ARK SPIRIT

That night, after Tieu Lan finished cleaning up and returned to the small cabin at the front of the boat to rest early, Hao Nhien went back to his own room.

He closed the door.

The boat was unusually quiet. Outside, there was only the soft sound of river water brushing against the wooden hull, the wind slipping through the cracks, and the distant call of insects from the riverbank.

Hao Nhien sat cross-legged on the bed, his hands resting lightly on his knees, his eyes half closed.

A full day of fist practice had left his entire body aching. His shoulders, back, thighs, and calves all felt heavy and tight.

But this was no longer the weakness of the previous days.

It felt like a field that had just been turned over.

Rough.

Sore.

But opened, waiting for water to seep into the soil.

Hao Nhien knew this was a good time for breathing cultivation.

During the day, the Iron Body Fist had pushed his body close to its limit. The waterfall had then forced his muscles, breathing, and true qi to work together under constant pressure. Even now, every section of his meridians seemed to retain the aftereffects of that training.

If he knew when to stop, this could become an opportunity.

If he became greedy, it would turn into injury.

Hao Nhien drew in a slow breath.

Then began.

Following the oral formula of the Body-Soul Fist Art, he moved his awareness through the seven qi-entry points one by one.

Within only a few cycles, he noticed the difference.

The previous night, spiritual qi had lingered outside him like a thin mist hesitant to cross the threshold. He had needed to settle deeply and wait for a long time before he could sense faint traces of cool energy entering his body.

Tonight, however, the response came much more quickly.

Not violently.

Not chaotically.

It simply entered more easily.

The areas that had endured the most strain during the day reacted most clearly.

His left shoulder trembled faintly.

His legs grew warm and numb.

The dull ache in his back gradually softened.

In his lower abdomen, the familiar point of warmth appeared much faster. Traces of spiritual qi were retained by his body, slowly settling and adding themselves to the true qi already there.

Hao Nhien did not feel pleased.

He did not urge it forward.

He simply observed.

Spiritual qi entered more easily.

His true qi was steadier.

But his meridians still had limits.

Before long, several places began to feel tight, like small bowls nearing the brim.

This seventeen-year-old body was still too weak.

Its foundation was too thin.

Even after a full day of training, even with spiritual qi entering more easily, it still could not hold too much at once.

By reason alone, he should have stopped.

But Hao Nhien did not end the session immediately.

He wanted to test one more step.

Not to force a breakthrough.

Only to find where the true limit of his meridians lay.

He slowly guided the true qi back toward his lower abdomen, then opened his eyes.

It was already late. Thin moonlight slipped through the window and cast a pale streak across the wooden floor.

Hao Nhien stood, opened the door, and stepped onto the deck.

The night wind over the Thanh Van River was colder than he expected.

He removed his outer robe, leaving only the thin inner layer, then walked to the edge of the boat.

The river below was dark. Moonlight shattered into countless silver fragments across the rippling surface.

Hao Nhien drew in a deep breath.

Then jumped.

Cold water swallowed him at once.

His entire body contracted for an instant, but his breathing remained steady.

Hao Nhien kicked downward and sank deeper, until the current around him was strong enough to create clear resistance against his body.

Beneath the surface, every sound became deep and distant.

Only his heartbeat remained.

The pressure of the water surrounding him.

And the slow circulation of true qi within.

Hao Nhien began practicing his fist art.

During the day, the waterfall had pressed down on him with sheer weight.

At night, the river pulled at him from every direction, dragging each movement away from its proper path.

Whenever he raised an arm, turned his hips, or shifted his feet, his body had to work harder just to maintain its center.

His true qi also moved more clearly through the weaker sections of his meridians.

Pressure from outside.

True qi from within.

That was exactly what he wanted to test.

Not to break the meridians.

Not to force them wider.

Only to use them under pressure.

To make them endure.

Then adapt.

One punch.

Two.

Three.

His lungs began to burn from lack of air.

Hao Nhien stopped immediately.

He surfaced, grabbed the side of the boat, and drew several hard breaths until his rhythm gradually steadied.

Then, still standing in the cold river, Hao Nhien closed his eyes and began breathing cultivation.

This time, his body responded much more clearly.

After enduring the resistance of the current, his muscles and meridians seemed to open slightly. Spiritual qi seeped inward, was retained, and slowly merged into the true qi already circulating through him.

Tight.

But not breaking.

Painful.

But not chaotic.

Several meridians that had once felt sluggish now seemed as though a rough layer had been worn away.

True qi still caused a sharp ache whenever it passed through them.

But warmth followed afterward.

Very little.

But it was working.

Hao Nhien rested long enough, then sank beneath the water a second time.

This time, he no longer tried to resist every pull of the current.

When the water dragged his body off line, he yielded slightly, preserved his center, and only then released force.

The difference was immediate.

His movements became steadier.

Less strength was wasted.

Sometimes, he had to borrow the current.

Sometimes, he had to avoid force before releasing force of his own.

Hao Nhien did not fully understand the principle yet.

But it felt as though a small door had opened.

After the second round, he surfaced again and spent a long time catching his breath.

The warm point in his lower abdomen was clearer now.

His true qi was also fuller than it had been the night before.

For a brief moment, Hao Nhien sensed something like a faint barrier within his body.

The second layer of Qi Condensation.

Very close.

But not enough.

Hao Nhien did not force it.

He simply remembered the sensation.

Then he tried one final round.

The third attempt was much shorter.

His arms had grown heavy, his legs were cold and numb, and his lungs burned.

More importantly, the true qi within his meridians had begun to lose its stability.

Hao Nhien stopped immediately.

He had reached his limit.

If he continued, the damage might outweigh anything he gained.

He surfaced, gripped the side of the boat, and spent a long time catching his breath.

The dark river shifted softly around him.

The night wind chilled his skin until it went numb.

But the warmth in his lower abdomen had become more persistent than before.

His true qi circulated more clearly.

Several meridians also seemed better able to endure the flow.

He had still not broken through.

But Hao Nhien was not disappointed.

A house raised too quickly on soft ground would only become easier to collapse the higher it grew.

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This body had always been weak.

Its meridians had always been sluggish.

If he focused only on breaking through, being able to absorb more spiritual qi might not necessarily be a good thing.

He needed a body capable of enduring a long road.

He needed meridians sturdy enough to carry more true qi.

He needed every step forward to be not only fast but stable.

Hao Nhien slowly climbed back onto the deck.

He was soaked from head to toe.

He pulled his outer robe around himself and sat beside the rail, regulating his breathing for a while longer.

There had been no breakthrough.

No miracle.

But he knew his meridians could endure a little more than before.

If there was no miracle, then he would lay down the stones himself, one by one.

Hao Nhien lifted his head and looked at the thin moon overhead.

”Again tomorrow.”

His voice was quiet.

Then he returned to the cabin.

The next three days passed in an almost fixed rhythm.

In the mornings, Hao Nhien practiced the Iron Body Fist on the white sand.

In the afternoons, he stood beneath the waterfall, using the pressure of the water to correct every flaw in his movements.

At night, if his body could still endure it, he entered the cold Thanh Van River to train beneath the surface, then returned to the boat to practice breathing cultivation and stabilize his true qi and meridians.

Every day was the same.

There were no dramatic leaps.

Only small changes.

His stance became steadier.

His breathing grew deeper.

His true qi scattered less easily.

His meridians gradually became more accustomed to pressure.

Tieu Lan also grew used to the rhythm.

Each morning, she prepared food, water, and dry cloths. While Hao Nhien practiced, she stayed near the pool or searched for medicinal herbs along the edge of the forest.

When he stood beneath the waterfall, she no longer called out repeatedly as she had on the first day.

She only looked up from time to time.

At night, back on the boat, she cooked porridge, prepared medicinal water, and quietly placed everything where he could reach it.

Several times, Hao Nhien opened his eyes after regulating his breathing and found her asleep at the small table, still holding the cloth she had meant to use to apply medicine to him.

He watched her for a while.

He did not wake her.

Nor did he say thank you.

Some kindnesses became lighter if spoken of too often.

By the third night, Hao Nhien realized that his body had reached a new limit.

Not the limit of muscle strength.

The limit of how much true qi his meridians could absorb and carry.

After several days of fist practice, waterfall training, river training, and breathing cultivation, the sluggish meridians within him had opened slightly further.

His true qi no longer moved as unevenly as before.

The warm point in his lower abdomen had also become more stable.

But the farther he progressed, the more clearly he could feel the places that remained blocked.

And the strongest reaction came from the point between his brows.

Every time Hao Nhien practiced breathing cultivation, that area trembled faintly.

At first, it had been no more than a small ripple.

But over the past few days—especially after training in the cold river and then guiding qi afterward—the sensation had grown increasingly clear.

The flow of qi from either side of his nose seemed to converge toward the center of his brow.

But the moment it reached that point, it was blocked.

Then pushed back downward.

Not violently.

But persistently.

Like water gathering before a narrow crack in stone.

Hao Nhien did not know whether his judgment was entirely correct.

He was still only a cultivator at the first layer of Qi Condensation.

He had no master beside him.

All he possessed were the fragmented memories of the previous Quan Hao Nhien, a few oral teachings left by Quan Bach, three years of observing the breath in his old world, and the very real responses of this body.

But at the very least, he trusted what he had observed repeatedly.

The point between his brows was a knot.

Or perhaps a door.

It might also be the easiest place to injure.

If he wanted to pass through it, force alone would not be enough.

Outside, the Thanh Van River continued to flow.

It made Hao Nhien think of water.

Water did not wear through stone by striking harder.

It wore through stone because it never stopped.

The next day, Hao Nhien did not immediately try to touch the obstruction at the point between his brows.

He practiced his fist art as usual.

He still stood beneath the waterfall.

He still practiced breathing cultivation after returning to the boat.

There was only one difference.

Whenever his true qi circulated up toward the bridge of his nose, he stopped his intent before it reached the point between his brows.

He did not try to break through.

He did not probe any deeper.

He only observed.

After several such attempts, Hao Nhien’s impression became clearer.

The obstruction was not completely sealed.

Whenever true qi gathered there, it still trembled faintly, as though a narrow opening truly existed somewhere within.

The current flow of qi simply was not stable enough for him to attempt passing through it safely.

Only in the afternoon did Hao Nhien finally make his decision.

Tieu Lan was sitting at the front of the boat, bent over several bundles of medicinal herbs she had just gathered, when she heard him call.

”Tieu Lan.”

She looked up.

”Young Master?”

Hao Nhien walked over.

”Do you still have the medicinal liquid you mentioned before—the one that can soothe the meridians?”

Tieu Lan’s hands paused.

She studied him for a moment before nodding.

”I do. But not much.”

Her expression immediately became wary.

”Young Master wants to use it tonight?”

”Mm.”

Tieu Lan fell silent for a moment.

”You want to try breaking through?”

Hao Nhien did not deny it.

”I want to try opening one knot.”

Tieu Lan pressed her lips together.

She clearly wanted to advise him against it, but after watching Hao Nhien train for the past several days, she also understood that if he had said this much, then he had already thought it through.

In the end, she simply lowered her head, reached into the basket beside her, and took out a small porcelain bottle.

”I made this with Clearheart Grass and Mystic Spirit Flower as the main herbs, then added a little Warm-Bone Root.”

She placed the bottle in his hand.

”It isn’t a pill. Just a medicinal liquid for external use. If circulating qi too much makes your forehead, chest, or wrists feel hot and painful, applying this should help a little.”

Hao Nhien looked at the porcelain bottle in his hand.

”Can it protect the meridians?”

Tieu Lan shook her head.

”Not to that extent.”

She answered honestly.

”It can only ease the pain and keep the muscles from tightening too much. If the meridians are truly injured, this can’t heal them.”

Hao Nhien nodded slightly.

That was enough.

He had never intended to rely on medicine to open the obstruction.

Tieu Lan watched him for another moment.

”Young Master.”

”Mm?”

She continued looking at him.

”If it hurts too much, you have to stop.”

”I know.”

”Don’t force it.”

Hao Nhien looked down at the porcelain bottle in his hand.

This time, he did not answer immediately.

After a moment, he said quietly,

”Mm.”

Tonight, he would try to open that door.