Chapter Eleven: Body-Guarding Energy

In the most luxurious nightclub of Hangzhou, Drunken Dreamland, Zhang Zixing was entertaining a group of young men and women, drinking together. He was all smiles, showing great respect and courtesy toward them, even displaying a hint of deference and humility. The others, too, had shed the arrogance and aloofness of daylight, clinking glasses with Zhang Zixing and appearing to enjoy themselves immensely.

With a pleasant smile, Zhang Zixing introduced the famous liquors of Earth: “Among red wines made from grapes, pinot noir is the most palatable; as for rice wines, some high-end sake from the Island Nation are quite good; but I still prefer whiskies distilled from wheat. Our native Huaxia spirits are too strong—delicious, yes, but not suited for heavy drinking.”

A tall, voluptuous woman took a small sip of the baijiu in her glass, frowned slightly, and declared, “This is terrible!”

Beside her, a handsome man of about twenty-five or six chuckled. “Before I came, I learned something of Earth’s culture, including its drinking customs. This liquor is called baijiu—it's generally a man’s drink. Ladies like you are better off with wine.”

The woman shot him a sidelong glance. “You look down on women?”

With that, she raised her hand and downed half a glass of baijiu in one go. Suddenly her face flushed crimson, and she stood up, bending over and coughing loudly.

“Sister Huan, that’s impressive!”

“Awesome!”

“We wouldn’t dare drink like that!”

The others in the private room cheered and jeered in amusement.

The woman coughed for a long while, eyes brimming with tears, then glared fiercely at her companions before turning to Zhang Zixing. “That man is not to be underestimated. I advise you not to make an enemy of him.”

“Oh?” Zhang Zixing arched his brow with a smile. “What, Sister Huan, do you think highly of him?”

The voluptuous woman called Sister Huan waved her hand dismissively. “Earth men are nothing to me, but that man’s talent in martial arts is truly exceptional. You may not see it now, but once he finds the right path, nothing will stand in the way of his rise.”

A petite, sweet-looking girl chimed in, “If this were our planet, someone like him would already have entered the Grandmaster realm!”

“Hey, whose side are you two on? Are you speaking up for him just because he's good-looking? We're on Zhang Zixing's side!” protested a fair-skinned, blond young man, clearly dissatisfied.

Sister Huan shot him a glance and said coolly, “You used your full strength against him today, didn’t you? Yet it barely affected him. That must have surprised you.”

The blond youth snorted, sneering, “He’s just a brute. I didn’t even use all my strength—I never intended to kill him…”

Sister Huan shook her head and sighed, “You people are used to being domineering, too unruly. Beware, or it will come back to bite you.”

At this, Zhang Zixing smiled from the side. “Sister Huan, you worry too much. This is Earth. I’ve looked into that man—his family just does business, nothing more. He does seem to have some connection to the Scholar, but that’s it. The Scholar is a world-renowned Confucian, a great academic, but as for other matters…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but there was still a trace of disdain in his tone. In truth, from a young age he'd heard of the Scholar from his parents, but the elders’ reverence always left him unimpressed.

This was the interstellar era—what use was a mere Confucian scholar from Earth?

As the saying goes, “A scholar’s rebellion never succeeds.” That’s exactly the type.

People like the Scholar, aside from academic pursuits, could they fight, kill, or soar through the heavens like cultivators? Could they build a curvature engine to roam the stars?

Not at all!

“Forget it, I’ll leave you to your own devices. But if one day he comes knocking, I hope you’ll make it clear that I, and Xiao Mo, had nothing to do with it.”

Sister Huan, seemingly addicted to baijiu, poured herself another half glass from the white porcelain bottle and enthusiastically persuaded the sweet girl, Xiao Mo, to join her.

The girl couldn’t resist the temptation, took a sip, and immediately spat it out, tears streaming down her face as she cried that it tasted awful.

As the atmosphere in the room grew ever livelier, Zhang Zixing and the blond youth huddled together, discussing something in low voices.

As for someone like Song Yue, Zhang Zixing didn’t pay him any mind. A young master? Please—who here isn’t one? If not for concerns about his status, he was certain he could crush him easily.

So—was the matter over, or had it just begun?

Let’s wait and see!

If he dares come seeking trouble, then he’ll learn just how dangerous rashness can be.

…

At the Scholar’s home.

The Mistress was in a foul mood.

Song Yue, injured?

The Scholar’s face was inscrutable, but he too seemed displeased.

“Scholar, Mistress, don’t worry. I just got caught off guard; the other side resorted to underhanded tricks when they couldn’t beat me,” Song Yue tried to reassure his elders. “But I’m afraid this kind of thing will only happen more often in the future, so, Scholar… could you help me out? Maybe give me a talisman or something?”

He couldn’t possibly accept the peace amulet from Wenrou. No matter how thick-skinned he was, he couldn’t take it.

For one, that was a girl’s personal token. For another, what would it mean if he took Wenrou’s gift? No matter how close, there must be boundaries between friends.

But with the Scholar, all such concerns went out the window. The Scholar was used to his shamelessness by now anyway.

“A talisman?” The Scholar glanced at him. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh, don’t be so heartless, Scholar.” Song Yue turned to the Mistress. “Mistress, he’s ignoring me!”

The Mistress thought for a moment. “I do have a talisman on me…”

“Never mind, never mind…” Song Yue hurriedly waved his hands. If he wouldn’t take Wenrou’s, he certainly couldn’t take the Mistress’s.

The Scholar regarded Song Yue and said seriously, “Relying on external objects is a minor path, especially since you practice martial arts. If you grow used to depending on such things, what will you do when you face someone truly powerful?”

Song Yue looked troubled. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

The Scholar replied, “Originally, there were things I meant to teach you after your internal Thunderforce was awakened, but seeing the situation now, I’ll pass on some of it ahead of time. Otherwise, if you keep challenging dojos, you’re bound to run into the vindictive sort who’ll try to ambush you.”

Song Yue was slightly taken aback. “There’s really a solution?”

The Scholar rose, retrieved a thin handwritten manuscript from the study, only a dozen pages or so, and tossed it to Song Yue. “This is a body-protecting aura technique I devised, based on the experience of my predecessors.”

Song Yue took it, opened it, and saw it was written in the Scholar’s elegant hand, accompanied by exquisite illustrations. He began to study the text and examine the drawings closely.

The Scholar was a master of both calligraphy and painting, a true contemporary luminary. Not to mention, this illustrated manuscript alone, if brought to auction, would fetch several million at least.

And that’s while the Scholar is still alive… ahem, touch wood!

The Scholar explained from the side, “This body-protecting aura is activated by channeling your vital energy. Once engaged, it forms an invisible barrier around you. At first, it can block psychic attacks from peers or even those a bit stronger than you. At advanced stages, it can block direct attacks—blades and axes alike cannot touch you.”

“The drawback is that this technique consumes a great deal of your energy and cannot be maintained for long.”

Even so, Song Yue was ecstatic. He silently grumbled at the Scholar’s stinginess—such a powerful technique, and he’d only just revealed it now. If he’d had it sooner, would he have suffered today?

The Scholar shot him a glance and said coolly, “On the path of cultivation, suffering a few setbacks isn’t a bad thing. It’s those who never suffer who are truly in danger; their first setback might be irreparable.”

The Mistress, less fond of the Scholar’s lectures, interjected, “Since you need to rest these next few days, it’s a good time to practice this aura. But the Scholar’s right—it’ll drain your energy. You’ll see once you try.”

Taking leave of the Scholar and Mistress, Song Yue rushed home, eager to begin learning the aura technique.

The Scholar, honestly, was too lazy—even the technique had no grand name. Something like “Black Tortoise Golden Armor Technique” or “Immovable Diamond Body of the Shaking Earth”—that would sound imposing! The name should be long and commanding!

Of course, sometimes short names worked too, like “Emperor”—one character sufficed.

Song Yue’s shoulder injury wasn’t serious. With Sister Wang’s herbal poultice and the Scholar’s recent acupuncture, he could already move it a bit. Given his current metabolism, he’d be fully healed in three days at most.

Practicing the aura didn’t require movement, but it did demand the mobilization of vital energy, so it still affected his injured shoulder somewhat.

Mainly, it hurt.

A deep, piercing pain!

The Scholar hadn’t even warned him; the Mistress had even suggested this was a good time to practice while recuperating.

Song Yue understood—this was laying the groundwork for awakening the Thunderforce within him. If he couldn’t even endure this pain, he had no business dreaming of greater power.

So, even as cold sweat poured down from the agony, he sat silently in his room, training without a word.

The Scholar’s teachings were never abstruse; rather, they were always accessible. No matter how complex, he could simplify anything. That was what Song Yue admired most about him.

Unlike certain people who always complicated the simplest matters.

Especially for martial artists, as the saying goes: “A thousand books may be false, a single word may be true!”

The Scholar had distilled the wisdom of the ancients and refined it, crafting this aura technique as if tailor-made for Song Yue.

He mastered it quickly.

Gritting his teeth, bearing the pain, he activated the technique and immediately felt his vital energy draining rapidly. At the same time, he sensed an invisible layer of power enveloping his body!

Wasn’t this just like a magical shield in a game?!!

What a marvel!

Song Yue was overjoyed.