Chapter 3: Reckless Advance and Injury
Half a month had passed since the fox demon incident, and Lan Sizhui seemed to have lost some of his impetuousness. He practiced sword skills more diligently in the mornings, and became more cautious in his interactions with others. However, the tenacity hidden in his bones was only further exposed after these lessons. He always practiced without hesitation.
It happened to be the Lan Clan's elegant gathering that day, with disciples from various aristocratic families gathering at the Cloud Recesses to exchange spiritual power and swordsmanship. Naturally, Jin Ling, as the head of the Lanling Jin Clan, was also present. During the afternoon break, he approached Si Zhui, sword in hand, a youthful smugness on his face. "Si Zhui, I learned a new sword technique the other day. It's a modification of my uncle Jiang Cheng's, combining techniques from the Jiang and Jin clans. Would you like to try it out?"
Lan Sizhui gazed into his gleaming eyes, remembering his father's frequent words, "The purpose of sparring should be to improve oneself, not to compete." He was about to decline, but then he caught a glimpse of several children from other aristocratic families nearby, their gazes tinged with mockery. A thought struck him—he'd been constantly punished for his mistakes these days, and some people might think he was a coward. Perhaps he should take this opportunity to show everyone his progress.
"Okay." He tightened his grip on the sword. "That's enough."
The two men stood in the martial arts arena, quickly surrounded by a gathering of onlookers. Jin Ling struck first, his sword flashing like a thread, carrying the unique sharpness of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, yet concealing the exquisiteness of the Jin Clan's swordsmanship in his finishing strokes. Lan Sizhui focused his attention, fully utilizing the calm and steady nature of his Wangji swordsmanship. The Bichen Sword wielded with such ease that he achieved a draw with Jin Ling.
A murmur of admiration echoed from the spectators. Jin Ling's excitement grew as the fight progressed, his attacks becoming increasingly rapid. "Well done! Take another one!" He leaped forward, a dazzling burst of spiritual energy condensing at the tip of his sword. It was the Jin family's unique technique, "Golden Scale Emergence."
Lan Sizhui's heart tightened. This move was incredibly powerful; with his current cultivation level, he'd probably be injured if he took it head-on. But the gazes from the people around him were like sparks falling on him, burning him a little. He didn't want to lose, and even more so, he didn't want to be called "relying on the reputations of Han Guang-Jun and Senior Wei, but truly having no real skills."
A surge of impatience washed over him. He ignored the principle of counteraction and forcibly mobilized his spiritual energy, intending to meet the enemy head-on with the Lan family's "New Moon" sword move. The moment the two spiritual energies collided, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if something had exploded. His vision went black, and he fell straight backwards.
"Si Zhui!" Jin Ling exclaimed, retracted his attack, and rushed over to support him.
Lan Sizhui coughed up blood, his face pale as paper. The spiritual energy within him was like a wild horse running free, surging through his meridians, causing him to tremble with pain. Only then did he realize that, in his momentary impulsiveness, he had committed a cardinal sin of cultivation: rushing for success and forcing his energy.
In the chaos, he seemed to see his father and dad rushing over, and then he completely lost consciousness.
When he woke up again, it was already late at night. Calming incense burned in the quiet room, and his father's cool fingers rested on his wrist. Lan Wangji had his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed, clearly trying to sort out his chaotic spiritual energy.
"Father..." He spoke weakly, his voice as thin as a mosquito.
Lan Wangji opened his eyes, his eyes dark and emotionless. "Awake." He withdrew his hand, a faint fluctuation of spiritual energy on his fingertips. "How do you feel?"
"...My meridians still hurt." Si Zhui bit his lip, not daring to look into his eyes.
Wei WuXian came in from the outer room, carrying a medicine bowl. Seeing that he had woken up, he breathed a sigh of relief, but then his face darkened again. "You, you're such a worry! Just spar with me, why are you trying so hard? You had to take Jin Ling's attack head-on? If your father hadn't stabilized your spiritual power in time, your arm would have been broken!"
Si Zhui's tears welled up instantly: "I... I don't want to lose..."
"Is winning or losing so important?" Lan Wangji's voice grew cold. "In the path of cultivation, impatience is the most important thing to avoid. For the sake of a momentary win or loss, you disregarded your own foundation and forced your cultivation, nearly going astray. Is this the lesson you've learned these days?"
"I was wrong..." He choked, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I shouldn't have been so competitive... I shouldn't have been so eager for quick success..."
"You know, cultivation is like rowing against the current. If your foundation is unstable, the faster you rush, the harder you fall." Lan Wangji stood up and took a scroll of bamboo slips from the bookshelf. "Copy the 'Calming Heart Sutra' a hundred times. Starting tomorrow, you will be confined to the quiet room and meditate for four hours every day. You can leave the room only when your mind is calm."
Sizhui nodded and was about to agree when he heard his father say, "As for the punishment..." Lan Wangji looked at the stool beside the couch, "Kneel down and hold out your hands."
His heart tightened, but he didn't dare hesitate. He struggled to get off the couch, knelt on the cold ground, and slowly extended his right hand. The scar on his palm had long faded, but the touch of the ruler still seemed to be imprinted in his flesh.
“Bang!”
The ruler came down hard, harder than ever before. Si Zhui shuddered in pain, but bit his lip tightly, not daring to make a sound.
"One. Remember, be humble and avoid arrogance."
“Bang!”
"Two. Remember, do what you can."
The ruler fell repeatedly on his palm, the crisp sound especially clear in the silent night. Si Zhui's palm quickly turned red, and his tears fell like beads from a broken string, hitting his clothes, leaving a small dark stain.
He knew his father was truly furious this time. Not because he lost the sparring match, but because he treated his body and his path like a joke.
"Fifteen." After the last blow, Lan Wangji put away the ruler and looked at his red palms and tear-stained face. His voice softened a little, "Go lie down on the bed. Drink the medicine while it's hot."
Wei Wuxian helped him back to the couch and held the medicine bowl to his lips. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, but Sizhui felt that the taste in his heart was even more bitter than the medicine itself.
"Daddy, am I really useless?" he asked tearfully, "I can never learn to be calm, and I always make you worry..."
“Silly child.” Wei WuXian put down the medicine bowl and tucked in the quilt for him. “Who hasn’t made some foolish mistakes in their youth? When your father was fifteen, he stood on the wall of the Cloud Recesses for two hours in order to compete with me in archery accuracy. As a result, the teacher punished him by making him copy the family rules for three days.”
Sizhui was stunned.
"People grow up through falling down." Wei Wuxian smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. "What's important is to be able to get up after falling down, remember the pain, and never fall into the same pit again. Your father punished you because he was afraid that your fall this time would be minor, but you would be crushed to pieces next time."
Si Zhui stared at the ceiling of the tent, remembering the slight frown on his father's face as he channeled his spiritual energy, and the forbearance in his voice as the ruler fell. Suddenly, he understood. Beneath the stern exterior, he hid a worry heavier than a mountain.
In the days that followed, Sizhui remained confined to his quiet room. Every day, he would copy the "Secrets of the Quiet Mind," meditate, and focus his mind. As his fingertips traced the words "Only when you are quiet can you find peace; only when you are at peace can you think" on the bamboo slips, he would always remember his father's teachings.
Occasionally, Jin Ling would ask someone to send some medicine and snacks, with a note attached: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you that day. When you get better, I'll treat you to Tianzixiao." Si Zhui looked at the note and couldn't help laughing, and the depression in his heart also eased a little.
A month later, on the day he was released from confinement, Lan Wangji asked him to go to the martial arts training ground.
"Practice your swordsmanship once and let me see it."
Si Zhui unsheathed his sword, each move smooth and steady, without a trace of impetuousness. The Bichen Sword swirled in the morning light, like a calm lake, yet it inadvertently exuded a resilient strength.
As he put away his sword, he saw a glimmer of approval in his father's eyes.
"Yes." Lan Wangji nodded. "When your mind is steady, the sword will naturally be steady."
Sizhui bowed, the sunlight falling on his face, illuminating the clarity unique to youth. He knew there would be many setbacks along the road to growth. But as long as his father's teachings remained in his ears and his father's gentleness in his heart, he would have the courage to walk steadily and resolutely, step by step.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
