Chapter Thirty-Three: After the Rain

The rain finally ceased, barely, as evening descended. The clouds dissipated and the rain cleared, with the sunset casting a crimson glow over the mountain ridges, as if they were draped in robes of red brocade. A faint mist curled around the back of the mountains, veiling the forest, giving the illusion of being in an immortal realm.

Chen Yu was digging in the fields, reopening a channel that was nearly clogged by silt. The season of floating rains was not limited to this one spell; for the next half-month, wind and rain would come intermittently, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, with the weather unpredictable.

On the mountain path, the fallen pine and cypress still lay across the center of the road, stones piled to either side, blocking the way so tightly not a sliver of space remained. Today, he did not intend to clear this; he would wait until all the loosened stones above had tumbled down, lest he be struck at an unfortunate moment.

Many trees had fallen behind the mountain as well—some snapped in two, others uprooted entirely by the wind and water, with soil and stones scattered everywhere.

The peach trees before the temple and the slender pines and dwarf pear in the courtyard had fared well; aside from a few broken branches and leaves, they had weathered the storm unharmed. This year’s wind and rain seemed fiercer than last year’s, according to memory, but thankfully, the trees had endured.

Yet not all old things could withstand the floating rain. In the rear courtyard, the eaves were struck by a broken branch from who knew where, cracking the tiles and letting rain seep through the steps beneath. There were more than a few such places; several spots had broken holes, and though the storm had subsided by afternoon, rain still leaked through, wetting the house.

Once Chen Yu had finished tending to the fields, he hurried to repair the roof. Otherwise, if another rain came that night, the house might well turn into a cave of cascading water—heavy rain outside, light rain inside—making sleep impossible.

Clang!

He scraped away the sticky mud, uncovering a boulder the size of a human head. He paused, bent to lift it with all his strength, and tossed it aside. Around midday, the rain was at its heaviest; the mountain torrents roared so loudly they drowned even the thunder, sweeping many things down from the heights—broken branches, leaves, mountain fruit, carcasses of wild creatures.

This stone had tumbled down from some higher ground under the force of the water and landed in the channel. Scanning the area, he guessed it had fallen nearby, and soon spotted a stone mound near the woods with a missing chunk.

He set the stone outside the field, where fragments and debris had already piled up, all excavated from the channel. To prevent them from being swept back in, he planned to dig a pit and bury them soon.

Actually, he could simply dump them down the mountainside, but the road was blocked, and this end was steeper, with fewer slopes. If he dumped them, the stones might roll all the way down the mountain. If they struck a herding child or a herb gatherer, it would be disastrous.

Time slipped by swiftly; the evening glow faded, tinged with the silver of stars and moon. At last, having cleared the channel, Chen Yu was digging a pit to bury the debris. Fortunately, there were few carcasses in this batch; otherwise, he wouldn’t dare bury them so close to the fields.

Once finished, he put away his tools and fetched a stack of intact ceramic tiles from the woodshed, placing them in a basket and carrying a wooden ladder on his shoulder. Guided by memory to the spots where holes had appeared, he set up the ladder and climbed onto the roof, repairing each place in turn.

Crunch, crunch.

The broken tiles could not bear his weight. Even stepping carefully, cracks spread across many of them. He replaced each, placing the damaged tiles in the basket to bring down. Before leaving, he picked up a branch and swept away leaves and dust between the tiles, piling them in the basket to dispose of later. These weren’t the hard, large stones from before, so dealing with them was much easier.

...

March twenty-ninth.

The heavens returned to smiling, as the sun broke free from clouds and thunder to hang high in the sky, bathing the earth in light. Mist still lingered over Qing Tai Mountain, not yet fully dispersed. At the heart of thick mist and clouds, the Cloud Crane Temple stood quietly. Chen Yu, donned in his Daoist robes, respectfully offered incense to the deities in the main hall.

Then, he changed into his everyday clothes and began his exercises. Yesterday, out of caution, he rushed to repair the leaks before nightfall, so his evening practice was limited to seven or eight rounds of the Spirit-Calling Body Strengthening Technique and a brief session of standing meditation. It wasn’t exactly laziness; the strengthening technique’s benefits were not inferior to normal training, but his energy had been diverted elsewhere—a shortcut, perhaps.

So, this morning, he climbed out of his warm bed, determined to make up for yesterday’s missed training. Yet, whether it was an illusion or not, Chen Yu found that when practicing the Cloud Crane movements, the vigorous actions and the need to focus on postures made it hard to maintain the concentration and operation of the Spirit-Calling Body Strengthening. The two methods could not be practiced together.

Although the second stage of the strengthening technique involved some physical movements, they were nowhere near as expansive as those of the Cloud Crane method.

Chen Yu considered whether he needed to make some choices between the two. Not that he would abandon his self-created Spirit-Calling Body Strengthening Technique, but practicing them separately would take more time.

Fortunately, the Qi-Gathering method of the Harmonious Killing sect did not cause such conflict; he could operate the strengthening technique while also breathing and gathering qi, calming his mind and spirit.

In the end, he resolved to devote more time to the Spirit-Calling Body Strengthening Technique. As for the Cloud Crane method, he would keep up with the breathing, external training, and footwork, but for the rest—fist and leg techniques—he need only maintain proficiency, so as not to grow rusty.

Hoo!

In the courtyard, amid lingering mist, Chen Yu quickly slipped into his practice. The water pouch at his waist was already dry; all the spiritual liquid he’d filled before was gone. Of the three pouches he had, only one remained.

He had intended to save some, but yesterday’s trial of the new method had drawn him in, and he practiced twenty-seven rounds before he knew it, draining the pouch. That wasn’t his limit; he felt he could have gone two or three more rounds, but his liver and the spiritual liquid couldn’t take it, so he was forced to stop.

By his estimate, each successful operation of the Spirit-Calling Body Strengthening Technique absorbed spiritual liquid equivalent to more than a tenth of his usual daily intake, and the physical strengthening matched or even exceeded the benefits of practicing the Cloud Crane method.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have chosen the former over the latter.

Yet the strengthening technique was not perfect; the stimulation to the liver was excessive. Even after a night’s natural recovery and nourishment from spiritual liquid, the side effects lingered.

Under normal absorption of spiritual liquid, the liver was not only unstimulated but gradually strengthened. But his current method was like pushing the limits, inevitably causing some harm.

Luckily, the strain could be soothed and left no lasting effects.

Sometimes, he mused, the liver governs wood—could it be that the spiritual energy he cultivated was of the wood attribute?

He shook his head and laughed, pushing aside such fanciful notions to focus on exercise. Since there was still some lingering strain around his liver, he decided not to operate the strengthening technique for now.

He concentrated on practicing his fists, pondering the essence of the techniques, sometimes gaining insight. These fleeting flashes might seem trivial now, but perhaps next time he refined his method, they would prove useful.

Thus, even though he would reduce his investment in the Cloud Crane method, it did not mean abandonment. Rather, during practice he needed to be more focused and attentive, so as to gain something in return.