Chapter Five: Direction

Evening lessons.

"Alright, that concludes the evening lesson. You may all be dismissed," Elder Qingsong said, setting aside the Daoist Canon and addressing the group.

"Yes, Uncle-Master," the disciples replied.

After most had left, Qin Yi hurried after Uncle-Master Qingsong.

"Please wait, Uncle-Master Qingsong! I have a question," Qin Yi called out.

Elder Qingsong paused. "Qin Yi, what is it you wish to ask?"

He recalled Qin Yi with some clarity—for while most disciples performed the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist with laziness and indifference during morning lessons, Qin Yi was among the few who practiced with genuine diligence.

"I have been earnestly practicing the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist for over two months, but I have not noticed any strengthening or health benefits. I came to seek your guidance," Qin Yi said respectfully.

Elder Qingsong looked over Qin Yi. "Show me your form," he instructed.

"Yes, sir!" Qin Yi nodded and began his demonstration.

This time, he deliberately concealed the fact that he had already reached a modest level of mastery, performing at a stage just beyond beginner but not yet proficient.

The entire set of movements flowed smoothly, without a single mistake.

"Hmm, it appears that your efforts over the past two months have indeed surpassed the average, equivalent to six months of ordinary practice. However, to see true results in health and strength from the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist, you need at least three years of hard work. As for the effects of longevity and wellness, you won't see those until five or even ten years have passed. You must persist," Elder Qingsong intoned earnestly.

"I see. Are there levels to this Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist?" Qin Yi asked.

Seeing that Qin Yi showed no disappointment, Elder Qingsong was slightly surprised. Most would be discouraged to hear that it took three to five years to see results, yet this young man before him showed no sign of dismay.

"Levels? You mean degrees of mastery? There are no strict divisions in martial arts proficiency—you can only estimate based on how many years you've trained. For instance, three years of effort, ten years, twenty, thirty, and so on."

"So the longer one trains, the more profound one's skill becomes?" Qin Yi asked, slightly taken aback. But on reflection, it made sense. In martial arts, how could one precisely define when one had achieved minor accomplishment or full mastery? Years of training served as the only real measure.

"Generally, yes, but not if you practice haphazardly. If you want to talk about true grading, it depends on actual combat, on assessment and ranking in practice. But that's a matter far removed from you for now," Elder Qingsong said, waving his hand.

"…"

"Then, can the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist be used to face an opponent?" Qin Yi inquired.

"Of course it can…" Uncle Qingsong began, then paused, a touch of helplessness in his tone. "Originally, the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist was not merely for health—it was a protective martial art, effective even in combat several centuries ago. Unfortunately, a few hundred years past, the main branch of our Supreme Purity Daoist Palace lost the accompanying medicinal recipes, so it can no longer be cultivated to great heights. Otherwise, do you think a group of uninitiated disciples like yourselves would be permitted to learn it? Such arts are not meant for outsiders!"

Qin Yi was stunned. There was so much information in this brief explanation!

The Qingwei Daoist Palace was just a branch of the Supreme Purity Daoist Palace.

The Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist was inherited from the Supreme Purity Daoist Palace?

This fist technique, like the martial arts practiced by the formally inducted senior disciples, could truly possess power?

Accompanying medicinal formulas? Did all the martial arts practiced by the formally inducted disciples require the aid of such formulas?

Had he managed to reach minor accomplishment only because of the system?

One question after another flashed through his mind.

Just as Qin Yi was about to ask more, Elder Qingsong seemed to realize he'd said too much. His expression turned stern. "Enough. You may go now. Remember, do not speak carelessly about the Five Qi Returning to Origin Fist!"

"Yes, Uncle-Master," Qin Yi replied, suppressing his desire to inquire further, and took his leave.

…

The next day, after morning lessons, Qin Yi hurried toward the steward's office.

Inside the steward's office.

"Junior Brother Qin, you're asking leave to go home—you're not just trying to shirk the paddy harvest coming up, are you?" Li Yan sneered.

"Senior Brother Li, I only wish to visit my elderly father for three days. The harvest isn’t for another seven or eight days. Please grant me this small favor." As he spoke, Qin Yi discreetly pressed twenty copper coins into Li Yan's hand.

Li Yan glanced around, weighed the coins in his palm, then narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Go quickly and return quickly—no more than three days!"

"Thank you, Senior Brother. I will be back within three days," Qin Yi promised.

He hurried back to his quarters, packed a few belongings, changed into plain clothes, and from beneath his straw mat drew out a neat bundle of manuscripts. "Whether I can make any money depends on you," he murmured.

He slipped the stack of papers into his bundle.

On those pages were dozens of poems familiar from his previous life, along with a short story of some ten or twenty thousand words.

He planned to try his luck at a publishing house, hoping to earn some manuscript fees.

Besides this errand, he also intended to spend his remaining 280 copper coins on pork or medicinal herbs to recharge his system, and to pay his father a visit.

His preparations complete, Qin Yi set off down the mountain at a brisk pace.

The Qingwei Daoist Palace was already situated on the outskirts of Jinyuan County, so within an hour Qin Yi had entered the county seat itself.

On the east side of town stood Xiu Xian Bookhouse, the only private publishing house in the county.

Upon entering, he saw four service windows in the main hall.

He chose one, where an elderly man of about fifty, scholarly in appearance, his hair streaked with white, awaited him.

"Young sir, are you here to publish a book or to submit a manuscript?" the old man asked, glancing at Qin Yi.

The elderly man knew every bookseller in Jinyuan County, so this visitor clearly wasn’t a wholesaler.

"To submit a manuscript," Qin Yi replied, taking out his bundle of poems—dozens of verses that, in his former world, would have been celebrated through the ages. Perhaps they would fetch a good price here.

"Are these essays, martial tales, or perhaps stories for entertainment?" the old man asked.

"They are poems and lyrics," Qin Yi explained.

"Poems and lyrics?" The old man frowned but took the pages and looked them over.

After a short while, he set them down and said coolly, "We generally only purchase poems from those with established reputation and talent, and even so, the price is low. Besides, these poems are not in the Dayong style—they resemble those from Dachu. We will not accept them."

"Ah..." Qin Yi was stunned. He had not expected that these timeless verses would not suit the tastes of this place.