Chapter Fifty-One: Refined Elegance

As the internal energy broke through the barrier, it surged vividly along the meridians, flowing into the lungs, spleen, kidneys, liver, and heart. With every visceral organ it touched, the energy gathered a trace of shimmering light before finally settling into the dantian.

Nourished by this internal force, the dantian seemed to expand. A surge of joy welled up in Mo Shan; this, he realized, must be the essence of internal cultivation.

Martial arts are divided into internal mental methods and external techniques—the former tempering the breath, the latter honing the sinews, bones, and skin. Since ancient times, people have regarded internal cultivation as more promising than external training. Internal arts rely on the refinement of 'Qi,' nurturing the body and extending one's lifespan, providing profound benefits to the internal organs.

External martial arts, by contrast, are largely based on physical hardness—withstanding blows and lifting weights far beyond natural limits to achieve a robust physique. Yet, those who pursue such paths rarely reach old age. The hidden injuries sustained in combat are difficult to heal, and as the blood and energy decline in later years, these old wounds resurface, bringing endless suffering. This is the origin of the saying that a broken bone takes a hundred days to heal.

Most people, unable to endure the agony of external training, turn to internal arts, which appear easier on the surface. However, internal cultivation requires a deep understanding of the eight extraordinary meridians and the countless acupuncture points across the body. Without a master’s guidance, it is perilously easy to deviate from the correct path, leading to qi deviation and madness.

But Mo Shan had been feeling his way forward step by step. As long as his intuition told him he could grow stronger, he would fight for it, striving to ascend against the current.

The internal energy meandered through his meridians like a clear spring, soothing his organs. The tearing sensation in his vitals slowly faded, and his mind grew remarkably lucid. It was true, then, what the world said about cultivation extending life. After circulating the energy through three cycles, the exhaustion that usually required sleep to resolve began to vanish.

A fierce flame burned in Mo Shan’s eyes—a sensation he had never known before.

He stepped lightly upon the ground, the sound of the wind whispering in his ears as he watched the drifting clouds. His resolve was set.

Time slipped away unnoticed. Mo Shan lost track of how many steps he had taken, only knowing that his internal energy had completed ten cycles when a mountain gate finally appeared before him.

"Wudang Sect!" Mo Shan felt a surge of joy, his pace quickening.

The long climb had stirred a touch of restlessness within him, a feeling unrelated to his strength or state of mind. He stood still, motionless as a stone statue, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, he furrowed his brow. The world had become a hazy blur, as if countless moths were fluttering through the vast mountain valleys; silently and imperceptibly, snow had begun to fall.

A snowflake landed on his head, and as if shaken from his reverie, he stirred. A figure was walking toward him.

It was a youth, graceful and refined as a gentle breeze, yet dressed in black that stood out starkly against the white snow. The only flaw was that his left sleeve hung empty, as if he possessed only one arm.

*Why is this lad running over here now?* Mo Shan wondered. It was snowing on Mount Wudang today, and the cold was biting. For this child to come up alone, he must be extraordinary, yet the recruitment assembly had already ended. Would they even accept him now?

"The Wudang Sect is truly magnificent!" Mo Shan murmured. He had longed for this sight since the base of the mountain, and now that he had arrived, his joy could no longer be contained.

No sooner had he spoken than the world began to spin around him. A dull ache throbbed in his left arm, his vision went black, and he collapsed face-first into the snow.