The First Step into Martial Arts Chapter One: Descending the Mountain

Eight years later.

“Grandpa, Grandpa, come quickly! I caught a little rabbit in the yard!” A cheerful child ran up, hopping excitedly before his grandfather.

He was the same boy Li Baicao had found beneath the parasol tree years ago, and in the blink of an eye, he’d grown so much. Back then, Li Baicao had used treasured medicinal herbs and his own exceptional medical skills to save the child’s life. Over the past eight years, Li Baicao had cared for Li Qiutong’s health with tireless dedication, ensuring that the boy, whose body had been chilled from birth, could grow up strong and healthy.

Li Baicao smiled warmly, patting the child’s head. “Qiutong, let the little rabbit go. Gather your things—we’ll head down to the city soon to sell some herbs and buy a few necessities.”

“Okay, Grandpa! I’ll go fetch the medicine I ground earlier.” The little one bounded back into the house.

For Li Qiutong, these eight years had been spent largely on the mountain with his grandfather, befriending blue skies and white clouds, living amidst green grasses and trees, carefree and content. Yet the city held its own allure—so many interesting things, delicious treats, and beautiful young ladies.

Soon, grandfather and grandson had packed their wares and set off.

The nearest city to Qiuming Mountain was Qiuming City, situated at the border between the continent’s two great economic powers, Song Kingdom and Tian Kingdom. Its strategic location made it a thriving center of commerce, with bustling markets and a constant flow of people. It was considered one of Song Kingdom’s vital trading hubs.

After a morning’s journey, the pair finally reached the city gates.

Once inside, they made their way through familiar streets to the marketplace, found their usual stall, set out their medicinal herbs, and began their day of business.

“Well, if it isn’t Old Li! And you’ve brought Qiutong along to sell herbs again—I haven’t seen you for ages. Come here, Qiutong, let Auntie hold you. Have you grown taller?” called out a friendly woman from across the vegetable stand.

“Auntie, I’ve grown a lot—up to Grandpa’s shoulder now!” The boy ran over, chatting away, snatching a carrot to munch on with one hand, while measuring his height with the other.

The butcher nearby tossed aside his cleaver and called out, “Qiutong’s still growing! How can a boy survive on just vegetables? Old Li, I’ll save some meat for you tonight—take it home and let the boy build up his strength.”

“My vegetables are more nutritious! Qiutong should eat more greens,” retorted the auntie, unwilling to be outdone.

Sighing at their bickering, the boy scampered back to his grandfather’s side.

Qiutong was used to such scenes, as was everyone in the marketplace. The child had grown up under the watchful eyes of the entire street; everyone treated the lively, adorable boy as if he were their own.

Amid the banter, the market gradually grew busier, each stallholder attending to their customers.

“Sir, how much are your medicines?” asked a girl of about twelve, gazing at the basket of herbs.

“Two coins for a portion of silverweed powder, three for bitterroot, four for wound salve…” Old Li patiently explained each item, but Qiutong, confronted with such a pretty young lady, blushed furiously and stood tongue-tied at his side. When she smiled at him, the boy was so flustered and excited that he could hardly speak a word.

One could hardly blame him—after all, living atop a mountain, he’d scarcely seen any beautiful girls.

After listening to the explanation, the girl’s bright eyes widened. “I’ve heard there’s a medicine in Song Kingdom that can cure the Cold Bone Syndrome. Do you know of it, sir?” Her gaze was piercing—wise beyond her years, unlike any child her age. Qiutong, beside her, looked utterly befuddled.

Old Li shook his head gravely. “Cold Bone Syndrome is said to be an incurable affliction. Once contracted, there’s nothing to do but wait for death. How could an old country doctor like me know any cure? You’d best seek out a greater healer, child.”

He spoke the truth. Cold Bone Syndrome was rumored to have originated in the north—a disease that made every bone in the body feel as cold as ice, keeping the patient’s skin temperature below normal, torturing them with constant chill and pain. It tormented both body and spirit, and inevitably led to death within a month. No cure had ever been found.

But the girl was not ready to give up. “It’s said that the Sage of Medicine once cured dozens of Cold Bone patients at Zhenbei Pass. How can you call it incurable?”

Old Li smiled gently. “The Sage of Medicine and the Sage of Healing are legendary figures among physicians. How could a country doctor like me possess skills on par with theirs? You’d best seek your answers elsewhere.”

The girl regarded him in silence, sighed, and was about to leave when a commotion erupted nearby.

A furious voice rang out, “It’s your honor to sell meat to a true martial artist like me, and you still dare charge me money?”

A burly man seized the butcher with his massive hand and flung him three or four meters, sending him crashing into a wall before he finally came to a stop. The butcher lay on the ground clutching his injury, too frightened even to look up. Though a crowd had gathered, not a soul dared speak.

On the Eastern Martial Continent, martial artists had always held absolute status. They trained their bodies with martial essence, striving all their lives toward the highest martial path. Whether dueling in the open or fighting on the battlefield, martial artists were ever-present.

To ordinary people, martial artists possessed overwhelming strength. No commoner dared defy them, for even an average martial artist could easily kill several grown men and bear little consequence for it, let alone the masters and grandmasters of the martial world. Naturally, many commoners yearned to take up the martial path, but talent was rare, and the mysteries of martial arts were not easily learned—each school’s skills were closely guarded.

Now, because of a dispute over price, the butcher had angered a martial artist. At best, he’d suffer a beating; at worst, he might lose his life. The bystanders could only fume in silence, none daring to challenge the martial artist—save, perhaps, for a child too young to understand the consequences.

“Let go of Uncle! How could you be so unreasonable? His meat is already very cheap!” An eight-year-old boy ran up and spread his arms wide, using his small body to block the burly man. Qiutong didn’t know what martial artists were capable of; he only knew that the uncle who often gave him meat had been hurt, and he wanted to protect him—nothing more.

The martial artist looked down at Li Qiutong as if he were a toy, laughing boisterously. “A calf unafraid of the tiger, eh? Let me show you what a martial artist can do.” He raised his fist.

“Please, sir, have mercy! He’s just a child—he doesn’t understand. Take whatever medicine you want from my stall, but spare the boy.” Old Li hurried over, scooped Qiutong into his arms, and shielded him, apologizing profusely to the martial artist.

“I don’t care for your medicine. I’ll beat you both to teach you a lesson!” Some martial artists saw themselves as superior beings and never regarded common folk as people. This brute was clearly one of them.

“The duty of martial artists is to protect the people, the nation, and the weak. That is the true purpose of the martial path. By bullying the common folk and showing no compassion, how can you face your own master? Stop now, and there may yet be a way back for you.”

A clear, steady voice rang out. The girl who had been inquiring about medicine stepped calmly from the crowd, her clear eyes fixed on the furious martial artist without the slightest trace of fear.