I Alone Devour All Under Heaven

Chapter 2

Weapon: Oxtail Knife.

Weapon spirit level: Not yet entered.

Devouring requirements: None. (Satisfied)

Devouring effect: Entry of the Five Tigers and Sheep Knife.

He had originally expected that the weapon spirit of such a good knife must be higher than those useless knives on the shelf.

But the result was exactly the opposite.

The weapon spirits of the useless knives on the shelf were all of the second or third level, but the weapon spirit of this good knife in his hand had not yet reached any level at all.

In other words, the weapon spirit of this good knife was far inferior to those useless knives on the shelf.

"This..." Mo Qian could not figure out the reason right away.

"Could it be that the longer a weapon is used, the more of a person's spirit is absorbed into it, nourishing the growth of the weapon spirit?"

However, this was just Mo Qian's guess and would need to be verified later. He did not dwell on this uncertain matter for too long. After all, being able to devour the weapon spirit of this knife was a good thing for him.

Moreover, the devouring effect was the Five Tigers and Sheep Knife, with the knife skills reaching the entry level.

For him, this could be said to be a timely blessing.

Although it was only the entry level, if it could truly be achieved, it would be more than enough to be promoted to apprentice.

Mo Qian was overjoyed.

"Devour!"

After Zhao Mu handed his blade to Mo Qian, he stretched his back and walked to the weapon stand, picking up a worn knife.

Zhao Mu stood in front of the crowd and spun a knife flourish with his right hand, saying: "I showed you this move, the Antelope's Gift, twice yesterday. Now watch it again carefully!"

Zhao Mu performed it quickly first, his legs stepping and his movements flowing with a kind of practiced rhythm.

"Watch closely!"

Zhao Mu called out again, then performed it slowly, explaining the key points of each movement as he went.

"Pour your right foot and place it in front of your left foot, then kick your left foot forward!"

"At the same time, bring the right-hand knife from the bottom upward in an arc, then lift it to the front with the blade up and the tip of the knife pointing forward!"

Zhao Mu finished explaining the move, then turned his head and looked at the group of errand disciples with blank faces. He cleared his throat and said: "Alright. Now let me see you all try it twice."

After Zhao Mu finished speaking, the disciples swarmed toward the weapon shelf and each grabbed a knife.

Zhao Mu turned to glance at the gate of the courtyard and saw Mo Qian still sitting there. He walked over a few steps and called out: "Boy, is the knife wiped yet?"

Mo Qian froze, raised his head, his eyes appearing distant, and looked at Zhao Mu with a blank expression.

Zhao Mu was about to get angry. He thought Mo Qian was making such a dull face on purpose out of dissatisfaction at being made to wipe the knife, as if to mock him.

However, Mo Qian seemed to snap back. Though his eyes were still unfocused, he stood up, placed the knife back in its scabbard, held it in both hands, and offered it to Zhao Mu.

When Zhao Mu saw Mo Qian's expression settle, the anger in his heart subsided considerably. He took his knife and placed the worn knife from his own hand into Mo Qian's, saying curtly: "Get back in line!"

Mo Qian looked down at the worn knife now resting in his hands, as though coming around slowly. He took it and stepped back into the crowd of errand disciples.

Zhao Mu watched Mo Qian's blank expression and muttered: "Could the fever from a few days ago have burned him stupid?"

Mo Qian stood at the end of the line, still and vacant, making no move to practice the knife form like the other errand disciples.

Today was the second day Zhao Mu had taught the Antelope's Gift move.

These errand disciples were not foolish. They could copy the routine well enough by following the example set before them, but those who could give it real meaning numbered only three: Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng.

Since beginning to guide these higher-performing disciples, Zhao Mu had over the past few days taken particular notice of these three. Among them, Kong Bin had the best natural aptitude and the most polished routine, standing a clear cut above the rest.

Zhao Mu focused his attention on the three of them, correcting the fine details of their movements, while the others received only a passing glance.

When everyone had finished practicing, Zhao Mu said firmly: "Good. Study it carefully when you return, and make it sharp!"

"Now, standing stances! As it has always been said, before learning to fight, one must first learn to stand!"

"Without a solid stance, the hands and feet cannot develop strength! And with weak hands, no matter how fine the routine, it is nothing but decoration and useless in a real fight!"

All the errand disciples set down the knives in their hands and began to stand in their stances.

The stance Zhao Mu taught these errand disciples was an ancient one called the Round Pile.

Feet bowed, hands held before the chest, fingers slightly open.

When standing the Round Pile, five bows must be maintained: the body bow, the left and right arm bows, and the left and right leg bows.

The five bows are led by the body bow, supported by the arm and leg bows. When the five work together, they form a coordinated and unified whole-body structure.

With the exception of Mo Qian, who still held his knife without moving into stance, the other errand disciples had all begun standing.

Zhao Mu guided only Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng, tapping their shoulders and elbows to adjust their posture.

Seeing the others practicing, some grew flustered with envy.

After guiding the three in their stances, Zhao Mu tucked the oxtail knife under his arm and left without a backward glance.

He guided these errand disciples daily, but for only half a stick of incense at a time.

From beginning to end, Zhao Mu did not spare Mo Qian a single glance.

Mo Qian appeared dim and vacant, but in truth his mind was completely clear. Or rather, he could clearly feel that his brain had become sluggish.

It was as though something had been stuffed into his mind and left it unable to function properly, like a stomach too full to allow movement.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled across the courtyard, washing over the errand disciples in warm light.

Some of them bit down hard, cheeks bulging, holding on with nothing but willpower.

Standing in a stance is grueling work.

In a regular fighting sequence or even a real bout, the muscles take turns engaging and resting.

But in a standing stance, every muscle in the body works simultaneously, and the consumption rises sharply.

By the time only half a stick of incense had passed, some people could no longer hold on. The moment their qi broke, the muscles throughout their bodies began to ache.

Several errand disciples looked with envy at Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng, then shook their heads and sighed, their gazes drifting toward the yard entrance.

In the red glow of the setting sun, one could faintly make out Kong Bin, Li Chong, and Zhang Zheng, a thin heat rising faintly from their bodies.

The more standard the posture, the greater the consumption. The stances of the three had been personally adjusted by Zhao Mu, and so their consumption was the greatest among all the errand disciples, yet the three of them could ordinarily endure to the very end.

Seeing people leaving the courtyard one after another, Mo Qian, though slow to react, eventually followed the crowd and walked out.

These errand disciples were in a gloomy mood and had no desire to talk. They all walked in silence.

It seemed likely that several more among them would be absent from martial arts practice the following evening.

The errand disciples made their way to the kitchen in the lower courtyard and began collecting their dinner.

Mo Qian suddenly felt hungry when the scent of food reached him. He joined the queue and received a bowl of cabbage soup and two cornmeal steamed buns.

Mo Qian ate the soup and steamed buns clean, then staggered to the place where they usually slept.

It was just turning dark, and the large bunk was empty. Mo Qian lay down directly and fell asleep.

He felt that the thing stuffed into his mind was slowly melting, like ice dissolving, seeping into his very soul.