Chapter Six: The Aura of Racing Thunder
Ignoring the bewildered state of Song Yue, the teacher gazed at him.
“Cultivation begins with nurturing one's energy—the Confucians gather qi, the Buddhists cultivate their original mind, the demon clans awaken their spirits... All these are the initial stages of enlightenment.”
“Cultivators absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, store it in their organs, let it flow through their blood, and use this refined power to nourish their organs, meridians, and bones throughout the body.”
“This is called nurturing qi.”
“In the Confucian path, one cultivates a breath of righteous energy so vast that monsters and demons dare not approach. It greatly restrains all evil things.”
Song Yue looked at the teacher in confusion; he knew all this already. As a child, he had studied for future cultivation, and all the teacher had mentioned was basic knowledge.
The teacher continued, “Only martial artists have somewhat vague ranks. When their qi and blood can be projected outward, they are called Grandmasters.”
“But within the realm of Grandmasters, the differences are enormous!”
“You are only eighteen years old, yet you have already reached the Grandmaster level, with qi and blood radiating outward. Your fist could shatter stone and break tablets.”
Though Song Yue was still a bit lost, he nodded vigorously at these words. Yes, yes, he really was that formidable!
“But if you encounter a seasoned Grandmaster in their thirties or forties, you might not last ten rounds against them.”
That was less pleasant to hear. Why must he face one of those older Grandmasters?
By the time he reached his thirties or forties, he might well become a Martial Saint! Besides, even if he met one, he wouldn’t be afraid!
“At the Great Grandmaster level, one is nearly at the Dao. You can leap hundreds of meters and battle powerful cultivators. Against high-level energy cultivators, victory depends on who attacks faster, whose methods are more ingenious.”
Song Yue looked at the teacher, imagining him leaping hundreds of meters. If it were his teacher’s wife, it would be heroic, but for the teacher himself... it seemed a bit out of place.
The teacher looked at Song Yue, his voice calm but earnest. “That is only the path of the ordinary martial artist. You are not among them!”
Song Yue: ?
“The thunderous energy within you is not the spiritual energy of heaven and earth cultivated by practitioners, nor is it the righteous energy of the Confucians. It is a unique force belonging only to martial artists—a rare, extraordinary talent found in one among billions.”
Song Yue had no time to feel proud before the teacher poured cold water on him—
“But activating and guiding it for your own use is not easy. In fact, it is exceedingly difficult!”
“There was no hope before, so I never spoke of it, lest you become obsessed and lose your true self.”
“Recently, I found a clue in an ancient text. After some time researching it, I confirmed its validity. However, two challenges remain.”
“The first is materials. Your family is well-off, and your parents will spare no effort to support you. But some things cannot be bought with money.”
Song Yue nodded, “Just like those top-grade ingredients that can greatly enhance my strength!”
He smacked his lips and swallowed. Having just eaten and finished a round of boxing, he was already feeling hungry again.
“Materials are only one issue. I will help you find solutions. The other challenge concerns you personally,” the teacher looked at Song Yue. “To guide and activate the thunderous energy, you must endure unimaginable pain and torment. This is not an exaggeration—if things go wrong, it could be fatal.”
Song Yue’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Die from pain?”
His teacher’s wife, standing by, couldn’t bear it and spoke gently, “We don’t know exactly how painful, but according to records, if you can’t withstand it, you could indeed die from the agony.”
The teacher said, “When you guide and activate the thunderous energy, your organs will experience pain akin to being struck by lightning.”
Struck by lightning?
He had never experienced that.
But as a mischievous child, Song Yue had touched an electric switch and been shocked before. Even recalling it now made his whole body tingle.
He was not lacking in courage—martial artists never do—but he wasn’t sure he could endure such agony.
His teacher’s wife sighed, “Perhaps you should wait a bit longer…”
The teacher shook his head and looked at Song Yue. “The innate thunderous energy within you, the sooner it is guided out, the greater the benefits for your future cultivation. Not only will your martial arts reach their peak, you might even learn the Confucian methods!”
Confucian methods?
“You mean—those techniques where words become law?” Song Yue asked.
The teacher nodded, then said, “You are still young, with qi and blood condensed at the Grandmaster level. It is the most suitable age. Once you truly reach adulthood... well, your yang energy will diminish, and the thunderous energy will gradually dissipate with it.”
Song Yue scratched his head. This was a big deal, but he had always had a strong heart, unafraid of trouble and uninterested in rules, rarely acting conventionally.
Though he still couldn’t quite grasp everything, it felt as if coming to Hang City, meeting the teacher, and becoming his and his wife’s disciple was no accident, but something his parents had arranged long ago.
Still, he nodded and agreed at once. “I’ll do it!”
After all, a man aspiring to become a Martial Saint must overcome this hurdle. Otherwise, what future could he hope for?
It was like chasing a girl without saying a word to win her heart—thinking it’s beneath him. Such people might never find a girlfriend!
The teacher’s face, rarely, showed a special, gratified smile.
This little one, though not formally apprenticed, was truly his last disciple, and had not disappointed him!
Such a rare talent—if wasted, he might never see another in his lifetime.
Song Yue wanted to ask if his parents had discussed anything else with the teacher, but was impatiently dismissed.
“You’ve eaten, and I’ve told you everything you need to know. Go home and do whatever you need to; the rest is not your concern. Just wait. Your teacher’s wife and I are going for a walk—you go home on your own!”
What an unfeeling man!
Song Yue took his leave, his mind still muddled, chaotic.
Compared to this so-called thunderous energy, whether his parents had arranged for him to study under the teacher seemed less important now.
A real man always faces even social death head-on; as long as he’s not embarrassed...
He just wanted to figure out what was really going on.
He was a person who acted as soon as he thought. He took out his phone and called his mother—his father was far away on another planet and hard to reach, but his mother was accessible.
The call connected quickly. Before Song Yue could speak, Qin Qingzhu asked first, “Has the teacher spoken to you? Son, I’ve always been torn about this and really didn’t want you to take this path…”
Song Yue replied quietly, “So, when you brought me to Hang City years ago, it wasn’t just to get me into the cultivation academy?”
“No, no, that was real!” Qin Qingzhu explained, “But the innate thunderous energy in you—we were only puzzled at first and didn’t know what it was. It was the teacher who observed you and finally confirmed it, then told us.”
Qin Qingzhu sighed, “If the academy had accepted you, we’d have let you stay there. That way, you’d be a cultivator and wouldn’t have to endure such terrifying trials…”
“It’s fine, Mom, I understand. I’ve already agreed to the teacher’s plan.” Song Yue was unexpectedly calm.
He comforted his mother, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m eighteen now—already an adult. If this is a trial on my martial path, I must face it, not run from it.”
“My son, you’ve grown up.” On the other end, Qin Qingzhu sounded emotional and a little sad.
Her child had never been by her side—how could a mother not long for him?
“Hehe, that’s right. Now I’m tall, handsome, and super charming!” Song Yue joked with his mother for a while, distracting her before hanging up. Then his expression grew serious.
He knew exactly what kind of person the teacher was—never spoke lightly. If he said there was a risk of death, then it was real, not mere intimidation.
Yet, the truest emotion rising in Song Yue’s heart was not fear, but anticipation.
If he could survive this ordeal, he would have kicked open the gates of life and death!
Having faced death, what else could he not face?
On the way home, Song Yue checked his phone and found, unusually, a new message on his sparsely used social platform.
He opened it and immediately smiled. Good sister, you’re worth all the care I’ve given you!
Without hesitation, he replied with a single word—Good!