Chapter 112: Xiang'er’s Devil Training

In the courtyard of the old house, the snow lay in disarray. The crystal-clear snow reflected the moonlight, like a red marsh in late autumn or early winter.

After Ning Changjiu changed into clean new clothes, he and Zhao Xiang'er stood several yards apart. Both had removed their swords, intending to fight only with their fists and feet.

Ning Xiaoling moved a stool and sat under the eaves of the courtyard, watching over their red umbrella and weapons. She rubbed her hands, clasping them together in front of her chest. Her disappointment at not being able to watch them cultivate together vanished as they took their tense stances, replaced by intense anticipation.

Ning Changjiu cupped his fists and said, "Miss Zhao, there's no need to hold back."

Zhao Xiang'er stretched her muscles and bones. Hearing his words, she couldn't help but smile, "Don't worry."

I've wanted to hit you for a long time.

Ning Changjiu took a deep breath, his eyes fixed intently on Zhao Xiang'er's movements. He recalled her fighting style from when she killed the butcher, slew the bone demon, and fought Lady Bai, mentally preparing defensive maneuvers.

At that moment, with a serious expression, he had no idea that his decision would mark the beginning of a month-long nightmare.

At one moment, Ning Changjiu's pupils suddenly constricted. The crisp sound of bone cracking echoed in his ears, and in his field of vision, Zhao Xiang'er had vanished.

She did not suppress her cultivation level. The moment her body moved, spiritual energy instantly filled her entire being. Even the tips of her hair surged with faint threads of lightning. The instant her body connected, her figure shot out like a projectile. Her loose white dress instantly clung to her front, her sleeves fluttering behind her, and her wild long hair resembled a dark streak of lightning. Simultaneously, she drew her left fist to her waist and sent her right fist in a straightforward strike towards his face.

Ning Changjiu initially intended to parry with a side palm, first deflecting the force with a 'rolling grass' technique, then seizing both her hands. But the moment his palm touched Zhao Xiang'er's arm, the spiritual energy erupting from her body made his palm tingle. As Zhao Xiang'er's hands were about to meet his, she suddenly changed tactics. With a turn of her shoulder and arm, a twist of her waist, her tensed left foot shot out instantly, kicking up the white snow and aiming directly for Ning Changjiu's waist.

Ning Changjiu had anticipated this, but Zhao Xiang'er's retrieving punch pulled his arm forward, causing his body to lean with it. As Zhao Xiang'er swept her leg across, he only had time to retreat half a step and extend his arm to block, intending to shake off her force before seizing her ankle.

Upon impact, Ning Changjiu's arm felt a pain almost like a bone crack. That kick, grazing his arm, struck his waist, sending him flying backward several steps. Zhao Xiang'er, seizing the advantage, continued without pause, landing another kick to his chest. Ning Changjiu crossed his arms to block but was squarely struck in the chest, forcing him to retreat further.

Before he could recover his breath, Zhao Xiang'er's fist arrived again. This punch didn't target his face but instead, she circled slightly, delivering a side punch to his waist. After barely blocking two punches, Ning Changjiu's movements slowed. Zhao Xiang'er seized the opportunity, grasping his arm. The muscles and bones in her forearm twisted like coiling threads, power exploding instantly. As she twisted and pressed Ning Changjiu's arm, her body had already circled behind him, pressing his hand onto his back, then striking his nape with a 'finger-sword' technique.

In just a few exchanges, Zhao Xiang'er decisively defeated Ning Changjiu head-on.

Ning Xiaoling, watching from the side, was thrilled and astonished. She knew that Sister Xiang'er's cultivation level was significantly higher, but in her heart, she also believed her senior brother was quite formidable and should have been able to withstand several rounds. She never expected him to be subdued by Sister Xiang'er in less than two moves.

With his arm seized and his nape pinned by the 'finger-sword,' Ning Changjiu could only lean forward, kicking backward with one leg. Simultaneously, his muscles and bones vibrated like fluttering feathers, and spiritual energy surged between his bones as he tried to break free from Zhao Xiang'er's grip. But the moment his leg began to move, Zhao Xiang'er sensed it. She kicked his calf with her toe, then stomped down hard, followed by a knee strike that made Ning Changjiu's knee buckle, forcing him to one knee in the snow.

Zhao Xiang'er held him down, her suppressed anger erupting. Driven by a desire to 'rid the people of harm' and 'punch a lecherous scoundrel,' she landed a fierce punch to his back. Ning Changjiu was sent flying, rolling on the ground before crashing into a snowdrift.

Zhao Xiang'er dusted off her hands and said proudly, "Do you still want to practice?"

Ning Changjiu massaged his numb arm and stood up from the snow. He looked at Zhao Xiang'er, who appeared perfectly calm, and suddenly felt that not only was he physically weaker, but his actual fighting skill was also far inferior to hers. He brushed the snow from his shoulders and said, "Since I asked Miss Zhao to train me, how can I give up halfway?"

Zhao Xiang'er said, "Then I won't hold back at all."

Ning Changjiu assumed a martial arts stance according to the forms in his memory, his expression growing more serious. "Just come at me," he said.

Zhao Xiang'er nodded. "If you can't take it, just beg for mercy. Make sure your tone is soft, and don't be stubborn."

Ning Changjiu's brows furrowed slightly as he recalled Zhao Xiang'er's punching speed and considered ways to parry. He said, "If I accidentally win a move or two, Your Highness shouldn't get angry and embarrassed."

Zhao Xiang'er scoffed, "You have a death wish."

She hadn't intended to hit him too hard, but the moment Ning Changjiu uttered those words, her killing intent surged instantly. As before, her black hair and white dress rippled silently. Her figure flashed, like a lingering streak of lightning, leaving afterimages in its wake, and another punch arrived.

Ning Changjiu barely managed to make out the punch. Its trajectory was almost identical to the first one.

His heart sank. Before the thought 'reusing old tricks' could fully form in his mind, that punch seemed to tear through space. The distance, which had been somewhat far, closed in an instant. Ning Changjiu's pupils contracted sharply. He tried to evade the attack, but his body's movements were always a fraction too slow. The punch had already slammed into his forehead, sending him reeling backward.

Zhao Xiang'er's expression was indifferent. She said, "You're all talk and no sincerity. You even dared to point your sword at me earlier. I'll punish you with ten punches first."

As she spoke, Zhao Xiang'er's punches came like shadows. Ning Changjiu's previously stable stance had been shattered by the first punch. From then on, a slow step led to many slow steps, and all his movements were led by Zhao Xiang'er's attacks. He wasn't very familiar with boxing himself, and the few cunning moves he occasionally thought of had no opportunity to be deployed under Zhao Xiang'er's airtight offense.

Zhao Xiang'er's skin was as white as snow, and the knuckles of her fists were exquisitely delicate, looking like jade that might shatter at a touch. Yet, when they landed, they carried enough force to crumple steel. Bursts of incredibly abundant power exploded each time their fists and feet met, causing ripples to spread through the surrounding space. After every collision, Ning Changjiu was forced back several steps.

Amidst the advance and retreat, Ning Changjiu's defensive posture finally collapsed under a direct punch to his chest from Zhao Xiang'er. Zhao Xiang'er seized the moment, dismantling all his attempts to recover. Her small fists pounded his chest like a drum, forcing him back repeatedly until he was sent flying like a sandbag, crashing with a thud against the courtyard wall. His body was embedded in the wall and only slid out after a moment.

Zhao Xiang'er withdrew her fists for a moment and asked coldly, "Had enough?"

Ning Changjiu leaned against the wall, shakily got to his feet, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and said, "Again."

Zhao Xiang'er scoffed, then advanced again. Her hands brushed aside Ning Changjiu's block, and she grabbed the front of his clothes, shoving him hard, sending him crashing into the wall once more. Before Ning Changjiu could react, Zhao Xiang'er landed another punch to his face as he tried to pull away from the wall, making his nose bleed and embedding him in the wall again.

Zhao Xiang'er treated him like a specimen being prepared: no matter which part of Ning Changjiu's body tried to break free from the wall, she mercilessly hammered it back in.

After delivering dozens more punches, Zhao Xiang'er seemed to tire slightly. She yanked Ning Changjiu, who was deeply embedded in the wall, out and then drove her elbow into his chest, slamming him back in.

Ning Changjiu's face was covered in blood. He gazed at Zhao Xiang'er through his swollen eyes, his resolve unwavering.

Zhao Xiang'er frowned, biting her lip. "Why are you trying to be so strong?"

With that, she dragged him out again and threw him to the ground, kicking him in the waist. He slid backward across the snow, clearing a high mound of it like a shovel.

By this point, Ning Changjiu had been beaten to the verge of unconsciousness. His entire body ached, and his heart pounded faster. Between each expansion and contraction, a hidden sound seemed to emerge, like an infant's cry.

That subtle spiritual awareness was again interrupted by Zhao Xiang'er's punches and kicks. He was lifted high, then violently swung into the snow that his body had just cleared. Zhao Xiang'er placed a foot on his chest, looking down as she asked, "Had enough?"

Ning Changjiu's chest felt as though a massive boulder was pressing down on it. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, he still reached out, grabbing her ankle and twisting it hard. But the gap in their cultivation levels was too vast. Despite Zhao Xiang'er's seemingly delicate frame, she remained utterly still under his force, like a tranquil, towering mountain.

Zhao Xiang'er took a deep breath, feeling somewhat annoyed by the young man who refused to beg for mercy. She twisted her toe into his chest, causing him excruciating pain. She recalled her conversation with Ning Changjiu earlier that day, and his smug, smirk-like expression made her unconsciously roll up her sleeves.

Even Ning Changjiu, who was prepared for another brutal beating, felt a chill run down his spine when he saw her roll up her sleeves.

Then, Ning Changjiu, who always prided himself on his unyielding spirit, had his mouth pried open. The initial few screams were muffled, but they grew progressively more agonizing, making Ning Xiaoling unable to bear listening. She watched her senior brother's miserable state with a heavy heart, yet she did not intervene, as this, after all, might be her senior brother's... method of cultivation?

Hmm, senior brother's method of cultivation is truly unique.

She closed the door.

In the courtyard, with Zhao Xiang'er's 'help,' Ning Changjiu was sent flying sky-high, plunged to the ground, and slammed into things repeatedly. Finally, Ning Changjiu lay battered and bruised in the snow, every bone aching. He was too weak to even assume a stance, let alone feign resistance. Zhao Xiang'er, however, was flushed and perspiring from her exertion, her limbs still hot. She scrutinized Ning Changjiu, who looked like a corpse, wondering how many more punches he could endure, clearly eager for more.

Under Zhao Xiang'er's intense gaze, Ning Changjiu finally couldn't bear it any longer and raised his hand to signal a temporary truce.

Only after hearing no more commotion outside did Ning Xiaoling in the room open the door a crack to peek. Seeing Zhao Xiang'er helping her senior brother up, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Xiang'er scooped up a handful of snow and wiped the blood from his face, mocking, "You're this weak and you still dared to make a three-year pact with me? Will it look good when I trample your face in front of thousands of people? Hmm... don't tell me you actually like that, do you?"

Ning Changjiu wanted to retort, but he was too beaten to utter a single word, only managing a few weak groans.

Zhao Xiang'er grabbed him by the collar, and suddenly, in her peripheral vision, she caught sight of something falling from Ning Changjiu's person onto the ground.

Zhao Xiang'er furrowed her brow slightly. With a flick of her finger, spiritual energy coiled around the object that had fallen into the snow, lifting it into the air and pulling it into her palm.

It was a... silver hairpin.

Zhao Xiang'er asked, "Why do you have something like this on you? Whose woman's is it?"

Ning Changjiu glanced with his swollen eyes. Though he couldn't see clearly, he vaguely remembered it was the hairpin he had borrowed from Lu Jiajia that day. Lu Jiajia hadn't asked for it back then, so he had forgotten to return it, keeping it with him, intending to give it back to her after the Lunar New Year when they returned to the sect.

Ning Xiaoling, standing behind the cracked door, also remembered. Before she could even defend her senior brother, she saw Zhao Xiang'er holding the silver hairpin and smiling faintly. "Oh, I remember now," she said. "This is Miss Lu's. I can't believe you, who just claimed to be a righteous gentleman, not only stole someone's personal item but also kept it close to you. I didn't realize you had such a peculiar hobby. How very righteous and gentlemanly of you."

Ning Xiaoling saw Zhao Xiang'er's fierce expression, knowing her senior brother was in for more trouble. She quickly closed the door, burrowed back under her covers, and clamped her hands over her ears.

Ning Changjiu wanted to explain himself, but at that moment, he couldn't speak a word. Zhao Xiang'er played with the silver hairpin for a while, then pinned him to the ground and gave him another beating, considering it punishment for his strange collecting habit.

Afterward, Zhao Xiang'er grabbed him by the collar, dragged him into the house, heated half a jar of water, and instructed Ning Xiaoling to treat his injuries while she went to the adjacent room to cultivate.

Ning Xiaoling wrung out a hot towel and wiped his wounds, her eyes welling up with tears. "Senior brother," she tearfully said, "how about you stop practicing from now on? Sister Xiang'er doesn't know her own strength. What if she breaks you?"

Ning Changjiu lay on the bed, his muscles aching as if torn. Under the stimulus of this intense pain, he keenly perceived something restlessly thumping deep within his Zifu. It was like a chick constantly pecking at its eggshell, and every punch Zhao Xiang'er landed on him was, in fact, knocking at that door.

However, his gate to cultivation was like a solid iron plate, with not a single crack visible, despairingly rigid.

As Ning Xiaoling wiped the wounds on his back, Ning Changjiu frowned, his voice weak. "Continue tomorrow," he said.

Ning Xiaoling made a mournful face. "What if Sister Xiang'er beats you to death, senior brother? How will I avenge you then?"

Ning Changjiu said, "Don't worry, I won't die..."

Ning Xiaoling said, "Senior brother, you're truly strong. If it were me, I'd have begged for mercy after just two punches."

Ning Changjiu sighed inwardly. If he hadn't known Zhao Xiang'er wouldn't kill him, he would never have dared to endure so many of her punches. He wondered where such immense punching power came from her small body, especially the few punches she landed while holding the hairpin afterward. They churned his Qi Sea, nearly causing him to faint directly.

Ning Changjiu's eyebrows twitched. Having just woken up, he wasn't particularly sleepy, so the sensation of pain stimulated him with even greater clarity. This pain was unlike any he had experienced before. When he fought the snow fox that day, the blade had pierced his chest and gone through his back, causing convulsive pain many times more intense than what he felt now. Yet, he hadn't felt such a profound sense of powerlessness then. From this powerlessness, fear arose.

Fear welled up in his heart.

His Qi Sea was now like a bottomless abyss. In his current state of heightened awareness, he felt as if he stood on the edge of that abyss, distinctly perceiving a heartbeat hidden within its depths.

It was as if something was about to burst out of the darkness at any moment, to devour him and take his place.

He detested this feeling. When his spirit was weak, he even felt an urge to tear apart his Qi Sea and Zifu.

"Senior brother?" Ning Xiaoling, seeing him with his eyes closed and brows furrowed, looking mentally unwell, quickly called out to him.

His consciousness, which had been lingering on the edge of the abyss, was abruptly pulled back. Ning Changjiu, drenched in sweat, suddenly opened his eyes and saw Ning Xiaoling's pretty face, filled with worry. He secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

He became increasingly certain that something in the depths of his Qi Sea was tempting him.

He steadfastly maintained his resolve, temporarily patching the flaws in his mental state.

Soon after, his exhausted body and mind still overwhelmed him, causing him to drift into unconsciousness. However, he didn't sleep for long; he woke up again half an hour later.

Upon waking, he vaguely remembered a dream. In it, he saw a crimson sun. At the center of that sun, countless complex yet straight lines intertwined like fiery wisps, faintly forming a gigantic miniature of a grand city.

The crimson setting sun, carrying an infinitely vast city, pressed down upon him. Yet, in his dream, he felt no fear. In his subconscious, he believed that this colossal red sun should prostrate itself at his feet, submitting and trembling.

However, this proud and domineering spirit was soon shattered.

Upon waking, Zhao Xiang'er, dressed in a clean white dress, stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the main door. She twirled the silver hairpin in her hand, smiling as she looked at him and asked, "Are you rested? Let's continue."

"?" Ning Changjiu was startled. He thought Zhao Xiang'er was joking, but before long, he was dragged up again. Ning Xiaoling made a token attempt to stop her, then wiped her dry cheeks and sent her senior brother out.

Zhao Xiang'er looked at him and said earnestly, "I don't think this kind of training will lead to much breakthrough in a short time."

Ning Changjiu looked at her with trepidation. "What do you intend to do?"

Zhao Xiang'er frowned. "Didn't you ask me to train you? Why that expression? Do you want to back out?"

Ning Changjiu composed himself and asked, "Does Miss Zhao have any suggestions?"

Zhao Xiang'er nodded. "Body tempering and soul refining rely on intense pressure. Since you are now only a step away from entering the Profound Realm, you absolutely cannot relax for a moment. From now on, every half an hour, I will train you. During the training, you are only allowed to take one breath. You must block as many punches as you can in that single breath. Once the breath is expended, the next round begins. Do you understand?"

Ning Changjiu felt the tearing pain in his muscles and bones, but he dismissed the thought of retreating from his mind. He resolutely declared, "I will follow all of Miss Zhao's instructions."

Zhao Xiang'er was somewhat satisfied with his perseverance. She said, "If you really can't take it, you can tell me."

Ning Changjiu asked, "How should I say it?"

Zhao Xiang'er smiled faintly. "Just shout 'Your Highness, mercy!' three times, and that will be enough."

Ning Changjiu also sneered.

Zhao Xiang'er saw his sneer and, without warning, slammed a punch at him.

After barely fending off a few moves, Ning Changjiu could no longer withstand the onslaught. He could only defend passively, his body retreating step by step under the relentless bombardment. Again and again, he was slammed into the wall or pinned to the ground, facing a thorough and brutal beating.

These days passed in such a 'peaceful' manner.

Lady Bai and they seemed to share an unspoken understanding; neither side made a rash move. Days passed like this. Besides her daily cultivation and helping Ning Changjiu with his training, Zhao Xiang'er also felt a flicker of unease. She looked at the high-hanging crimson moon, knowing her apprehension stemmed from it. Thus, every day, she would stand silently in the courtyard for a while, gauging the extent of her physical recovery, determined to shatter that crimson moon.

These days, Ning Changjiu changed many sets of clothes, and Zhao Xiang'er's 'training' times and methods became increasingly unconventional.

For example, during a meal, Ning Changjiu complained that the rice was too hard. After Ning Xiaoling informed him that Zhao Xiang'er had cooked that day, Ning Changjiu, who had just finished a beating and was finally able to eat a bite, was dragged back into the courtyard by Zhao Xiang'er under the pretext of 'sparring,' for another brutal beating.

From then on, Ning Changjiu's daily routine, besides enduring beatings, included an additional task: cooking.

Whenever Ning Changjiu rested and discussed sword theory with Zhao Xiang'er, if there were any disagreements, Zhao Xiang'er often suggested that practice reveals truth. After she dragged Ning Changjiu back, bruised and battered, he would repeatedly praise her sword theories as unmatched in their brilliance.

Ning Changjiu silently recorded all these instances in his mind, vowing to settle the score one day. While this fighting spirit motivated him, it also had negative consequences.

Sometimes, when Ning Changjiu slept, he would mutter some of his 'true thoughts' in his dreams. If Zhao Xiang'er accidentally overheard these, he would be forcibly dragged up and pulled to the courtyard to spar.

He didn't even know what he had said.

At the same time, Ning Changjiu's body continued to recover. From being utterly defenseless at first, within ten days, he could break down several moves before being defeated again. He often wondered who would win if their cultivation levels were equal.

Zhao Xiang'er saw through this thought and agreed to a match where their cultivation levels would be equal.

This match didn't last long. On the fifth move, Ning Changjiu's fist accidentally struck an inappropriate spot. His arm stiffened for a moment, and then he saw Zhao Xiang'er's frosty face.

She immediately grabbed his arm with a backhand, pouring all her strength into it.

That day, Ning Xiaoling heard screams from inside the house that were unprecedented.

That day, perhaps feeling guilty for being too harsh, Zhao Xiang'er surprisingly personally attended to him for a while.

Zhao Xiang'er sat to the side and asked, "Do you resent me?"

Ning Changjiu weakly replied, "I asked you to train me, so it's actually you who's put to trouble."

Zhao Xiang'er was silent for a moment, then asked, "Then why do you say those things when you sleep?"

Ning Changjiu frowned. "What... what did I say?"

Zhao Xiang'er said, "You often call my name. If you don't resent me, why do you call my name so frequently?"

Ning Changjiu pursed his lips and asked again, "Did I say anything else?"

Zhao Xiang'er said coolly, "What else would you like to say?"

Ning Changjiu remained silent.

Zhao Xiang'er hesitated for a moment and said, "If you still want to call my name in your dreams in the future, remember to include my surname so people don't misunderstand."

"..." Ning Changjiu suddenly felt a headache coming on.

After saying this, Zhao Xiang'er inexplicably grew annoyed. She pinched Ning Changjiu's ear and pulled him off the bed. "Time for training," she said.

Ning Changjiu, devoid of hope, followed her out.

What made him even more despairing was that Zhao Xiang'er somehow found two peach wood swords. She tossed one to him. "Aren't you not good with fists and feet?" she asked. "Try with a sword then?"

Ning Changjiu gasped. "Your Highness, swords have no eyes..."

Zhao Xiang'er swung the peach wood sword, appearing satisfied. She said coldly, "Watch your sword!"

Ning Changjiu's screams once again made history that day. It wasn't that his actual swordsmanship was poor, but rather that his current body simply couldn't execute intricate sword techniques.

Time passed with difficulty in this manner. Every day after Ning Changjiu woke up, he had to spar with her in either boxing or swordsmanship. He often wondered if she was training him or if he was simply her punching bag.

However, despite this rigorous tempering, his bottleneck to entering the Profound Realm remained unyielding. Over time, even Zhao Xiang'er was puzzled, wondering if his body had been cursed, given how abnormal it was.

As nearly a month passed, one day, while Ning Xiaoling was tending to her injured senior brother who was confined to bed, Ning Changjiu suddenly opened his eyes.

"Something's wrong," Ning Changjiu said.

Ning Xiaoling asked, "Huh? What's wrong, senior brother? What's not right?"

Ning Changjiu said seriously, "Zhao Xiang'er hasn't beaten me for an hour and a half."

Ning Xiaoling chuckled. "Senior brother, have you become addicted to beatings?"

Ning Changjiu slowly shook his head and asked, "Where is she?"

Ning Xiaoling thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't know. This morning she just told me to take good care of you, senior brother, and then I haven't seen her. She must have gone to..."

As she spoke, Ning Xiaoling's voice trailed off.

She and Ning Changjiu exchanged glances, seeing panic in each other's expressions.

By the banks of the Yellow Springs, Zhao Xiang'er stood by the water. On the opposite bank, Lady Bai sat quietly in an old wheelchair. Behind her, a youth with his head bowed pushed the wheelchair, bringing her to the edge of the Yellow Springs.