63 To Carve a Chicken

Within the illusory world, it was the next day for Li Yangyi. He had realized, the time rested would pass instantly, with only a breaths' time of darkness enveloping him. However, if he passed the time like that, he'd not garner any spiritual energy, as such, there was not much incentive on using this function often.

The boy pretended to yawn, then got out of his bed, making his way down. There, a tantalizing smell wafted throughout the living room, straight into his nose. At the table, he saw a bowl of rice, with some fish and veggies. Fairly balanced. He wolfed everything down with relish; if there was one thing that he liked about the chef, it was his cooking. Not even these so-called experts in within the family kitchen could compare, it was simply sublime.

After he finished, he realized the owner of this house was nowhere to be seen. He thought that maybe the man was just in the bathroom, but it appeared he wasn't present at all, judging by the silence here, that is.

Li Yangyi stood up and sneakily opened the backdoor. His eyes were greeted with clear skies, a glaring sun, and a field full of crops of which he did not know their specifications. Rice, or maybe wheat? He really could not tell. After all, his father never bothered to teach him the makings of a farmer.

The boy glanced around, searching for any people, but no one showed themselves. In the first place, not many people resided within the village, which totally differed from the usually bustling City of Extended Delight. The air here was also fresh, and the feeling of nature and unthrotten streets had a rejuvenating feel to it. He begun finding a liking to the countryside. Maybe, even without the Store of Fates, he might take a vacation outside to refine his mind and mental stability. A daoists mind was as important as his body when it comes to the road of cultivation, after all.

"Though he told me to learn myself, I have no idea where to begin." Li Yangyi pulled up his sleeves. He breathed out, then took a horse-stance, with his two fists balled and stretched out. "For now, let's go with the usual routine." He moved slowly, but gracefully, every step with intent, as he changed from one fighting stance to another. It did not take long for him to sweat, as little droplets rolled down his nose.

What he practiced right now was a well-known exercise within the empire. It was one of the most common cultivation manuals, the Breeze of the West, it had been named. It was the foundation of this empires' cultivation system. Even children and elderly performed it, just to stay in shape. The general idea was simple: As one moved in a circle, they'd switch between different stances. Though the beginning was easy, each step would grow exponentially harder, until one inevitably breaks and starts over. Li Yangyi had heard that his was also a popular form of punishment for prisoners, though he did not believe that rumor-why would anyone deliberately strengthen evildoers? It made no sense.

After half an hour, the boys' breathing turned unstable, and his limbs started wobbling. He spat out a mouthful of turbid air, then slumped down. "Damn, so I can still only reach the 16th step," the boy lamented. The rumor went that there are exactly 100 steps. He was far away from reaching that goal. Still, he was not discouraged. Instead, he felt happy. This world was full of Spiritual Energy. Even if the world wasn't real, the progress he did undoubtedly stayed with him. "I wonder if I can get muscle soreness in this world, " he talked with himself then chuckled.

"Is this the martial art you base your cultivation around?" A voice suddenly resounded from Li Yangyis' left, startling him greatly. He immediately turned around, only to see the chef sitting on a tree stump, watching him attentively. "It's pretty lame."

Li Yangyis' eye twitched. He huffed and flung his robe, returning to his exercises. "What would you know? If it was that bad, why would everyone in the empire use it?"

"If everyone uses it, how could it possibly be good?" The chef rebuked, while rubbing his chin. "Aren't you from a rich family? Don't they have any kind of manual or art that is a little more special."

"We do, but I'd have to travel to the main family. It's not as easy as you think," Li Yangyi grumbled. "And even then, it would only be useful after I reach the 5th stage, which could be several years, or even decades."

The chef louldy laughed, his voice grating at Li Yangyis' ears. "Is that so? I guess we all have our problems, don't we?" He pushed himself up and approached Li Yangyi, who was painstakingly recreating the 3rd pose of the Breeze to the West manual. "Enough aerobics, come with me."

"What do you mean," the boy asked him.

"Didn't you want to learn the martial arts of the village? It's not as shabby and outdated like your little endurance game," the chef explained. He twirled with his gray beard while doing so. "I might just be a geezer with one arm, but teaching you should still be easy enough."

Li Yangyis' eyes widened and he grew agitated, though he promptly composed himself. With a wary face, he asked, "I thought you told me to learn by myself?"

"You are. But somebody has to at least show you how everything works, right? Don't always be so doubtful, let's go." The old man nudged him and practically dragged him away.

If it were his father, he'd never have dared to talk back. The chefs authorital tone seemed to be lacking, Li Yangyi told himself, a little proud. But then again, his father probably would not have been so patient with him either. No, in the first place, why was he thinking about such unnecessary things in the first place?

Interestingly, the chef brought him back inside, instead of some kind of hidden underground base. "Open the upper left drawer please," the old man spoke, while brushing his hair back with his movable arm.

Li Yangyi attentively followed his instructions. Inside, he found a few knifes, which appeared almost unused. He wondered, where these newly brought?

"Pass me one," the chef spoke. And again, Li Yangyi followed. He gave him a knife with a long and sharp blade. Quite honestly, it appeared rather brittle and certainly could not be used in fighting or killing, as such he was interested to see where this was going.

The chef dipped the knife inside a basin of still water. He swept through it, several times, creating small ripples that crashed against the wooden walls. However, no water splashed out. Afterward, he dried off its blade with a white cloth and nodded with satisfaction. His next step was opening the drawers, and at that moment, Li Yangyi felt a squall of aromatic herbs and seasonings envelop him, almost making him sneeze. The chef reached deep within, until he took out a fresh chicken carcass, dripping in blood, and wrapped tightly in some fabric. He placed his hand on the bone, he pressed on the skin, he pinched the reddish tendons, and he cut through the flesh. Every noise he made, never fell out of rhythm, and by the time Li Yangyi realized what he was looking at, the chef had already completed in deboning the chicken.

Still mesmerized, Li Yangyi spoke. "That was pretty incredible." He gave his heartfelt compliments.

"Thank you, youngster. It appears you still have some taste." The chef nodded.

"But. . . after we are done eating, can you teach me the martial arts?" He asked, a little confused.

"That was it."

"Huh?" Li Yangyi tilted his head, afraid he heard wrong. "Sorry, what?"

"That was it."

The young man popped a vein on his forehead, as he shouted with a seething voice. "Don't be ridiculous, you were clearly just preparing lunch!" Damn, this world really was full of ruthless scammers after all!

"Well, I can't deny that." The chef spoke honestly. "But if you can't even understand that, you have no hope in learning the martial arts, let alone pursue the way of the dao."

"What are you spouting," Li Yangi said while growing increasingly agitated. "This is a textbook scam! You aren going to tell me about some kind of 10-step guide next right? I admit, your skill with the blade is incredible, but it has nothing to do with strength."

"You seem to have a misconception. Who said that the Dao had anything to do with strength," the chefs voice abruptly grew louder, surprising the young man. "When you dedicated yourself to the heavens, it is not about might or skill. Just as you practiced to punch a thousand times, I have learned to carve ten-thousands of times. When I started butchering, all I saw was the chicken. Now, I do not need to see anything at all, and the chicken, even if alive, will not realize it has been carved. An apprentice wears a knife out in 2 years, a chef in 10, while my knife, that has been used in decades, have no chip in them at all! So it is you that should not speak nonsense."

"I . . ." Li Yangyi was at a loss for words. His heart inexplicably beat faster.

"Don't you get it, youngster," the chef spoke, his voice mild once more. "The dao is within everything. It encompasses us all. You take chicken and debone it, but instead you learn a Way of Life." He patted Li Yangyis' shoulder. "First, you should try grasping this principle." He paused. "Oh, also, can you marinate the chicken in soysauce, I am sure it will taste delectable."