When people were in Qin, they captured Zhao and questioned Qin.

Chapter 35 Talent

When Zhao Heng returned to his room, the maid on night duty had already prepared hot water.

After he finished washing up, he dismissed the maids and sat alone at his desk. After thinking for a while, he seemed to suddenly remember something important and got up to walk to the corner of the inner room.

There were several unremarkable old wooden crates stacked there, and he opened one of them.

The box contained a jumble of seemingly random items, mostly bamboo slips, silk scrolls, and even some everyday gossip that he had his servants collect a few days ago. Now everyone in the mansion knew that Zhao Heng's temperament had changed; he was quiet and studious, and no one dared to touch his belongings without his permission.

Zhao Heng parted the rolls of old silk used to cover the opening of the box, took out the few light brown women's undergarments from his bosom, glanced at them, and carefully folded the clothes back to their original state, put them at the bottom of the box, and then covered them tightly again with miscellaneous items.

After doing all this, he walked back to the bedside, but leaned against it and, by the light of the candle on the small table beside the bed, began to peruse a few volumes of miscellaneous notes that he had found in the library.

After reading for about half an hour, his eyes became a little sore, so he put down the bamboo slips, blew out the candles in the outer room, leaving only a small bronze lamp by the bed, and then sat cross-legged on the bed, facing upwards, closing his eyes and concentrating.

The secrets of Guigu breathing techniques were already firmly ingrained in his mind. As his breath sank and was guided back to his dantian, almost as soon as the thought arose, a warm current naturally began to flow along the meridians of the Qi Mansion.

The five senses become exceptionally sharp during breathing exercises.

The energy in my dantian was more solid than it had been the previous two days, and it circulated smoothly throughout my body, as if this meridian had been opened up a thousand times over.

While maintaining his breathing rhythm, Zhao Heng focused his mind inward, calmly reflecting on his actions.

In the past two days, he has clearly realized that he possesses an astonishing talent in martial arts.

Of course, the original owner of this body did not possess such talent. The eleven-year-old Zhao Heng was just an ordinary noble child, even somewhat timid, and had no interest in swordsmanship or martial arts.

As for himself, as a time traveler, he had never systematically studied any traditional martial arts in modern society, let alone such a mysterious method of internal breathing.

But now, whether it's the smoothness of practicing breathing techniques, the subconscious recognition of the "White Snow" melody during the day, or the arguments based on classical allusions, everything seems effortless, as if it were an innate instinct.

However, Zhao Heng did not dwell on this issue excessively.

Now that we've arrived in this seemingly real yet strange world of Qin, and since this world has things like internal energy and Yin-Yang techniques that defy common sense, then martial arts are an indispensable means of self-defense.

Regardless of where these instincts come from, since they already exist, making good use of them is the only correct choice.

He had already secretly observed the martial arts skills of Meng Ben and his three companions.

To be fair, all four were skilled fighters, better than ordinary wandering knights, but their martial arts were at best third-rate. They could handle ordinary soldiers and ruffians, but if they encountered true masters of internal energy, such as the assassins of the Luo Wang organization or the successors of the Hundred Schools of Thought, they would probably be outmatched.

In this perilous city of Handan, one's own safety cannot, and should not, be entirely entrusted to others.

Since this "Guigu Breathing Technique" is the only one that can be used as a foundation-building skill, then I will cultivate it to the limit that I can reach.

Once the mind is settled, all distracting thoughts disappear.

Zhao Heng maintained his breathing rhythm, his mind completely immersed in it.

Time passed slowly, and the oil in the copper lamp gradually burned down, causing the flame to dim.

His breath followed the natural flow of Qi, tirelessly completing twelve perfect cycles. Zhao Heng felt his mind and spirit full, and his limbs and bones warm and comfortable. Only then did he focus his mind on his dantian, slowly guiding the flowing internal energy back to its source, and gradually conclude his practice.

He blew out the bronze lamp and lay down peacefully.

He always kept in mind that children need sufficient sleep to grow.

……

For the next few days, Wei Jia did not return home.

Zhao Heng was not in a hurry. He continued his daily routine as usual, getting up at 7:00 AM, washing up and having a meal before going to his study to review the classics that Wei Jia had taught him. Afterward, he would expand his knowledge on his own, browsing through some military books and more obscure historical records and notes on Wei Jia's bookshelf.

Back at Zuiyue Tower, the fake mother, Wu Ji, did send someone to inquire once, asking when Xue Nu could begin teaching, so she could make arrangements in advance.

After hearing Luan Ding's report, Zhao Heng simply asked him to reply, saying that he had been busy with his studies these past few days, and that he would send someone to inform her once he had arranged the time. He told Xue Nu to wait patiently.

Early in the morning, when it was still light, Zhao Heng had already gotten up.

However, today he did not go to the study to study as he had done in the past few days. Instead, he changed into a narrow-sleeved Hu robe, tied his hair neatly behind his head with a cloth belt, and walked straight to the martial arts training ground in the mansion.

The martial arts training ground of Lord Chunping's residence is on the east side. Although it is not very large, it is still quite rare within the royal city.

Several archery targets stood on the sidelines, and weapons racks were neatly arranged with knives, spears, swords, and halberds, mostly unsharpened practice implements, with a few real weapons gleaming coldly hanging on them. Stone weights, wooden stakes, and other strength training equipment were scattered in the corners.

Because the residence was built within the royal city, where land was extremely valuable, it was impossible to open a horse riding field. Therefore, the training ground was mainly used for infantry combat and archery practice.

The morning mist was cool, and servants had just sprinkled water on the ground, leaving a slightly damp, earthy smell in the air.

Zhao Heng got up early today, but when he arrived, Ji Cheng and Luan Ding were already there.

Both men, dressed in dark brown short-sleeved shirts, were practicing back and forth in the center of the field. Their shouts, the dull thud of wooden swords clashing, and the sound of footsteps on the damp earth sounded particularly powerful in the morning stillness.

As Zhao Heng entered the training ground, Ji Cheng slid to the side, dodging Luan Ding's swift thrust, and then swung his sword back, forcing Luan Ding to retreat and defend.

"Young Master?"

Ji Cheng caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye, stopped what he was doing, turned around, and looked at Zhao Heng with some surprise. Luan Ding also turned around, stopped what he was doing, and stepped forward to bow with the former.

Zhao Heng waved his hand, walked to the weapon rack, and carefully examined the various weapons displayed there.

Ji Cheng took a few steps closer, casually wiped the fine sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and grinned, "Young Master, what brings you here today? Do you want to stretch your muscles? I've been meaning to teach you a few self-defense sword techniques, but you always say you don't like using knives and spears."

Zhao Heng remained noncommittal, only a slight smile playing on his lips, his gaze still lingering on the weapons. He said, "No rush. You two, practice like you did just now, do it again. This time, fight seriously, don't hold back, let me see carefully."

Ji Cheng and Luan Ding exchanged a glance, somewhat puzzled, but simply agreed in unison and resumed their fighting stances.

The wooden swords clashed again, but this time, perhaps because Zhao Heng was watching, both of them were a little reserved. Their moves were stiff and methodical, and their swift and fierce movements were less ruthless than before. Instead, it was more like they were practicing a set of moves, as if they were worried that their moves were too fast and fierce and that Zhao Heng would not be able to understand them.

Zhao Heng watched quietly for about fifteen minutes, then suddenly turned around and walked towards the wooden rack where clothes and water bottles were placed on the side of the field.

There lay Ji Cheng and Luan Ding's swords, sheathed and lying across the shelf.

He reached out and picked up one of the swords.

"Young Master," Ji Cheng glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his hands continuing their movements, but he already warned, "My sword is standard military issue, heavier than ordinary swords. Be careful, don't..."

Before he could finish speaking...

"Zheng."

The clear, resonant sound of the sword being drawn rang out.