Chapter Twelve: Tremendous Changes

“Did I overdo it?” Xiaoshan looked at his own hand and muttered to himself.

He glanced at the mural, removed it from his chest, sat on the bed, and picked up the mural in his hand, puzzled. He couldn’t understand how such a small mural could trigger such a strong reaction in his body—he had managed to leap straight from the floor to the wall.

Xiaoshan smiled as he looked at his hand, then dashed out of the room, eager to test his newfound strength.

Outside, he eyed the trees with a grin. Gathering his energy in his lower abdomen, he drew a deep breath, clenched his fists, and, imitating the moves from the mural, spread his legs apart. His muscles tensed, veins bulged. A gentle breeze drifted by, leaves slowly floated down, and a green leaf happened to land on his fist. With a solid “thud!” his fist struck the trunk; the branches quivered, green leaves fluttered to the ground.

When Xiaoshan withdrew his fist, he saw the trunk had caved in slightly, exactly within the range of his punch. He recalled how his arm had been entangled by those branches earlier; now, the skin was smooth, showing no trace of injury. It was only yesterday, yet the wound had miraculously healed, not a single scar remained.

Xiaoshan looked back at the house, smiling to himself, thinking this must be a great blessing. He visualized the moves from the mural; his fists and feet moved with such force that leaves swirled around him, as if his arms were guiding them in flight.

From a distance, he resembled a martial master. His hands moved fluidly, leaves followed in their wake, and as his punches grew faster, his movements became more adept. A bead of sweat dropped onto a floating leaf.

Leaves gathered around him, and as his moves changed, more and more leaves fell from the branches, forming a whirlwind.

From afar, a figure approached, watching Xiaoshan’s movements in silent fascination, a smile playing on their lips.

Xiaoshan inhaled deeply, drawing the surrounding air into his abdomen. His belly slowly expanded, both hands dropped, and his breath flowed out from his nostrils.

The breeze passed by, the leaves settled to the ground, as if the previous spectacle had never existed.

Standing in the courtyard, Xiaoshan felt a change within his body, most evident in the sweat trickling down his forehead. He wiped it away and smiled, utterly satisfied.

“Xiaoshan, are you practicing?” Ruoxi, who had been watching from afar, saw Xiaoshan pause and hurried over to inquire.

“Yes! I tried a few moves from the mural in the bedroom and it feels wonderful!” Xiaoshan replied, smiling as he watched Ruoxi’s lively figure. He truly felt his body had become much lighter.

“The moves from the mural?” Ruoxi raised her hand to her forehead, as if searching her memory.

“The moves from the mural? What about them?” Xiaoshan didn’t think the mural was anything special—it was just in the guest room, meant for visitors.

“That’s right, the mural!” Ruoxi’s eyes brightened as she remembered something. She said to Xiaoshan, “My father once told me that the moves in the west wing’s mural and those in the main room form a set. It’s a breathing technique passed down in our family. He mentioned it when I was very young, so I’ve forgotten most of it, but I remember it’s supposed to enhance control over one’s body!”

Hearing Ruoxi’s words, Xiaoshan reflected and realized that, indeed, when practicing certain moves, he’d felt as if the sequence suddenly broke off, leaving him uncomfortable. So the master bedroom and the guest room murals were a set!

“So that’s why I felt uncomfortable at a certain point—turns out the two are connected!” Xiaoshan exclaimed in sudden realization.

“Oh, you distracted me! My father just asked me to call you for dinner. The dishes are plentiful!” Ruoxi remarked, thinking her father seemed in unusually good spirits today, preparing a feast.

“Your father invited me for dinner? Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” Just yesterday, Lin Feng had met him with a stern face. How could he suddenly change his demeanor and invite Xiaoshan to dine today? Xiaoshan’s first instinct was that he’d misheard—he still remembered the pain from yesterday!

“No mistake. Father had Aunt Mei prepare a whole array of dishes—it all looks delicious.” Ruoxi stuck out her tongue, clearly eager for the meal.

“He’s not going to invite me only to beat me up again, is he?” Xiaoshan took a step back, fear evident in his expression.

“Don’t worry, Father genuinely wants you to enjoy a good meal. He won’t hurt you! No need to be afraid,” Ruoxi said, taking Xiaoshan’s hand and leading him toward the dining room.