The Great Zhihui

The sun shone upon a clearing in the middle of the forest where three figures stood in a triangular formation. One was a wrinkled old man whose appearance made simply standing look like quite a feat.

Though emaciated, his body held an undercurrent of power and wisdom, resembling an old, towering thousand-year tree. With his lengthy gray hair and beard taking up most of his face, one could truly liken him to a gray, withering tree.

A stark contrast with the two saplings standing before him. Who, although carrying tired and weary expressions, radiated life and energy. "Alright, now, one thousand more spear thrusts," the old man said, spinning the wooden staff in hand.

"Master, I don't think I can continue anymore," Ai Min stammered as she gasped for air, bent over with her hands resting on her knees, trying to stay upright.

After almost a year of diligent meditation and practice, she succeeded in opening her meridians and stepped onto the path of cultivation. Now a second-level early-stage Qi condensation cultivator.

Compared to other kids her age, she could be called a genius not seen in a hundred years—to reach this level at the age of 8 was remarkable. Although this was not without the help of the pills and other assistance the old man had given her.

"Alright, you've worked hard," he complimented her before reaching into his beard and throwing a small leather pouch her way.

"Take those pills and meditate; focus on drawing in the energy around you; and remember, patience." His tone was soothing, like a warm lake, almost as if he were speaking to his granddaughter.

She bowed deeply, saying, "En, Master is as generous as always; this disciple will never forget this kindness." With a warm smile on her face and a calm and gentle voice, she picked up the wooden staff from the floor before walking deeper into the forest.

'She's a natural bootlicker.' Zhihui thought while clicking his tongue.

Between the two of them, the favorite disciple became as clear as day. Had it been him who had voiced tiredness, the response would have been a kiss from the old man's staff.

A painful one.

Not only that, the pills and cultivation resources the old man gave her, he didn't even get a chance to smell them, not to mention receiving his own.

 Wearing a wide smile and a puppy-like expression, Zhihui said, "I think a break would be good."

"Stop thinking." Cutting him off, the old man plunged the wooden staff in the young boy's direction.

Foreseeing such a development, the raggedly dressed boy clenched the staff in hand tightly before lunging forward and deflecting the blow with a sweep.

"Such discrimination. Shame on me for expecting anything more from a geezer with a heart made from ice."

"You're comparing yourself to your junior sister? When did I get another female disciple?" The old man retorted, releasing his left hand from the middle of the staff before thrusting the staff forward with his right hand, maximizing his reach.

In Zhihui's view, the tip of the staff suddenly enlarged, closing in on his face for a kiss. Leaning back, he narrowly escaped its embrace.

Exhaustion and fear streaming down his face, the ocean-eyed young boy wore a silly grin before saying, "Hmph! Loli-loving geezer."

"What?!" Although he had never heard the term before and had no clue as to what it meant, anger welled up inside the old man as he shouted, his staff adorning a thick gray fog a second later.

His eyes flashed with gray brilliance, and he dashed in the direction of the black-haired young boy, who had begun sprinting away the second the words left his mouth.

"Why are you so angry? Although very questionable, morally wrong, and well, sick, I, being an imperfect human, will not judge your strange tastes." Zhihui exclaimed in a tone unbefitting of someone running for their life.

When the old man heard this, his blood boiled. He had no idea what the young boy was saying, but his keen intuition told him he was being insulted.

 "Angry? No, my cute and loving disciple, how can I be angry at you? Stop running so we can sit down and chat; I'm interested in this...'loli' you speak of." The old man concealed the anger within and wore a faint smile, his raspy and gentle voice giving him a harmless demeanor.

"I can see that." Zhihui sprinted even faster.

With a loud harrumph, the old man halted. He had brought his cultivation down to the 4th level of Qi condensation, a feat that very few could accomplish at his level. Otherwise, he would have caught up to Zhihui in less than a breath.

The old man raised the staff above his head before pulling and leaning back slightly.

His movements did not escape the young boy's quick glance behind him. Zhihui began to zig-zag in between trees, making random turns and quick stops.

"Futile," the old man whispered with a smirk, the wooden staff rocketing out of his palm in the next second, whistling through the air, its appearance like a long arrow made from fog.

"Damn it!" Zhihui spun around and pointed his open palm to the staff, two arms length away.

His spiritual energy quickly plummeted as Qi enveloped his palm in layers of gray before coalescing into a ghost-like palm the size of an adult head and shooting outwards.

"Wandering beggar arts—Rich Beggar"

The ghost-like palm and spectral-like spear met, and two thunderous booms echoed out, one originating from the collision between both forces and the second coming from the staff smashing into Zhihui staff.

Gritting his teeth, Zhihui poured his remaining spiritual energy into his arms, attempting to stop the staff from pushing him back.

He succeeded.

The old man's wooden staff lay on the brown earth, his own staff falling from his numb hands soon after.

"Heheh," Zhihui chuckled slowly with a maniacal expression, getting out of the tree trunk his figure had been imprinted in. "Loli-lover, how is the taste of my soles?! Beg, and the great Zhihui might take his foot from your head."

The sky went dark, a shadow enveloping the entire forest.

"–hmm?" Zhihui raised his head, "This.." He stammered, gazing above with owl-wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

Dwarfing the skies, descended a monumental gray palm with undulations of a power he had never seen before, surpassing his move that was mere feet in size. 

It was a palm spanning over a hundred miles.

Zhihui's agape eyes reflected the fingerprints of the boundless ghost-like palm. Shock and awe filled his expression.

It was at this moment that he realized he f*cked up.

"..damn it." With those words, he closed his eyes and awaited his doom.

However, time went by with nothing happening.

Gathering courage, he slowly opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the old man's frail and withering palm.

"That big mouth of yours never runs out of energy."

"100,000 more spear thrusts,"