Chapter Thirteen: The Mystical Tome of Cultivation

“Do not envy the heights of other mountains; when your cultivation deepens, you yourself will become a towering peak!” Meng Fan carefully pondered this saying.

He looked at Yue Huyang, feeling a sense of understanding. Such composure, such confidence—he truly possessed the air of a grandmaster.

If not for the limitations of vision and knowledge, perhaps his own master could have developed a path of Xingyi Boxing; who could say?

After a full day of teaching from Yue Huyang, Meng Fan returned home with Old Meng. This time, they gathered Meng Fan’s belongings, as he would soon live with Yue Huyang for an extended period.

Only during leisure would he return to the zoo.

Since childhood, Meng Fan had followed his master in a relationship known as “son-disciple.” As the saying goes, a disciple is half a son—this was no mere cliché.

That very night,

Meng Fan asked Old Meng, “Dad, now that I will live at my master’s house, will you miss me?”

Old Meng sighed, patting Meng Fan’s little head, and said, “You’ve grown up here in this park with hardly any friends or companions; as your father, I don’t have much to offer.”

“When you’re with your master, learn more, observe more, ask more. Master Yue is an extraordinary figure. If you can acquire great skills, I will be truly happy.”

“In a few months, you’ll also start school. I’ll speak with Master Yue; he said he’ll arrange for you to attend elementary school in Chang’an during the day.”

“From Monday to Friday, you’ll attend school by day and train in martial arts by night. On Saturdays and Sundays, I’ll take you back home to enjoy two full days of rest.”

“Of course, this means you’ll have a tougher schedule!”

Meng Fan shook his head. “It’s not hardship. You taught me, Dad: ‘Endure the hardest of hardships to become the best among men.’”

Old Meng nodded appreciatively but then hesitated, saying, “Son, if you have time, practice the Beast Master’s techniques, but don’t forget them entirely.”

Old Meng feared that after seeing superior methods, his son might disdain their own lineage. Yet the Beast Master’s school must continue, after all.

Hence, this reminder.

Meng Fan smiled warmly. “Naturally, one must never forget their roots. Besides, my master can make Xingyi Boxing bloom with artistry. One day, your son might also astonish the world with the Beast Master’s techniques!”

Old Meng smiled faintly but could not hide his worry. He was well aware of the shocking advances in the Beast Master’s art.

Yet knowing these truths only made him more fearful.

Old Meng murmured, “Xiaofan, focus mainly on Xingyi Boxing; let the Beast Master’s techniques be secondary. Practice them casually, just enough to keep them alive.”

Meng Fan understood his father’s concerns and smiled in response. “Alright!”

In truth, Meng Fan intended to give both equal weight.

Xingyi was essential—it forged the foundation of his life and character. The Beast Master’s art was equally vital, as it might be what saved his life in the other worlds he would soon explore.

In the days that followed,

Meng Fan began learning boxing from Yue Huyang. Since Yue excelled in the Tiger form, Meng Fan naturally studied the Tiger style, though this did not mean Yue was unfamiliar with other forms.

From a grand perspective, Xingyi Boxing was interconnected; the twelve animal forms combined into a supreme method for refining one’s vital energy.

With every movement—dynamic or still, tense or relaxed—emulating animal postures, the entire body’s bones, meridians, muscles, and flesh were trained thoroughly. Coupled with the method of circulating qi, Meng Fan’s appetite also grew steadily.

The old saying “scholars pursue letters, warriors pursue strength” was not a mere joke but grounded in truth. Humans ingest the essence of grains to nourish the body; the essence is absorbed into the five viscera, digested, and refined, spreading throughout the body, generating qi in the limbs and bones, filling the interior until one is full.

Those who consume water are good swimmers but cold; those who consume earth are calm yet wise; those who consume wood are strong and vigorous; those who consume grass are swift but dull; those who consume leaves have silk-like traits; those who consume meat are brave and fierce; those who consume grains are intelligent and heavenly; those who consume pure qi are divine and long-lived; those who consume nothing are immortal and godlike.

Ancient wisdom held many such truths.

Training both form and intent occurred simultaneously, and the first step to nurturing form and spirit was to observe the tiger.

“Observe the tiger?” Meng Fan asked, puzzled.

Yue Huyang nodded. “Exactly. Only by truly understanding the tiger’s habits, its skeletal structure, veins, muscles, and movements, then imagining yourself as a tiger, can you truly cultivate Xingyi.”

“Acquire the tiger’s form, nurture the tiger’s hunting spirit!”

“A tiger feasts on a herd of sheep and reigns supreme in the forest, nurturing the heart of a king and conqueror!”

Hearing this, Meng Fan couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to his Li Tang bloodline.

The phrase “heart of a king and conqueror” made him shiver involuntarily.

Yue Huyang seemed unaware of Meng Fan’s reaction and continued, “To nurture the tiger’s spirit, guard the fortress gate. If the gate isn’t firmly shut, the tiger escapes its cage, rampages, and wreaks havoc. Build a tiger’s fortress in your heart.”

“Of course, to help you understand better, you can substitute another spirit, like the monkey’s!”

“For example, do you know the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong?”

“I know, I know!” Meng Fan nodded eagerly.

“Sun Wukong lets his monkey nature run wild—stirring trouble in the Dragon Palace, disrupting the underworld, wreaking havoc in Heaven—only to be trapped beneath the Five Elements Mountain. To tame this Great Sage, the tightening circlet was needed.”

Meng Fan found Yue Huyang’s explanation fascinating and quickly asked, “Master, could it be that Journey to the West is also a manual for cultivation?”

Yue Huyang’s tone grew meaningful. “Of course. The author, Wu Cheng’en, whether by madness or wisdom, was as bold as the Great Sage himself.”

“He revealed the secrets of cultivation in full—much like the ancient Taoist sage Laozi leaving behind the Tao Te Ching.”

“Yet Laozi’s Tao Te Ching contains profound and ambiguous truths, which even lifelong practitioners struggle to fully understand. Every character holds countless interpretations, each a path to enlightenment and wisdom.”

“Journey to the West is different. It hides the principles of cultivation within its stories. If one is truly gifted, perhaps they might discover an extraordinary method within.”

Meng Fan’s interest peaked. “Master, how do we, as supernatural beings, interpret Journey to the West? Could you tell me?”

Yue Huyang brightened. “I only know a little, but I have a knack for parroting what I’ve heard. Let me share what a senior Taoist once told me about Journey to the West!”

“This was a valuable insight I gained in my youth, and upon reflection, it remains brilliant.”

Then Yue Huyang chuckled self-deprecatingly, “What I’ve created in Xingyi Boxing is nothing compared to the centuries-old legacies of those great sects.”

“Truly: like a frog in a well gazing at the moon, or an ant beholding the vast sky!”

With a sigh, Yue Huyang concluded.