Chapter 52: I Am the Chosen One!

As the peach blossom petal in his mouth vanished, a peculiar force surged forth.

This force was entirely beyond Ji Wu’s control; the moment it appeared, it began to dissipate of its own accord, drifting away like mist into nothingness. Yet a small portion of it flooded into Ji Wu’s body, embedding itself at the very origin that had stirred the power of the peach blossom petal.

An indescribable sensation enveloped Ji Wu.

In an instant, an incomparably gentle warmth coursed through his body, and he felt as if he were once again a fetus, freely absorbing the nourishment of new life.

Simultaneously, the force guiding the power of the peach blossom petal grew rapidly. At first, it was little more than a faint wisp, frail and nearly nonexistent. But as the mysterious energy poured in, it swelled swiftly, from an elusive thread to a gentle trickle, and then into a stream, robust and powerful.

By the time Ji Wu emerged from that strange sensation, the moon had already climbed high into the sky.

He rose from his bed, and a faint cracking sound came from the surface of his body.

Focusing his gaze under the moonlight, he saw that his skin was coated in something resembling a scab.

Lighting a candle, he fetched a bronze mirror and took a closer look.

His once bronze skin had turned the color of wheat; when his fingers brushed it, there was not the slightest roughness. Instead, it was astonishingly delicate—hardly the skin of a hardened martial artist, but as smooth and tender as that of a newborn child.

He glanced at his palms; there was not a trace of callus to be found.

Looking at himself now, anyone might believe him to be a frail scholar!

“What in the world...” Ji Wu was stunned. He had trained since childhood, and his hands had long been hardened by calluses—yet now, even those had vanished without a trace?

It wasn’t just that. Ji Wu also sensed that his vital energy was far more abundant and vibrant, brimming with life, and his strength had grown by leaps and bounds.

Yet even that was not his greatest gain.

With a mere thought, the trickle of energy within him surged forth like a stream, moving at his command, perfectly obedient to his will.

“Internal power... my internal power has grown a thousandfold, if not more!” Ji Wu’s eyes widened in disbelief.

In this era, there were two ways to practice martial arts, which could be cultivated simultaneously.

One was external training, and the other, internal.

External training was straightforward: aside from learning techniques and forms known to others, it was mainly about tempering the muscles, bones, skin, and flesh, making the body ever stronger—eventually reaching a point where even blades and swords could not easily harm the practitioner.

Compared to internal cultivation, external methods produced results far more quickly.

From a young age, one could lay the foundations, gradually strengthening the body, loosening the limbs, and achieving results before the body’s natural growth had even completed. With further training of muscles, bones, and flesh, and mastering forms and techniques, one could claim a modest accomplishment—this was the path all martial artists must travel.

The other path was internal cultivation.

Internal training differed from external in that it could only begin once the body was fully developed—when growth had essentially ceased.

Otherwise, the practice would do more harm than good, and the losses would outweigh any gains.

Thus, those who achieved distinction in martial arts always began with external cultivation, often for several years, sometimes even a decade, before turning to internal methods.

Yet internal cultivation produced results painfully slowly, often requiring years of diligent effort to see even the slightest progress.

The Ji family’s escort agency possessed such methods, and Ji Wu had only begun to practice them two years prior; even now, he had only barely managed to condense a few wisps of internal energy.

Such a meager amount was virtually useless, requiring years of patient nurturing before it could truly shine.

Internal cultivation was slow to start, time-consuming, and dependent on talent; it required at least ten years of painstaking effort before it could be employed in combat, and only those who had immersed themselves in the martial arts for decades might find it truly useful.

Yet now, the internal power in his body—which until recently could only be described as a “thread,” barely perceptible even with focused concentration—had become a gentle stream, ready for his command!

Roughly estimating, this level of internal power would have taken him no less than a decade of diligent training to achieve!

“I’ve heard Father say that the essence of internal training is refining one’s own vital energy. That’s why only after the body is mature can one begin to practice it slowly.

Otherwise, if one has not yet fully grown and starts seizing this vital energy through internal cultivation, it will only hinder future progress.”

Ji Wu murmured to himself, “A martial artist’s vigor is abundant, and the power not used daily is simply wasted. Thus, the method of internal cultivation was born—to refine this surplus strength into a reserve more gentle than one’s vital energy.

This power is entirely one’s own, akin to a ‘life-saving pill’ forged by the martial artist. Whether called upon in battle or relied upon to cling to life when grievously wounded, it offers enormous benefit.

Because of this, refining internal power is naturally slow and arduous; every thread is a manifestation of one’s life force, and therefore precious beyond measure. The key is accumulation over time.

Internal power has its drawbacks but also its obvious advantages: once it is formed, it is like having a custom mold within the body. As long as one’s mind and spirit remain whole, even if all internal energy is spent, it will gradually replenish itself, with endless applications.”

Therefore, as long as one can cultivate internal power, one is continually expanding one’s own limits—it must not be neglected.

“But now…”

Ji Wu clenched his fists, feeling the surging vigor and the powerful internal energy flowing through him like a stream. The two forces coexisted without the slightest conflict; indeed, with the support of this internal power, the vital energy became even more active.

This overwhelming sense of strength was intoxicating.

In just half a day, he had advanced along the martial path as though he had journeyed for ten years!

All of this was thanks to that peach blossom petal.

“So this is the power of an immortal?

No, this isn’t even truly Mr. Xu’s power. This is merely a single petal left behind after his incarnation dispersed—how could it compare to even a fraction of Mr. Xu’s might?

And even the power of that single petal, I did not fully absorb; at least half, perhaps more, dissipated... Yet even so, it was worth a decade of effort!”

Ji Wu’s eyes blazed with excitement.

This, truly, was the means of the immortals! Even the scraps left behind by an immortal, when they fall into mortal hands, are an unimaginable gift!

He had once worried that, given Mr. Xu’s ability to descend to the mortal realm but once a year for a single day, any great ambition would be fraught with risk.

But now, all such worries had been swept away, leaving only exhilaration.

If he could consume a few more peach blossom petals, who in all the world could be his equal?

A century’s worth of internal power—enough to sweep aside all enemies!

Even grandmasters of martial arts would have no choice but to bow before him!

He was chosen by the heavens!