Chapter 83

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Chapter 83: Genius

It goes without saying that a day’s labor was hard work, but Zhang Xiaohua had grown accustomed to it and didn’t feel any fatigue. However, constantly recalling the moves of the Arhat Fist from morning to night was mentally exhausting.

Unfortunately, when it was time for evening practice, the disciple who had taught him in the morning was at a loss for words. Zhang Xiaohua had forgotten all but the first six moves!

The disciple reported this disheartening news to He Tianshu, feeling helpless. This disciple couldn’t be taught. No matter how slow a learner someone might be, they should have remembered the moves after He Tianshu had taught them, but why couldn’t Zhang Xiaohua remember them? The disciple couldn’t spend all his time teaching Zhang Xiaohua the Arhat Fist at the expense of his own practice, could he?

He Tianshu pondered for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said: “You teach him tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll switch to someone else. We have four people, I refuse to believe we can’t teach him the Arhat Fist!”

That night, the results were fruitful. After the disciple hand-taught Zhang Xiaohua seven or eight times, Zhang Xiaohua managed to perform sixteen moves of the Arhat Fist in front of He Tianshu. The onlooking disciples of the Piaomiao Sect were all thinking the same thing: “Diligence pays off. Even an iron rod can be ground into a needle. The ancients were right.”

As everyone, pleased and satisfied with their teaching efforts, went back to their rooms to sleep, Zhang Xiaohua remained in the practice area, reviewing the complete set of Arhat Fist moves repeatedly. Unfortunately, at some point, he began to forget the moves one by one. Poor Zhang Xiaohua was at a loss, continuing to practice or stopping felt equally problematic. If he stopped, he might forget the moves, if he continued, he feared he would still forget them. He was in a dilemma.

In the end, he had no choice but to assume the horse stance.

It was only late at night that he slowly made his way back to his room.

Disappointed, Zhang Xiaohua was unaware that a pair of eyes had been watching him through the night, the one-armed Elder Yu, who had come to observe again.

The next morning, Zhang Xiaohua’s attempt at the Arhat Fist once again shattered the spirits of the Piaomiao Sect’s disciples. The confidence they had built the previous night as teachers collapsed instantly. Watching Zhang Xiaohua still making the same five and a half moves full of mistakes, He Tianshu decisively swapped in another disciple, who approached with a sense of resignation, almost like a martyr singing: “The wind is bleak, the Yi River runs cold”.

That day’s martial arts practice was a replay of the previous day. He Tianshu was speechless. What a genius, this genius is rare in a thousand years, he really should be number one in the Piaomiao Sect.

For several days, the disciples of the Piaomiao Sect took turns teaching Zhang Xiaohua, and the result was that their understanding of the Arhat Fist reached an unprecedented “brand new” realm. Everyone took turns to relive their “warm” initial days of martial arts training. Eventually, looking at Zhang Xiaohua’s unchanged five-and-a-half moves, He Tianshu waved his hand, dismissing his last shred of hope, his once fervent heart returning to its usual calm.

“I always expected for a big pie to fall from the sky and land in my mouth. Unfortunately, while I guessed the process right, but not the ending. What fell was a big iron hammer, hitting me right on the head.” In the days that followed at Huaxi Villa, this became He Tianshu’s most frequently repeated phrase.

Disappointment was disappointment, and resentment was resentment, but the tasks assigned by Miss Ou still had to be completed.

Thus, He Tianshu changed his strategy and began teaching Zhang Xiaohua a second set of techniques, the Tianluo Fist. The Tianluo Fist was also a very simple martial art, comprising twenty moves. After demonstrating it once, he then taught Zhang Xiaohua step-by-step. Perhaps because of the foundation laid by the Arhat Fist, Zhang Xiaohua managed to learn twelve moves on the first attempt, giving He Tianshu a glimmer of hope. However, Zhang Xiaohua’s performance the next day was like a tornado that left He Tianshu’s heart barren once again.

[TL_Note: Tianluo Fist= Heavenly Net Fist]

In addition to the opening move, the Tianluo Fist that Zhang Xiaohua remembered only had three moves with many mistakes. Moreover, these three moves were not three sequential moves, they were three random moves from the first twelve. Yet somehow, Zhang Xiaohua managed to string them together, making it look somewhat coherent.

He Tianshu, along with the other three disciples, had completely given up any hope for Zhang Xiaohua.

He Tianshu changed his strategy once more. Instead of having all four of them teach Zhang Xiaohua the same set of techniques, he decided that each of the three disciples would teach Zhang Xiaohua a different set of techniques. He himself stopped teaching Zhang Xiaohua altogether. Anyway, it didn’t matter who taught him, the results were always the same. Zhang Xiaohua would either forget or get it wrong. They didn’t need to work hard, they would just teach one technique at a time.

At first, the three disciples each tried teaching Zhang Xiaohua one set of techniques multiple times. But they quickly realized that it didn’t matter how many times they repeated it, whether once or twenty times. By the next day, Zhang Xiaohua would only remember a few moves. More repetitions didn’t help. So, they adjusted their strategy, they would only teach one set of techniques each day, no more.

Life for the Piaomiao Sect disciples returned to normal, except that each night one of the three disciples would teach Zhang Xiaohua a new set of techniques, regardless of its complexity, only once. Then, the next morning, Zhang Xiaohua would demonstrate whatever he still remembered.

In this strange training regime, Zhang Xiaohua learned incomplete versions of various techniques: Erlang Fist, Weituo Fist, Great Sage Fist, Eight Immortals Fist, Tianluo Fist, Earthly Fiend Fist, Six Stars Fist, Nezha Fist, Vajra Fist, Guanyin Fist, Buddha Warrior’s Fist, Buddhist Fist, Arhat Fist, Vajra Hammer, Twenty-Eight Constellations Fist, Four Immortals Sparring Fist, Seven Companion Stars Fist, Arhat Mantis Fist, Yaksha Patrolling the Sea Fist, Vajra Samadhi Palm, and Yaksha Iron Sand Palm. Each day he learned one new technique.

Sometimes he could remember nearly ten moves, other times, just two or three. Rarely were these moves consecutive as intended. Most of them, Zhang Xiaohua had connected them himself in unusual ways. Strangely, the way he linked them was often quite skillful, sometimes in ways so subtle even He Tianshu was amazed. More bizarrely, the moves Zhang Xiaohua remembered were rarely correct, most of them were changed by Zhang Xiaohua, and these changes stuck in his memory firmly. No amount of correction could revert them, and he never forgot these altered moves or performed them incorrectly again.

After teaching martial arts in the evening, watching Zhang Xiaohua practice various incomplete and seemingly coherent martial arts styles, He Tianshu shook his head, thinking: “To learn martial arts like this, he can also be considered a genius.”

Following that, for a long time, Zhang Xiaohua got up early and went to bed late. He was the first to arrive at the training ground early in the morning, and he would not return to his room until the very last moment of deep night. His diligence in training was observed in secret by Elder Yu, who nodded approvingly, thinking to himself: “Zhang Xiaohua’s talent is indeed not ordinary. His head is simply a block of elm wood, like a block of rotten wood that cannot be carved. However, his perseverance and hard work are not to be underestimated. He truly has the potential to be forged into something great.”

Little did he know that every time Zhang Xiaohua entered the door, he would hold his breath and curse silently in his heart. When would Ma Jing finally start washing his feet? Each morning when he rushed out of the door, he would cheer inwardly, finally able to breathe fresh air.

Sigh, Heaven has eyes. Does every successful man have someone silently supporting him? But behind Zhang Xiaohua, could it really be this stinky-footed Ma Jing?

Leaving aside Zhang Xiaohua’s diligent practice of basic martial arts learned by other disciples of the Piaomiao sect when they were four or five years old at the Huanxi Villa, the neighboring Piaomiao Manor was currently a scene of joy and excitement.

Inside the conference hall of the Piaomiao Sect, it was bustling and lively, completely different from its usual solemn atmosphere. Ou Peng still sat high in the center, smiling as he watched the noisy scene below. Although Ou Peng appeared calm, the smile on his face clearly conveyed his elation. The smile on his face made everyone know that Sect Master Ou was very uplifted and very excited.

Thinking about it, the Piaomiao Sect has a recorded heritage spanning several hundred years since its founding. It goes without saying that the unrecorded history was unknown to anyone. According to records, the influence of the Piaomiao Sect seemed to have never extended beyond the Luo River. Even at its peak, it only covered as far south as the Ten Thousand Swords Peak. However, due to several incompetent sect masters in later years, the Piaomiao Sect declined and retreated to the vicinity of Pingyang City. Recently, Ou Peng personally commanded the battle against the Luo River Gang. Although naval warfare was not the Piaomiao sect’s forte, under the arrangements and deployments of Ou Peng and Shangguan Feng, they miraculously won with minimal casualties and even personally captured Shui Yupeng, the leader of the Luo River Gang.

The Luo River Gang was based along the Luo River and had many members, and while their overall strength was slightly inferior to that of the Piaomiao Sect, it was not by much. The Piaomiao Sect’s successful capture of the Luo River Gang was largely attributed to the crucial role played by the elite squads. Furthermore, the complete eradication of the high-level members of the Luo River Gang was achieved thanks to the martial prowess of the Piaomiao Six Tigers.

Reflecting on the recent battle at the heart of the Luo River Gang, Ou Peng couldn’t help but feel lingering apprehension. He hadn’t anticipated that Shui Yupeng would be such a formidable hidden master, and the several hall masters and elders in the gang were also strong. If not for the unexpected encounter at Five-Claw Mountain earlier that year, the Piaomiao Sect might have faced defeat and possibly been all left behind in the Luo River. This realization prompted Ou Peng to remind himself to tread carefully in the Jianghu, as any actions exceeding one’s capabilities could only lead to one outcome, playing with fire.

However, for now, the priority was to celebrate the hard-won victory. Other matters could be considered after the celebration party. Currently, the Piaomiao Sect was united and morale was high. It wasn’t the time to dampen spirits with overly authoritarian gestures. Although Ou Peng commanded respect, he wasn’t one to indulge in pedantic formalities.

In the conference hall, everyone wore smiles, from the eldest to the youngest. Initially, there was some hesitation to relax in the solemn atmosphere of the meeting hall. However, seeing even the usually serious Sect Master smiling, everyone else gradually loosened up. It was a rare occasion for such merriment, and tomorrow would likely return to seriousness, so they embraced the moment and smiled.