Chapter Eight: The Maiden’s Training

Liu Ru’s entire body was buried deep within the ice and snow, yet her skin burned with fever, as if set ablaze. The snow around her melted rapidly, turning to water and seeping into the softened earth beneath, but more flakes fell, filling the gaps once more. With each breath—long and deep—her body resembled a roaring furnace, fueled by her very being, drawing in air and unleashing boundless strength. Her clothes, swollen from the heat radiating from her, clung to her, and on her exposed snow-white skin appeared intricate patterns, blending feathers and flames.

Deep in the snow, Liu Ru kept her eyes tightly shut, poised on the knife’s edge between subtlety and peril. In that precarious state, her thoughts drifted back to the words Su Ziye had once spoken to her.

“I’ll teach you the first step of cultivation: breathing.”

“Breathing?” she had echoed in wonder, unable to fathom that the technique she’d mastered since birth was the very foundation of all cultivation.

“Do you know what breathing truly is?” Su Ziye had asked in return.

The question had rendered Liu Ru speechless. What was breathing? From the moment of birth, one must breathe—expelling the old, drawing in the new, without pause. If breathing ceased, even for a few minutes, death would follow.

“The essence of breathing is burning,” Su Ziye continued with a gentle smile. “You’ve seen firewood blazing in a furnace; the human body is itself a furnace. Each day, we eat countless foods to provide energy, just as you constantly add wood to the fire.”

“If you stop adding fuel or shut off the air, the flames will die, and silence will follow.”

“So, the essence of life is fire.”

“To begin cultivation, you must first master the secret of breathing. It is the key to unlocking the limits of your body—speed, strength, explosive power—all rely upon breath.”

“Now, I’ll teach you a breathing technique designed just for you. With it, under normal circumstances, in six months you’ll achieve results and move to the next stage, the art of moving blood.”

“But unfortunately, we don’t have six months.”

“Your task is to comprehend the true essence of the breathing technique within fifteen days.”

To condense six months of practice into fifteen days was almost unimaginable for most people. But Su Ziye was not most people.

He brought Liu Ru to this snow-laden mountain. There, her days became a cycle: eat, breathe, eat, breathe—on and on, without end.

Never had Liu Ru imagined she could consume so much. With every trip, Su Ziye might haul back an entire elk or tiger, skin it, roast the meat on the spot, and feed it to her, stuffing her small frame as though fattening a duck.

At first, she could only manage a few morsels; soon she devoured an entire deer leg, even a full rack of ribs. What once seemed impossible became reality, and she found herself marveling at it.

The secret was breathing.

She truly felt herself transformed into a great furnace—no matter how much she consumed, it burned away, converted swiftly into energy to be used.

But soon, a problem arose.

Liu Ru had no way to expend such energy. As Su Ziye explained, without any interference, the body would simply store the excess as fat. Traditionally, one would exercise rigorously to burn it off, shaping the body bit by bit.

But Su Ziye’s method was different.

He wanted Liu Ru to ignite herself.

Literally ignite.

He taught her to use breath to raise her temperature, to make her blood boil—a method that brought her the agony of burning from within. And to counter this, he used the endless cold and snow to cool her, employing the elements themselves as her tempering forge.

Through all this, Liu Ru endured with fierce tenacity and almost superhuman endurance, clenching her teeth and persevering.

Until, at last, she heard the boy’s gentle laughter: “That’s enough. Open your eyes.”

At his words, Liu Ru slowly opened her eyes—and could scarcely believe the scene before her.

There was not a flake of snow around her.

Beneath her feet, the ground was scorched red as fired brick, while the evergreen conifers nearby had withered and yellowed, their needles scorched as though a great fire had swept through, leaving devastation behind.

“What happened?” she croaked. Only then did she realize her throat felt as if seared by burning coals—dry, brittle, and raw, as if even speaking might tear it apart.

Silently, Su Ziye handed her a gourd. She took it, and gulped down the icy liquid within.

The cold liquid traced a path through her body, reviving her like spring’s return to a dead land, bringing her exhausted form back to vibrant life.

“How do you feel now?” Su Ziye asked quietly, not answering her question.

Liu Ru took stock of herself, and answered honestly, “Hungry.”

She was ravenous—she felt as though she could eat an entire ox.

“Good,” Su Ziye replied with a faint smile. “Now try hitting me with your fist.”

The moment his words fell, Liu Ru’s body moved.

Instinctively, her fist clenched, her elbow drew in, her body twisted.

And with a sudden motion, she hurled her fist toward Su Ziye.

Before her mind could catch up, her body acted. She felt the air resisting her blow, each inch a struggle, thunder rolling in her ears. It seemed as if this punch could shatter a mountain.

But in the end, her fist landed on something as soft as cotton.

She looked up to see Su Ziye’s hand open, calmly catching her full-force punch. He hadn’t taken a single step back. Though he’d caught her blow, Liu Ru felt as though she’d punched into thin air—all her strength vanished without a trace.

The boy smiled at her, repeating, “How do you feel now?”

In that instant, Liu Ru was again overwhelmed by a leaping, urgent hunger that seemed to well up from every cell in her body.

She licked her lips unconsciously.

Su Ziye smiled. “Open your mouth.”

Almost without thinking, Liu Ru obeyed.

Su Ziye extended his hand, and with his thumb’s nail, made a light cut across his forefinger. A drop of golden, luminous blood welled up, then fell into Liu Ru’s mouth.

It was as if a droplet of living flame landed on her tongue—warm, burning, melting instantly, then vanishing, coursing through her veins and meridians, flooding every corner of her body.

The gnawing hunger vanished in an instant.

Astonished, Liu Ru stared at Su Ziye. He had already shown her countless miracles, but it was clear there would be more.

“What was that?” she asked.

“That is the second realm of your cultivation—learning to store the power you draw from breath within your blood. Only then will you avoid expending all your accumulated strength with a single punch.”

“This is what is called ‘Moving Blood.’”