"Zhang Fusheng, 18 years old, graduate of Lishu Middle School... pre-pay tuition for one term, 100,080 yuan."
The receptionist typed quickly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, without lifting her head, she said:
"One term is three months, today is June 29, so your next tuition payment is due before September 29."
"The zero foundation course is divided into four main categories: Contemplation, Breathing, Pile Skill, and Combat Technique. Which one do you want to start with?"
"Contemplation!" Zhang Fusheng answered decisively.
"Alright."
The receptionist nodded:
"Contemplation classes are held once every three days, personally taught by the hall master. There is a class at 10 AM, in training room number 2 on the third floor, you can make it if you go now."
Zhang Fusheng took his 'student card,' hung it around his neck, thanked her, and quickly headed to the elevator.
Hongji Martial Arts Dojo was the top martial arts hall in Jiangzhou City that he chose after much consideration. It's located in the Third District, occupying a five-story building in the city center.
The hall master, Hong Tianbao, according to the information, is a Martial Arts Master surpassing the Twelve Refinements and was reportedly a special instructor in a certain military unit.
Such a person is far superior to the teachers in the Martial Arts Department of Jiang University—of course, the tuition is also quite expensive.
One term costs 100,000 yuan.
And this is just the basic course.
On reaching the third floor, Zhang Fusheng entered the room marked '2'. It was a very spacious room, about five to six hundred square meters, with meditation mats covering the floor and incense burning in the corners from eight directions.
With a glance, he noted thirty or forty students sitting on the meditation mats. Most were engaged in conversation, with a few meditating, and only a few noticed Zhang Fusheng.
Strangely, there were nine rows and nine columns of meditation mats, but the students all sat instinctively in the back rows. The second and third rows were sparse, and the first row was completely empty.
After a brief moment of thought, Zhang Fusheng walked past the others, amidst some surprised glances, and sat down alone in the first row.
He came here to learn the true teachings.
He needed to be 'noticed.'
"Could this be an expert?"
Someone whispered.
"Not necessarily, perhaps he's just a new and reckless person... New students always want to show off, but they'll face hardship later."
The naive boy sitting behind Zhang Fusheng softly reminded:
"Classmate, you're sitting at the front... the pressure is immense."
"Pressure?" Zhang Fusheng asked humbly, "What kind of pressure?"
The naive boy thought for a moment, then said:
"The pressure from the Contemplation Technique."
Zhang Fusheng was a bit puzzled, but calmly said:
"Hearing you say that makes me even more curious, I have to give it a try... I'm Zhang Fusheng."
"Niu Dali." The naive boy nodded politely.
As they spoke, the chatter behind them suddenly stopped, and Zhang Fusheng, sensing something, quickly sat upright, only to be startled to find a chubby, round old man peacefully seated in front of him without him knowing when he had appeared.
The chubby old man looked kind and amiable, with an air reminiscent of Uncle Wang from next door, smiling as if he were the Maitreya Buddha from a past life.
"Hall Master!"
The students said in unison.
Could this be the Divine Elephant Hong Tianbao?
"Yes."
Hall Master Hong responded with a gentle nasal sound that entered the ears like a bell suddenly ringing in the mountains, startling the morning mist.
The vague drowsiness Zhang Fusheng felt was also shattered.
"Today, I have time to guide you in a session of Contemplation training... Is there a new student?" Hall Master Hong's voice was unhurried, like a spring breeze blowing by.
"I am," Zhang Fusheng raised his hand.
Hall Master Hong glanced at the young man in front of him and nodded slightly:
"Have you practiced Contemplation Technique before?"
"No, Hall Master."
"No?"
Zhang Fusheng saw the round, plump hall master lift his eyelids, meeting his gaze.
'Boom!!'
The Martial Arts Hall disappeared.
He looked around in confusion; it was all white bones, grim white bones, broken swords, shattered armor, and he saw a Wilderness Giant Elephant in the distance stamping on the grim white bone ground, howling up to the sky, bringing with it an eight-thousand-wave of sinister wind, chilling to the bone!
Zhang Fusheng felt his body, mind, and will completely frozen, as if he had fallen into the abyss of hell, sinking, sinking...
Sinking deeper.
"Indeed, there's no trace of practicing Contemplation Technique."
A voice as pleasant as a spring breeze sounded again in his ear, the illusion disappeared entirely, and he was back in the training room.
He was panting heavily, his expression both shocked and delighted—was there really such a method in the world?
Indeed, there is such a method in the world!
"Since there's a new student, Niu, tell him about it." Elder Hong spoke slowly.
A sweat-drenched Zhang Fusheng watched as the naive boy stood up and stepped forward:
"Yes, Master."
Not Hall Master, not Teacher, but Master... the true teachings?
Niu Dali turned around, facing Zhang Fusheng and the others, with a simple smile:
"Everyone, consider this as a review."
He began to briefly explain:
"Contemplation techniques are categorized into Entry Level, Minor Achievement, Great Success, Perfection, and Breaking Limit, corresponding to the five major levels of contemplation."
"Namely, [Outer Aspect], [Inner Realm], [I should see myself as such], [He should see me as such], and, [It was always like this]."
The honest youth began to speak fluently.
"Lower Grade contemplation techniques, such as the Sunrise Basic Contemplation Technique and the Snow Mountain Basic Contemplation Technique, can be cultivated to the level of Great Success, I should see myself as such."
"Middle Grade contemplation techniques can be cultivated to the level of Perfection, which is He should see me as such."
"Our Hongji Martial Arts Dojo's contemplation technique—the Grim White Bone Observation, belongs to the Superior Contemplation Technique category, theoretically it can be cultivated to 'Breaking Limit,' the final level among the five major contemplation levels, [It was always like this]..."
The honest youth spoke increasingly smoothly, while Zhang Fusheng cast aside his initial astonishment and 'don't judge a book by its cover' sentiment, listening attentively.
After a lengthy discourse.
Niu Dali scratched his head and solemnly said:
"Still, contemplation technique is the first and most important aspect of cultivation, martial arts cultivation is not just about our physical form, but also spirit, will, and soul, which can be far more important than physical strength."
"Now, please look at the Contemplation Map."
A man and a woman came carrying an ancient scroll, and Zhang Fusheng looked towards it; there sat a person, the left half of whose body was rotting like decayed wood, while the right half was grim white bone,
the decayed left hand touched the ground, and the white bone right hand pointed toward the sky, the face appeared to be both smiling and crying, seemingly compassionate yet grim.
The entire scroll exuded a sense of eeriness, terror, horror, and taboo.
Zhang Fusheng swallowed his saliva.
This thing...is it serious??
"The Grim White Bone Observation, first observe my body as rotting then decaying, like a skeleton, both alive and dead, both withered and honored, at the time of the alternation of spring and winter, at the moment of the cycle of sun and moon..."
Niu Dali narrated in a low voice, his tone suddenly rising:
"Everyone, please observe this map!"
The students' spirits jolted, instinctively fixing their gaze on the White Bone Scroll, the old Hall Master's knuckles knocked three times in the air, which actually made a 'thud' sound!
In the three 'thuds,' Zhang Fusheng's vision was entirely filled by the White Bone Scroll.
He felt a chill surge across his entire body, the surroundings once again becoming the grim white bone land, with fierce ghosts issuing silent roars, corpses crawling toward him!
He would die, he would truly die!
The great crisis sensation between life and death engulfed him, he yearned to speak, to cry out for help, yet could only utter 'ho ho' sounds!
The grim skeletons had reached before him.
"Calm your mind, observe yourself as a decaying corpse, see yourself as white bones, become one with them!"
A thunderous voice pierced into his mind.
Zhang Fusheng instinctively followed the words, attempting to envision himself as a grim skeleton, becoming one with these creatures, but he failed.
Poor enlightenment.
The grim skeletons lunged forward, engulfing him.
......
At noon.
The students in the last row were the first to awaken.
When all the students from the second row onward, drenched in sweat, broke free from the nightmare-like illusion and bid farewell one by one,
the spacious practice room was left with only the old Hall Master, Niu Dali, and Zhang Fusheng, who sat alone in the first row, his expression pained and struggling, still submerged in purgatory.
"Let's go."
The old Hall Master stood up, dusting off his backside, indifferent to the brave young man who remained submerged.
Niu Dali scratched his head with a grin:
"Master, I warned him not to sit in the front row."
The closer one sat to the front, the more easily they were influenced by the master's 'spirit,' making the illusions more real and terrifying, causing a longer immersion—thus, the veteran students always sat as far back as possible.
The old Hall Master chuckled:
"If next time, he still dares to sit in the first row, regardless of the talent, it at least proves his mindset is good, hmm, just like you."
Niu Dali grinned:
"Maybe this student's talent is also formidable, facing the White Bone Scroll directly for the first time, and just like me, comprehending the Entry Level contemplation and reaching the [Outer Aspect] level?"
The old Hall Master snorted:
"Where are there so many geniuses?"
Saying so, he slowly walked out of the practice room:
"Let's go, when this little fellow's willpower collapses, he will naturally wake from the immersion."
"Yes, Master." Niu Dali promptly followed, no longer looking at the new student.
Every so often, there would always be an ignorant and fearless newcomer who, against advice, sat in the first row and those students either dropped out or became permanent residents of the last row.
Customary sight.
The practice room was utterly empty, with time slipping away bit by bit.
Zhang Fusheng still curled up on the meditation mat, expression pained.
Still submerged.
In his senses, the dense mass of bones encompassed him, one after another gnawing at his skin, flesh, sinews, and viscera...
Gnaw off a little, grow a little.
As if an endless, never-ending Lingchi punishment.
"No wonder no one wants to sit in front..."
He countless times neared collapse, but each time his self-will and spirit approached the brink of collapse, the [Contract] in his brow's ancestral acupoint would faintly tremble.
He would then once again awaken, continuing to submerge and endure torment.
Time continued to pass until the sun set in the west, and Yutu hung in the sky.