Chapter 15 — Satellite Channel
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
As for Old Man Wei, once he learned that Wei Zhao was cultivating the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art, he had by and large adopted a stance of tacit consent — neither instructing nor interfering, letting Wei Zhao develop as he pleased.
Yet after cultivating the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art, though Wei Zhao felt his constitution had risen markedly, he could see little change in his martial skill; by no means was he a match for Old Man Wei.
Old Man Wei was like a boss in a game dungeon: when Wei Zhao grew stronger, he grew stronger; when Wei Zhao grew weaker, he grew weaker too. It was a thing that left Wei Zhao thoroughly exasperated.
If he had to name any change in himself, it was that his senses had grown far keener than before — in hearing and in sight, a shade sharper than they once had been.
Day after day, year after year, with no one to guide him, Wei Zhao had more or less cultivated the first stage of the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art to a rough completion.
In the blink of an eye the five-year term arrived. It was another night of the full moon, and Wei Zhao once more entered the stone door of that cave at the foot of West Star Mountain. To his regret, however, this time he did not open the stone door behind the great hall.
The outcome did not surprise Wei Zhao, for he knew that his first stage, the Heavenly Silkworm stage, had not broken through; after reaching the middle phase, it had made no progress at all.
He had told Old Man Wei of his plight, but Old Man Wei had only smiled and shaken his head, making clear there was nothing he could do.
The second five-year term was almost upon him, and the anxiety in Wei Zhao's heart grew sharper by the day. All these years, and he was still stalled at the middle phase of the first stage. If things went on this way, he would return empty-handed once again.
By now Wei Zhao understood that the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art he was cultivating was not a martial art at all, but a secret manual of the sort used for the cultivation of the Dao. It sounded shocking to the ear, but Wei Zhao knew that this, in truth, was what he was practicing.
And when he thought back to Old Man Wei's strange behavior on that first night of the full moon, Wei Zhao even suspected that the whole thing had been premeditated — a trap deliberately laid, to kick him down West Star Mountain and into that stone door. Otherwise, why should Old Man Wei, of all times, have chosen to test his skill in the dead of night on a full-moon night?
And even if he meant to test him, there was no need to run all the way up to the mountaintop, was there? And even if he went up to the mountaintop, he need not have struck with deadly force, need he? And even if he struck with deadly force, he need not have kicked him, by such a coincidence, right to the mouth of the cave, need he?
Fine — even granting that he had been kicked to the cave mouth by coincidence, why did Old Man Wei wait until he had come out of the cave before seeking him out? And after Wei Zhao told him all he had seen and heard, the indifferent look on Old Man Wei's face was that of a man who had known it all along. Every last bit of it made Wei Zhao deeply suspicious.
Yet whenever Wei Zhao raised his suspicions with Old Man Wei, Old Man Wei gave no answer. In time Wei Zhao could not be bothered to ask; deliberate or not, he would cultivate his own...
When Wei Zhao came out of his meditative state, the sky beyond the window had already turned the pale white of a fish's belly. Wei Zhao shook his head helplessly. Each time he finished his practice he felt some small progress, and his whole body felt fresh and clear, yet still there was no great breakthrough.
He hurried to the bathroom, took a cold shower and washed up, rinsing the sweat from his body, then pulled on the No. 1 Middle School uniform and walked out of the room.