fang Fu arrived at Xu Wuyi’s cabin carrying a food box.

”The food at the villa is simple and light. If you’re not used to it, Martial Artist Xu, I can have someone bring something else from outside the mountain,” Fang Fu said calmly, placing the food box on the table.

”This is already very good. I come from a common background; I’m not picky about these things,” Xu Wuyi said with a nod of thanks. He lifted the bowl of congee and took a sip, a warmth spreading through his stomach.

He looked at Fang Fu, hesitated for a moment, and then asked, ”Instructor Fang, that cold tarn... is there something special about it?”

Fang Fu’s movements paused. She looked up at him. ”You sensed it?”

”Deep within the tarn, there are many spiritual imprints,” Xu Wuyi said honestly. ”They’re very faint, but there are a great many of them, all related to the Water Realm.”

Fang Fu was silent for a few seconds before sitting down across from Xu Wuyi.

”Those are the spiritual imprints left behind by generations of disciples from the Static Water, Deep Flow lineage, left here while performing Visualization and Cultivation after advancing to the Innate realm,” she said slowly.

”The cold tarn itself is not special. Its water is just pure and cold, and the terrain gathers yin energy, making it suitable for cultivating a water-aspected Heart Image.”

”But for a thousand years, generation after generation of disciples have sought enlightenment and achieved breakthroughs here, leaving their imprints behind. Over the long years, these Spiritual Powers have settled into the water, gradually giving the tarn itself miraculous properties.”

She looked out the window, where the tarn’s surface shimmered in the morning light.

”The cold tarn now is no longer just an ordinary tarn. It’s like a silent classic, recording a thousand years of the Static Water, Deep Flow lineage’s understanding of Martial Arts.”

”Every Martial Artist who comes here for Visualization, as long as their Heart Image is related to water, can ’read’ something from it. Of course, how much they can read depends entirely on their own comprehension.”

Realization dawned on Xu Wuyi.

’No wonder Grandmaster Liang Sixian told me to perform Visualization by the tarn every morning.’

’This tarn is the most precious heirloom of the Static Water, Deep Flow lineage.’

”So, what everyone feels is different?” he asked.

”Correct.” Fang Fu nodded. ”When I performed Visualization here back then, I felt ’stillness’ and ’acceptance.’ My Master felt ’depth’ and ’flow.’ Other disciples have felt ’gentleness’ or ’resilience.’ It’s different for everyone.”

She paused, then looked at Xu Wuyi. ”What you felt was probably ’weight’ and ’life,’ wasn’t it?”

Xu Wuyi nodded.

A flicker of understanding passed through Fang Fu’s eyes. ”As I thought. The characteristics of your Heart Image determine the direction of your ’resonance.’”

She stood up to leave but paused at the door.

”Cherish these next few days. The insights from the cold tarn are of immense benefit for perfecting your Heart Image. My Master spent three years in seclusion here before she brought ’Static Water, Deep Flow’ to the level of Perfection.”

”Three years...” A sense of solemnity filled Xu Wuyi’s heart.

At five o’clock the next morning, he appeared by the tarn on time and sat down cross-legged for Visualization.

He completely submerged his Heart and Spirit into the water, not deliberately ”searching” for anything, but just quietly feeling the spiritual imprints that had settled there over a thousand years.

On the first day, he had captured seven relatively clear imprints.

One belonged to a senior from a hundred years ago. Their Heart Image was ”Frozen Ice,” and the imprint exuded a bone-chilling coldness and the decisiveness to freeze all things.

Another belonged to a Martial Artist from seventy years ago. Their Heart Image was ”Sea of Mist,” and the imprint was ethereal and ever-changing, difficult to grasp.

There was another one that was particularly special. The Heart Image seemed to be ”Tide,” and its imprint contained the majestic rhythm of an ebbing and flowing tide, which had a faint resonance with Xu Wuyi’s ”breathing.”

Xu Wuyi didn’t try to imitate or absorb these imprints. He only observed, felt, and understood them.

Different paths, different directions, but at their core, all were interpretations of the concept of ”water.”

This began to expand his own understanding of ”water” from the relatively singular concepts of ”weight” and ”sinking” toward a much broader dimension.

At nine in the morning, he would go to Liang Sixian’s cabin on time for an hour of discussion.

And Liang Sixian, often with just a few words, could point out the crux of the matter.