Chapter Nine: Perfect Foundation, Peerless Furnace

The second day.

At the crow of the rooster, Chen Yushu rose from his bed. Though he woke early, someone else had beaten him to it. Stepping out of his room, he noticed several apprentices in the courtyard practicing their stance techniques and boxing forms.

The stance practice was none other than the Apothecary King’s Stance, the foundational technique taught uniformly by the Liu Family Pharmacy. Compared to his own awkward attempts, the others moved with far greater proficiency; each motion was fluid and transitions seamless.

He observed, too, that practicing this stance was indeed exhausting. Within moments, some apprentices were drenched in sweat, panting heavily from exertion. Yet among them, there were those who performed exceptionally well. One apprentice, appearing to be about fifteen or sixteen, completed an entire round of the stance drills with only a light sheen of sweat. After a brief pause, he transitioned directly into a set of boxing forms.

His boxing was vigorous and forceful, at times ferocious like a tiger, at others swift as a pigeon; the interplay of movement and stillness produced a humming sound that lingered in the air.

“That’s Zhang Ruyun, one of the top five apprentices in our pharmacy,” Li Hu said, approaching with a look of envy. “His martial skills are excellent, his stance practice has reached a minor mastery, and he’s begun learning boxing. The manager values him highly, assigning him duties in decocting and dispensing medicines. If fortune favors him, he might even learn the healing arts and become a physician.”

“Minor mastery in stance practice and already learning boxing? How many years has he studied?” Chen Yushu couldn’t help but glance at Zhang Ruyun.

He was aware that, although the Liu Family Pharmacy appeared to be a simple apothecary, it had its own hierarchy and strict rules. Each status carried its own standing—from the manager at the top, followed by physicians, front and back courtyard supervisors, decoction workers, and so forth.

Even among apprentices, there were distinctions. Those assigned to miscellaneous duties in the back courtyard typically washed, dried, and cut medicinal herbs, or worked in the pharmacy’s fields. Others assisted in the kitchen or stables, cleaning and helping as needed.

Apprentices with higher status worked directly in the pharmacy, dispensing and decocting medicines or apprenticing under physicians. Zhang Ruyun, clearly serving in the shop, was a medicine-dispensing apprentice, perhaps even a decoction apprentice, his standing far above theirs.

“Three years! In just three years, reaching minor mastery in stance practice is truly remarkable talent.”

According to Master Qian, achieving minor mastery within five years was considered passable. If an apprentice failed to do so after five years, the pharmacy would expel them, forcing them to seek their own path. There were also requirements for beginners like themselves: they must reach the introductory stage of stance practice within three months. Otherwise, they would be deemed untalented and dismissed.

Li Hu’s face paled as he spoke. He’d only been at the pharmacy for a month and had yet to reach the introductory stage in the Apothecary King’s Stance, so the pressure weighed heavily on him.

“Aren’t we just a pharmacy? Why so many rules?” Chen Yushu asked, puzzled.

“They say it’s the higher-ups’ orders, and it’s always been this way,” Li Hu replied, shaking his head.

“Master Qian is here.” Suddenly, a voice called out. Chen Yushu saw a burly man approaching from the front courtyard—Qian Qian, the instructor assigned by the pharmacy to teach martial arts.

With a detached expression, he entered the courtyard, glanced at everyone, and said, “I heard there’s a new apprentice here. Come, I’ll teach you martial arts. If your stance practice hasn’t reached the introductory stage, or if you have questions, you may come for guidance. Ten taels of silver guarantees entry-level instruction; a single lesson costs only one tael.”

Upon hearing this, Chen Yushu hurried forward. Li Hu hesitated, but ultimately didn’t step up—the fee for a single lesson was exorbitant for apprentices like them. Yet some gritted their teeth and went ahead; they were all recent additions to the pharmacy, desperate not to be expelled within three months, especially after paying dearly for their positions.

“Stand properly!” Qian Qian glanced at Chen Yushu and the two other apprentices who stepped forward, nodded, and said, “The Apothecary King’s Stance is our pharmacy’s foundational strength-training method. Though basic, it’s said to have been created by a grandmaster—the Apothecary King himself. Its rank is high and its depth considerable, far superior to the stance practices taught in many martial halls. Every move, every breath, every pause and transition has meaning. Even after mastering it, I wouldn’t dare claim full understanding.”

Notably, those who train their bodies with this stance are generally far stronger than those using other methods. Even at minor mastery, their strength and vitality surpass others by a wide margin. Rumor has it that, when perfected, it can refine the body to flawless purity and forge an extraordinary foundation.

As he spoke, his gaze settled on Chen Yushu and his companions. Chen Yushu, being new, was frail and lacked any foundation, but rules were rules—he had to be taught. The other two, Lü Liang and Xue Ming, were at different stages. Lü Liang had nearly two months of study and had already paid ten taels of silver, with Qian Qian promising he’d reach the introductory stage within three months. Xue Ming, nearly three months in, had just paid one tael for guidance.

Without hesitation, Qian Qian began, “You must already be familiar with the moves of the Apothecary King’s Stance. Now, I’ll teach you the breathing technique. It’s not as simple as written in the manual. Each pause, rotation, interval, and match with the movements requires careful instruction, step by step. Reading the manual alone—it’s impossible, even for a prodigy.”

Chen Yushu suddenly understood. He’d spent much time experimenting after receiving the manual, never succeeding, and had blamed his lack of talent. Now he saw there was another reason. Indeed, it made sense; a true teaching is in a word, while a false teaching fills volumes. The stance was precious, and to prevent its spread, naturally something crucial would be concealed.

Chen Yushu had pored over the manual countless times, increasing even his “reading” experience on his attribute panel, memorizing all thirty-six moves by heart. He quickly executed the first move.

Lü Liang and Xue Ming did likewise. Qian Qian began his explanation: every breath, every pause, which motion matched which breathing method. Chen Yushu followed the instructions, and within moments, felt a marked difference.

As his movements and breathing fell into sync, he felt a tingling sensation from his feet upward—calves, torso, arms, head—his whole body buzzing, as if a thousand ants crawled under his skin.

The sensation was entirely new.

Had he mastered the first move?