The autumn air was crisp and refreshing, the busy farming season had ended, granting rare leisure time.
Li Rongzhou carried two fresh large fish, walking home with light steps.
As soon as he entered, he lifted the fish high, proudly displaying his catch. "Look! I caught two big spotted silver carp, each twenty to thirty jin!"
The two meter-long fish hung on either side, their mouths gaping, gills stained with blood, their coin-sized scales glistening with water.
"So big?" Lady Qin exclaimed, covering her mouth with a laugh. "My husband is truly skilled to catch such large fish."
"Of course! Let me tell you, fishing has many intricacies—the line must be tough, the hook sturdy, and the bait..."
Li Rongzhou rambled on while Lady Qin smiled warmly, occasionally interjecting with "I see" or "How impressive."
The afternoon breeze gently tousled their closely pressed black hair, swirling it into the shape of intertwined knots.
Li Rongzhou reluctantly ended his lecture. His wife disliked mess, so gutting fish—a dirty, laborious task—always fell to him, which was why they kept no poultry.
Lady Qin calculated aloud: "Salt-cure one, gift half of the other. We'll stew the head with pickles, steam the tail, and make mushroom soup with the meat."
Half was intended for Li Fang, as thanks for recommending their family to receive the Ancestral Tree's blessing. Gratitude was gratitude, and courtesy was courtesy—just because someone repaid a favor didn’t mean they should neglect reciprocating.
Relationships thrived on give-and-take; only through mutual exchange could bonds grow stronger.
"Alright, as you say."
Li Rongzhou cheerfully agreed, grabbing a cleaver. He scaled the fish against the grain, removed the fins, gutted them, and split the heads with a decisive crack.
His movements were swift and precise. Soon, one fish was salted, another sent to the kitchen, and half delivered to Li Fang’s home.
Upon returning, he found his youngest son sitting cross-legged on a stool, looking absurdly solemn for his age.
"Can'er, we’re having a fish feast tonight—all caught by your father!"
Li Pingcan ignored him, fully absorbed in his breathing exercises.
Used to his son’s eccentric habits over the years, Li Rongzhou wasn’t annoyed but watched curiously.
His amusement faded as he observed closely, his expression growing solemn, his heart stirring.
"What an unusual breathing technique."
Though his son sat right before him, his presence seemed to diminish with each rhythmic breath—a hallmark of advanced concealment arts!
Li Pingcan peeked open an eye, noting his father’s astonishment, and smirked.
Rather than pushing the Breath of the Tree on his father, demonstrating its wonders to pique interest was far more effective.
"This breathing method was bestowed by Grandfather Tree," he declared loftily, chin raised. "It nurtures vitality and prolongs life. Want to learn? I’ll teach you."
Li Rongzhou, still mesmerized, scoffed, "Since when does a son instruct his father?"
Yet he quickly relented: "Just this once. Never again."
Even disregarding longevity, such a concealment art held immense value.
In martial clashes, honorable duels were rare—ambushes and first strikes ruled the day. When lives were at stake, who cared for ethics?
As for the technique’s divine origin, Li Rongzhou harbored no doubt. They shared an unspoken rule: what couldn’t be spoken of remained unmentioned; what was said was truth.
*‘Acting all high and mighty, yet you’re still learning!’*
Li Pingcan inwardly mocked but outwardly instructed, "Watch my movements closely!"
The nine-part technique mimicked a tree’s life cycle—seed, root, stem, leaf, vein, flower, fruit—each step purging impurities and absorbing vitality.
For two days, he’d practiced relentlessly to perfect his teaching, ensuring even a fool could replicate it. Li Rongzhou was no fool.
By afternoon, he’d mastered two methods.
"Breath of the Tree begins with the seed, flourishes through roots, bears fruit, and returns to the seed—an endless cycle of renewal."
Li Rongzhou marveled at the effects: heightened vigor, steadier blood qi, and silent, prolonged breaths.
But dusk fell, and his wife’s repeated dinner calls forced him to concede: "We’ll continue after eating!"
As the wild carp dwindled, Li Rongzhou mastered the full Breath of the Tree.
Its benefits were immediate. Expelling filth and absorbing purity, sometimes even his seemingly clean body shed grime post-practice.
With time, his blood qi grew robust yet calm, his mind serene.
"Maybe Can'er was right—this could extend one’s lifespan."
His thoughts turned to his wife. Years ago, bearing their youngest in the wilderness had drained Lady Qin. Though spiritual pills aided her, refugee hardships left lasting damage no medicine could fully mend, shortening her years.
This technique might help her.
"Dad, you want to teach Mom? But she refused me," Li Pingcan said, recalling his failed attempt.
Confident, Li Rongzhou approached his wife sewing indoors. "Dear, leave the needlework. Let me teach you martial arts."
Lady Qin frowned, waving him off. "No, thanks. I’d just sweat and stink."
"This method preserves youth, keeps skin like jade, fairer than frost or snow."
She set down her needle, looping her arm around his with a sweet smile. "Husband, when do we start?"
*Mom, you switched sides fast!*
Apparently, women across eras were powerless against "whitening," "anti-aging," and "eternal youth."
In the following days,
the entire family practiced the Breath of the Tree.
Li Pingfu, ever eager for "martial secrets," needed no persuasion. Li Ping’an, buried in studies, resisted until their father forced compliance.
*‘Why would a teen need longevity techniques? That’s for grandpas!’*
Li Ping’an grumbled internally—until a month later, when mastery erased his reluctance.
Now, when reading strained his eyes, a breathing cycle banished fatigue, letting him study longer.
*‘With this, I can study by day and sneak in extra problems at night. Who can outwork me?’*
When Li Pingcan saw his brother using the technique to overstudy, he shuddered at the terrifying aura of "the King of Overachievers" radiating from him.