He kept at it until nightfall—seven to eight hours in total—just to finish this one set of movements. He was ten times slower than a turtle.

“Not good enough. Still not slow enough.”

After completing the set, Zhang Jinchuan glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I still haven’t truly slowed down. Only when I can perform this Minglun Daoyin Technique continuously for three days and nights will I have truly mastered it. To the extreme, slowness becomes speed, and speed becomes slowness. They transform into one another. From the peak of yin arises yang, and vice versa. Tension and relaxation follow the same principle. Principal Liu Guanglei’s standing technique is genuinely formidable. I just don’t know how it compares to Typhon Training Camp’s special methods. Liu Zihao trained at Typhon for a while and came back much stronger—his moves in film are now flawless. But he’s never truly achieved stillness, never reached the pinnacle. It’s like sitting on a treasure without knowing it. The real martial arts evolution of the Minglun Martial Arts Academy lies in this ultra-slow-motion standing technique. The slower it is, the deeper the kung fu.”

While contemplating, he suddenly made a move.

Swish swish swish…

His arms moved with unbelievable speed, leaving afterimages behind.

He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of playing cards. With a flick of his wrist, the cards sprang to life, almost as if they were sentient.

He casually drew the two of diamonds. With a quick flick, it turned into the ace of spades.

Then he demonstrated techniques like palming, switching, and stealing cards—moves more magical than any magician.

Whoosh!

After playing with them for a while—testing how refined his sleight of hand had become—he flicked his wrist, and a card shot out like a blade, spinning rapidly. With a thud, it pierced through a book on the shelf and embedded itself inside.

“Not bad. Seems like there’s been some improvement.” Zhang Jinchuan casually tossed the card into the trash.

Elsewhere in a hidden alleyway private kitchen, Zhang Manman and Su Jie had just finished a carefully prepared meal of Nie family cuisine. After a short rest, Su Jie finally spoke.

“This is Nie family cooking too? Impressive. Way better than what I can do.”

“Nie family’s private kitchen used to cook for emperors and empresses. They specialize in health and wellness. Took me a lot of effort to book a table,” Zhang Manman said. “But this flavor really takes me back to our days at Minglun Martial Arts Academy. I hear things aren’t going too well there lately.”

“Could it be that the Feng family bought in and is starting to take over?” Su Jie’s heart skipped a beat.

He had deep feelings for the Academy. Gu Yang, Uncle Mang, and Nie Shuang had all treated him well. If not for Minglun, he wouldn’t be where he was. Liu Zihao might have been arrogant, but even he played a part.

“Pretty much. Liu Zihao let the wolves in. The Academy’s being infiltrated bit by bit. Doesn’t look good,” Zhang Manman said. “Now all the classes and resources are favoring fighters who’ve signed with the Feng family.”

“I always knew the Fengs were snakes,” Su Jie nodded. “Every company they invest in ends up getting controlled. Can’t believe so many businesses still fall for it.”

“Not much choice,” Zhang Manman shrugged. “Under capital pressure, most companies take a gamble. They want to scale up, so they cling to a bigger player. And they need the money. At Minglun, the old headmaster Liu Guanglei is buried in research. Day-to-day stuff is left to Liu Zihao, who’s trying to partner with Haoyu Group to fast-track the Academy’s expansion. But he has no fear of Feng’s influence. Sure, he can shoot flashy fight scenes, but when it comes to business? He’s still no match for old fox Feng Shoucheng.”

“By the way, did you get my visa processed? How long will it take?” Su Jie asked.

“Fast. Within a week. We’re not going to a major country—just some small war-torn place. They’re pretty lax.” Zhang Manman waved it off. “Did you know Zhang Jinchuan studied at Minglun Martial Arts Academy for a year too? We didn’t get much out of it, but he picked up the Minglun Daoyin Technique developed by Liu Guanglei.”

“Minglun Daoyin Technique?” Su Jie raised an eyebrow. He knew about daoyin—it was likely one of the oldest forms of martial arts. Zhuangzi wrote, ‘Blow, exhale, breathe; mimic the bear, stretch like a bird—these are the daoyin masters, who cultivate the body and live long like Pengzu.’

In essence, it uses breathwork and physical movements to strengthen the body and extend life.

There are many daoyin forms. The earliest was found in silk manuscripts from the Mawangdui Han tombs. There are also cave paintings, and later developments like the Five Animal Frolics, Yijin Jing, Xisui Jing, and even Golden Bell Cover, Iron Shirt, and Thirteen Protectors Iron Body—all variations of daoyin.

“The Minglun Daoyin Technique is a unique method from the Minglun Academy. It blends ancient physical movements with modern medical science, refined over thirty years of practice. And its core trait? Just one word—slow,” said Zhang Manman.

“Slow?” Su Jie hadn’t learned much during his time at Minglun, but what he did was high-quality. Unfortunately, he missed out on their most profound teachings. Clearly, this technique was the Academy’s true hidden gem.

“They say the movements are so slow that most people don’t have the patience. It’s extremely difficult to get started,” Zhang Manman explained. “Even something as simple as raising a hand can take over an hour.”

“Raising a hand takes over an hour?” Su Jie couldn’t believe it. No one would have the patience to do that.

Even tai chi isn’t that slow.

People practicing it might go nuts—spectators even more so.

“My dad said that if you can truly master the Minglun Daoyin Technique, your strength and endurance will skyrocket.” Zhang Manman continued, “Apparently, Liu Zihao didn’t have the patience for it. But Zhang Jinchuan did. I didn’t learn it myself, but I once saw Liu Guanglei practice it—he stood there all day with one leg lifted.”

“Modern kinesiology says muscle memory comes from repeated high-speed drills. That’s how you build skill for real combat.” Su Jie said, “Tai chi values slowness as a path to speed, but everything has limits. Too slow, and it’s counterproductive.”

“Exactly. I don’t quite get it either. Seems like a waste of time,” said Zhang Manman. “But my dad insists it’s top-tier stuff. Unless you immerse yourself in it, you’ll never really understand.”

“Fair,” Su Jie admitted. “When I first practiced the hoe strike, I didn’t realize how much depth there was to such a simple move. Minglun isn’t just a school—it’s a research institute. If they developed this technique, there must be solid theory behind it. If I ever get the chance, I’d love to study it.”

Su Jie had shifted his training by now.

He no longer practiced the tai chi-style joint exercises originally taught to him by Odell. Instead, his new regimen included Golden Bell Cover, Iron Shirt, Thirteen Protectors Iron Body, and other “hard qigong” forms.

His training was intense—roars like thunder, howling chants, body slaps with vine-like arms, and wild, swaying movements like a tree in a storm.

This was the advanced stage.

The earlier methods suited beginners. His new techniques were advanced material from Odell’s curriculum, though Odell never actually passed them on. Instead, Master Luo somehow got ahold of some videos, studied them with Master Ma, and passed them to Su Jie, adding their own insights.

Sure enough, after training, Su Jie’s stamina improved drastically. His internal organs grew tougher, his mind steadier, and his body shock-resistant. Inside and out, he was like iron.

He realized cultivation truly had no limits. He once thought his training had plateaued—without breaking into the “Living Dead” realm, further gains were impossible. But now, it was like discovering a new continent.

He understood now—no matter how much he knew, he still had so much to learn.

‘Teaming up with Zhang Jinchuan and learning from him might be my chance to crack the secrets of the Minglun Daoyin Technique,’ Su Jie thought. ‘I made the right call.’

If he could witness the Minglun Daoyin Technique firsthand, Su Jie felt he could deepen his understanding, push his iron-body training further, and improve his physical performance even more.

He stayed in B City for a week. The visa came through. Then he left with Zhang Manman and Zhang Jinchuan for the location where militants had seized their shipment.

The destination was remote. They flew to a neighboring country, drove across the long border, then took a boat overnight before landing on the coast. From there, another five to six hours by car brought them to the city where the goods were being held.

The entire journey took three days and nights.

The city was in ruins—destroyed streets and buildings everywhere. Refugees picked through rubble for salvageable materials.

“This place saw war a few years ago. Though there’s now a ceasefire thanks to UN mediation, many cities are still devastated. Some areas are under militant control, and skirmishes still break out. Basically, it’s a warlord mess,” Zhang Manman said.

“I’ve done my homework on this place,” Zhang Jinchuan replied cheerfully from the van. He wasn’t the least bit travel-weary.

They were riding in a minivan—a Wuling Hongguang.

Zhang Manman’s specialty ride.

Su Jie stayed silent the whole trip. It was his first time abroad—and straight into a war zone. It felt surreal, like stepping into a news report.

Refugees were everywhere. The cities were scorched ruins. Pickup trucks with armed soldiers patrolled the roads. It was nerve-wracking, as if gunfire could erupt at any moment.

Su Jie was on edge the entire time.

Compared to this, life back home had been too easy. He didn’t want to spend even a second longer here.

Meanwhile, Zhang Manman and Zhang Jinchuan were calm and composed, as if they’d been to places like this before.

Zhang Jinchuan was even chatty: “Now that this country’s rebuilding, the provisional government is slowly restoring order. Investments from around the world are pouring in to seize new opportunities. Rebuilding from ruins creates massive business potential. Sure, it’s dangerous—but where there’s money, there are always people willing to risk their lives.”

“Like us,” Zhang Manman said, slapping Su Jie on the shoulder. “Relax. It’s relatively safe now. Our country’s helping with the rebuilding effort. With our national power backing us, even the militants don’t dare mess with us. Didn’t you notice how the soldiers smiled and nodded when they saw us?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep