Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

"You? Spar with me?"

Fatty Fang looked stunned for a moment, then broke into a wide grin.

"Kiddo, if you want me to go easy on you for practice, just say it. You think I'd say no? Come on. I'll hold back sixty percent of my power to let you get used to the intensity."

"That's not it, Senior Brother Fang."

Chen Cheng shook his head.

"I'm not asking you to go easy on me. I'm here to spar with *you*. My Sixth Pillar of Blood Qi is complete."

"...Huh?"

Fatty Fang was utterly stunned. His brow furrowed and his mouth fell open, his eyes narrowing into thin slits.

After a long moment, he finally snapped out of it, exclaiming in amazement,

"Kiddo... From the time I recruited you into the Lower Courtyard until now... all told, it hasn't even been half a year, has it?"

"I already had Six Pillars of Blood Qi back then, and you... you were a complete novice... But now... you... *Sigh*..."

Fatty Fang trailed off, unable to continue. He let out a long sigh, his face a canvas of complex emotions.

He remembered how he, too, had been called a young prodigy when he first entered the Dragon Mountain Upper Courtyard.

But time flew by, and he had been trapped at the level of Six Pillars of Blood Qi for far, far too long. What started as his Blood Qi generating more slowly had become a full-blown bottleneck, preventing him from producing even a single wisp.

'He had even considered, more than once, that if he were to be locked at this bottleneck for the rest of his life, his best way out would be to find a nominal position within one of the Seven Great Races.'

'As for the Martial Selection, that was a dream he had to give up entirely.'

And then there was Chen Cheng. In just six short months, he had gone from a complete novice of Martial Arts to a Martial Artist of the same tier as himself, Marquis Fang Wenhao.

He could still clearly remember the day Chen Cheng first arrived at the Lower Courtyard. The boy had been so thin he was almost unrecognizable, his stomach rumbling like thunder from sheer hunger.

But now...

It was a true case of a fish leaping over the dragon gate, a meteoric rise.

More importantly, Chen Cheng was still very young—far younger than he, Marquis Fang Wenhao, had been when he was promoted to the Upper Courtyard.

'If Chen Cheng can keep this up, his future is so boundless that I don't even dare to imagine it.'

"Cheng! My good brother!"

Fatty Fang suddenly grew serious. He looked at Chen Cheng with earnest eyes and pleaded in a low voice,

"I'm begging you for one thing! When you make it big someday, don't forget to give your big brother a hand!"

"Come on, do we even need to say that?"

Chen Cheng smiled.

"As long as I have a bite to eat, there'll always be a bowl for you to wash, Senior Brother."

"That sounds great! Hey... wait. Wash a bowl? You little brat! You're asking for it!"

Cursing playfully, Fatty Fang didn't bother holding back. Instead, without any warning, he lunged straight at Chen Cheng.

Chen Cheng's reaction was lightning-fast. His right fist shot out from his waist. He had moved second, but his punch would land first. As his fist cut through the air, it created a low, muffled hum.

Fatty Fang switched from attack to defense, his left palm chopping down to slap squarely against the back of the fist.

SMACK—

The sound was as sharp as the crack of a whip.

A numbing jolt shot through Fatty Fang's palm, and his entire arm recoiled half an inch. His feet remained planted, but his eyebrow twitched.

He had assumed the punch was just a probe, but the power it carried was far greater than he'd expected.

It wasn't enough to injure him, but it was certainly enough to startle him.

"Not bad, kiddo."

With a low grunt, he shot his right fist out from his side, aiming straight for Chen Cheng's chest. The punch was fast and fierce, blasting a gust of wind toward his opponent.

Chen Cheng sidestepped, and the punch grazed past his lapels. He used the momentum to twist at the waist, slamming his left elbow horizontally toward Fatty Fang's ribs.

With no time to retract his fist, Fatty Fang dropped his shoulder to block the blow.

THUD!

The point of the elbow struck the shoulder blade.

Chen Cheng held back his Power, pulling the strike so it was just a touch.

Fatty Fang swayed, the packed snow at his feet exploding outward. He gritted his teeth and, instead of retreating, charged forward, ramming his body into Chen Cheng.

Chen Cheng met the charge with both palms, bracing them against Fatty Fang's shoulders. The two forces collided. Chen Cheng's feet slid back half a foot in the snow, but Fatty Fang's forward momentum was stopped cold.

Fatty Fang leaned his upper body back, then slammed forward again, heaving his shoulders up. Chen Cheng yielded to the force, drifting back five feet. He tapped the snow with his toes and shot forward again. His right leg swept out from the side, kicking up a spray of powder as it aimed for Fatty Fang's lower body.

With no time to dodge, Fatty Fang lowered his center of gravity and took the hit.

THWACK!

The kick connected with his calf. His body lurched to one side, and he just barely managed to stay on his feet, his boot carving a deep trench in the snow.

If Chen Cheng hadn't held back his Power, Fatty Fang would have been knocked down.

He immediately retaliated with a palm strike aimed at Chen Cheng's shoulder.

Chen Cheng turned, and the edge of the palm strike grazed past his shoulder, missing by a hair's breadth.

While Fatty Fang was still off-balance, Chen Cheng drove his left knee up toward his abdomen.

Fatty Fang pushed down with both hands to block the knee strike, but the impact still forced him back two steps. His heels sank into the ground, kicking up two puffs of snow.

The two separated, putting distance between them once more.

"No more, no more!"

Fatty Fang was panting heavily, his expression a mixture of surprise and profound admiration.

"Kiddo, you're just too fast. Not only are your reactions quick, but your movements are even quicker. Your counters are precise and efficient... I can't keep up at all. I couldn't get a single advantage; all I did was take a beating..."

"Should I hold back a bit more, then?" Chen Cheng asked.

"Get outta here. I'm not sparring with you anymore..."

Fatty Fang waved his hands dismissively.

"I'll just wait until Cao Zhao is free. Sparring with him is more fun."

"You damn fatty, itching for a beating again?"

The wooden door to the back courtyard was pushed open.

Cao Zhao walked out, dressed in the standard-issue Half Armor of the Captain's Mansion.

His armor bore the clear marks of a fight—bloodstains, dirt, and scrapes. He clearly hadn't been idle last night.

He didn't seem to have any serious injuries, which was an excellent outcome considering the number of Blood Robes that had appeared the previous night.

"Junior Brother Chen, you're here too?"

Cao Zhao walked over with a cheerful laugh.

"Your timing is perfect. My grandfather just told me to go to your house to talk to you about the Young Qilin Association."