What Fan Xian didn't know was that he was practicing an extremely advanced method of internal strength. If he was a normal warrior, he would practice it with extreme caution, and would ask a teacher or a trustworthy friend to help watch over him.
The most dangerous part of this method was at the beginning. When accumulating energy into the snow mountain in the dantian, there would be a huge difference in the reaction speed of the cultivator's body and mind. The most direct consequence was that the cultivator's bodily functions would become like that of a vegetable, unable to move.
If the cultivator had no experience, it was easy to mistakenly think that he had gone mad, and force the zhenqi into his body. If the cultivator was lucky, he might be able to return the chaotic zhenqi to his meridians, but that would mean that the practice would be of no use. If the cultivator was a beginner, he might panic and cause a true demon to invade him.
But for a beginner like Fan Xian, not only did he not go mad, but he experienced that mysterious feeling more easily than the strong. This was all thanks to his background and luck.
When he first started practicing this nameless zhenqi, the body he lived in was still an infant. The innate zhenqi from his mother's body had not yet been completely returned to the world, and was still in his body. Thus, his practice was twice the result with half the effort, and he even managed to store a large portion of the innate zhenqi in his meridians.
And for Fan Xian, the demon that was the easiest for a cultivator to encounter, was not difficult at all.
Don't forget, in his previous life, Fan Xian had been bedridden for many years. He had long gotten used to his brain not being able to direct his body, so he did not panic when he encountered this situation for the first time. Instead, he felt the warmth of finding the remnant memories of his past.
So when he first started practicing, he was not very afraid when the zhenqi began to scatter, making it impossible for his body to move.
Because he was fearless, his mind was free of distracting thoughts, and he easily passed through the most difficult hurdle.
From then on, practice became simple. He only needed to silently recite the method, and he would naturally enter a meditative state. So for Fan Xian, his daily naps were very sweet, and could not be woken up by thunder.
It was extremely difficult for ordinary cultivators to enter a meditative state, because it required luck and coincidence. For this child to meditate every day was an indescribable luxury.
The heavens really did care for him.
…
…
When she woke up, she rolled her fresh and lovely face in the towel in the servant girl's hand, which was considered washing her face.
In the afternoon, he began to study with a teacher from Donghai County, who was specially invited by the Earl's Mansion, in the study. The teacher was not very old, about thirty years old, but his body gave off a very old and rotten smell.
Ten years ago, the Kingdom of Qing had begun a literary reform movement. It had begun with an essay by Mr. Hu, the head of the Secretary Pavilion, on literary reform. Today's literary scene was the battleground between ancient and modern literature.
The so-called ancient language was the classical Chinese from Fan Xian's memory, while the modern language was similar to the vernacular, but the wording was more elegant.
Fan Xian's teacher was a fan of the ancient school of literature, so he taught Fan Xian what to read every day. Although these books were not the same as the Four Books and Five Classics of Fan Xian's previous world, the wonderful thing was that many of their contents were not too different. They were also divided into Confucianism, Mohism, Legalism, and Daoism.
As a result, Fan Xian began to wonder where he was the first time he attended the class.
The summer was hot and stuffy, and the study was steaming. The teacher pushed open the south window, and the sound of cicadas could be heard outside. Together with the cool breeze, it was a beautiful scene. The teacher looked back and saw his pupil sprawled on the table in a daze. He was about to reprimand him, but when he saw that beautiful little face, his heart softened.
The teacher actually admired his pupil. At such a young age, he could speak clearly, and could understand a thing or two about the profound meaning of the predecessors recorded in the books. For a four-year-old urchin, this was not easy.
The teacher had his own doubts. Count Sinan was a little too impatient, and the requirements in his letter were too high. He had no choice but to start teaching the four-year-old the scriptures. In an ordinary household, at this age, he would only be learning a few words and reciting a child's education.
When the lesson was finished, Fan Xian politely bowed to the teacher, and then respectfully waited for the teacher to leave the study. Only then did he take off his sweat-soaked coat and run out of the study. The girl servant behind him yelled at him to be careful the whole way.
When he entered the main courtyard, Fan Xian immediately stopped. With an innocent and lovely smile on his face, he waddled in like a little adult. Seeing the old lady sitting in the middle of the room, he opened his mouth and called out in a childish voice, "Grandmother."
The old lady's face was kind and benevolent, and her deep wrinkles were all traces of age. Only the occasional expression in her eyes told others that she was not a simple woman. It was said that Count Sinan's current status was inseparable from the old lady's connections in the capital.
"What did you learn today?"
Fan Xian stood in front of the chair obediently. After explaining what the teacher had taught him, he bowed and went to the side courtyard to eat with his sister.
The old lady and her grandson seemed to be strangers. He didn't know if it was because Fan Xian was an illegitimate child, but although the old lady didn't mistreat him, she always had high expectations of him. As a result, she always seemed a little distant.
Fan Xian remembered that when he was only one year old, the old lady before him had held him in her arms and wept in the middle of the night. Of course, the old lady didn't expect a one-year-old infant to understand her words, and she silently remembered them.
"Child, if you want to blame someone, blame your father. Poor thing, your mother died as soon as you were born."
...
...
Past? That was a big question in Fan Xian's mind. When he first arrived in this world, he had been ambushed. Although he now knew that his father was Count Sinan, a high-ranking official in the capital whom he had never met, who was his mother? Back then, Count Sinan had been with the Emperor on the Western Expedition, and the assassins had naturally targeted his mother.
But the soul within him belonged to another world, so naturally he couldn't have any father-son feelings for Count Sinan, whom he had never met. He would only occasionally think of the woman who had already left this world, his mother in name.
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