Chapter 175: A Month Of Preparation
The next month passed in relative peace—something that, in the case of Han Yu, was more alarming than any ambush.
Gone were the days of laundry room brawls, mistaken wise immortals, and exploding pill experiments. No socks floated from disciple chambers. No elders stared suspiciously at him. No alchemists stalked him with vials of bubbling horror. Han Yu, much to everyone’s surprise, behaved.
Mostly.
Fatty Kui had returned to seclusion under his master, groaning about "boulder squats" and "spiritual crunches" as he was dragged away by a grinning elder. The next time Han Yu saw him, Kui promised, he would be a new man—taller (questionable), leaner (highly doubtful), and capable of surviving at least fifty falling rocks per day (maybe).
That left Han Yu to his own devices, and for once, his devices were serious cultivation.
Each morning, he sat cross-legged in his courtyard, breathing in the spiritual energy around him, slowly and steadily cycling it through his meridians. No shortcuts. No pill explosions. No spiritual squirrels.
Just honest, straightforward qi refinement.
He practiced diligently, avoiding mischief as if his life depended on it. Mostly because it probably did—after the last few incident and kitchen raids, one more mishap and the elders might just "accidentally" assign him to clean dung pits in the beast stables.
Instead, Han Yu put his focus into martial techniques.
His Ironwood Stance, once a laughable posture he only used to confuse enemies, was finally taking shape. With the infusion of qi, the stance reinforced his legs and spine, grounding him like an ancient oak. His defense was noticeably better—he could now block training strikes from a fellow disciple without flying across the courtyard like a tossed cabbage.
The improvement wasn’t dramatic, but it was consistent.