NOVEL WEB When in Doubt, Blame the Sects
Li Wei stood in the courtyard, going through the Tiger Boxing Manual's poses with the seriousness of someone folding laundry for the first time. His body had grown much stronger after breaking through to the 2nd-rate realm, though, to be fair, his face showed all the excitement of a rock contemplating life.
"Progress must be made in silence," he whispered to himself, trying not to feel too philosophical for a guy who spent his mornings punching the air.
Breaking through was only part of the challenge. "There's always more," Li Wei thought with a sigh. His next hurdle was finding someone to help him continue growing stronger. And who better than Uncle Zhao, the mayor of Longjiang, a man with wisdom, power, and—Li Wei suspected—an uncanny ability to finish three bowls of noodles before anyone else had even started.
So, off Li Wei went to Uncle Zhao's office. When he arrived, Uncle Zhao was sitting behind his desk, shuffling through an impressive amount of paperwork. "Papers," Li Wei thought, "The true martial art."
"Li Wei!" Uncle Zhao exclaimed when he saw him. His surprise was like catching your cat using chopsticks—unexpected and mildly unsettling. "What brings you here? You've never been one for social visits. Let me guess, you're here to join my noodle appreciation club?"
Li Wei, as usual, was unbothered. "I've broken through to the 2nd-rate realm," he said, as if discussing the weather.
Uncle Zhao froze, mid-paper shuffle. "Well, I'll be... that's no small feat! Congratulations, Li Wei. I didn't think you'd break through so quickly. Must've been all that air punching, huh?"
Li Wei nodded, as nonchalant as ever. "Yes, the wind really taught me a lot."
Uncle Zhao blinked, unsure if Li Wei was joking or if he had just accidentally made air seem sentient. He decided to let it go. "So, what now? What's your next move?"
"I need guidance," Li Wei replied. "Now that I've reached the 2nd-rate realm, what's the next step?"
Uncle Zhao leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as if deep in thought, though he mostly looked like he was debating whether to take a nap. "Well, breaking through to the 1st-rate realm is nearly impossible. Let me explain the options…"
He raised his hand and started counting the options dramatically, as though he were listing ways to dodge doing paperwork.
"First, you can practice high-level martial arts, but—surprise!—they're all guarded by sects tighter than a locked dumpling steamer. Unless you feel like joining a sect, stealing a scroll, or pretending to be their janitor, good luck getting your hands on them."
Li Wei nodded patiently. He wasn't exactly in the mood for janitorial duties.
"Second," Uncle Zhao continued, "you could master multiple 2nd-rate techniques. But—and here's the kicker—it's gonna take decades. You'll be re-forging your body eight or nine times, kind of like a human pancake that refuses to stay flipped."
Li Wei's expression didn't change. "I see," he said. "Not too bad."
Uncle Zhao sighed. "Oh, it gets better. Third, you could create your own 1st-rate technique. But let's be real, unless you wake up one day with the sudden inspiration to turn cartwheels into martial arts, that's as likely as me giving up noodles."
Li Wei's face remained stoic, but inside he wondered if Uncle Zhao's metaphors were just really complicated food analogies.
"And lastly," Uncle Zhao continued, "there are natural treasures—herbs, rare materials, the usual things that sound like they've been written into a fairy tale. If you're the type who enjoys treasure hunts, great! But even then, good luck convincing the royal family to part with one. They treat those herbs like they're the last dumpling at a banquet."
Li Wei nodded again. He had heard enough. "So… the next step is strengthening my internal organs?"
Uncle Zhao grinned, clearly impressed that Li Wei was catching on. "Exactly! You'll need to train your heart, lungs, liver—basically, everything inside you that doesn't show off at martial arts tournaments. Real strength lies within!"
Li Wei's mind wandered briefly to his breakfast. "Internal organs, huh? Just like poison resistance training, but with fewer side effects?"
"Exactly!" Uncle Zhao clapped. "There's a method for it, and you can get it for a modest 20 merit points at the capital."
"I have 14 merit points," Li Wei said, matter-of-factly.
Uncle Zhao threw his hands in the air. "Oh, you're almost there! Just a few more points and—wait. I'll lend you the remaining six points. My son won't need them for a while. He's too busy learning how to tie his shoes while doing martial arts."
Li Wei raised an eyebrow but accepted the offer with a bow. "Thank you, Uncle Zhao."
As Li Wei turned to leave, Uncle Zhao called out, "One more thing! This is going to be a long journey, so pace yourself! And if you ever need a break, feel free to swing by the noodle shop. Consider it part of your training."
Li Wei nodded. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."
And with that, Li Wei left, his journey ahead stretching long and uncertain—but at least now, he knew he had noodles waiting for him at the finish line.