I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 119 Should I also learn martial arts?

A circle represents a person, and the "Sun Constellation" is marked in the upper center of the circle.

A curve extends from the Sun's position, gliding around the right arm to the palm, and then extending to the object held in the hand.

"The final cycle of the four-stage breathing technique." The old man pushed the piece of paper towards him:

"You've gotten used to focusing your ether on the Sun Constellation during the breath-holding phase, haven't you?"

"right."

"The warming and aging process is done during this stage."

Mr. Hutton drew a line on the diagram.

"While holding your breath, concentrate the ether in the Sun Throne. During the last exhale, guide the excess ether out of the Sun Throne and down the inside of your right arm to your palm."

"Place your palm against the lamp body and inject the ether evenly into it."

"How much should be injected?"

"Not too much is needed," the old man said. "A margin at the end of one cycle is enough."

"The key is consistency and uniformity."

"Do it every day, with the same amount of force each time, just like watering a tree."

Too much water will cause flooding, too little water will cause drought, just the right amount is fine.

Richard folded the piece of paper and put it into his notebook.

"Nourish it daily, and keep at it."

"Once your microcirculation is stable enough and you've completed the empirical studies, you can start signing your name around that time."

The old man smiled and said, "You'll be pleasantly surprised by this Sphinx lamp."

He didn't explain what the surprise was.

Mr. Hutton reached out and picked up the gargoyle again.

"What's the name of the spell sealed within the inscription on this gargoyle?"

"Stone armor".

Mr. Hutton read out the name and nodded.

"The Middle Ages were a period of time within the Church."

"Have you heard of it?"

"I've heard of it, but I've never seen an actual inscription."

He put the gargoyle back on the table:

"Low-level practical techniques are not highly valued in the academic system and have limited theoretical value."

Scholars must write innovative academic papers; topics like "Why didn't workers fall to their deaths three hundred years ago?" won't get you promoted.

"Are you planning to train?"

"They're already practicing."

Richard thought about it and decided to lay his cards on the table.

In any case, the gargoyle had already been fully displayed to Mr. Hutton, and the inscription had been touched by the old man from head to toe.

There's no point in hiding it anymore.

Mr. Hutton nodded.

"You're quite alert."

"Knowing that you can't completely trust anyone, after you get something, study it yourself first, and don't rush to tell everyone about the results."

There was no criticism in the old man's tone.

"Making a living behind the curtain, that habit can be a lifesaver."

He stood up from his chair and came out from behind the table.

"Stand up."

Richard stood up.

Mr. Hutton extended his right hand and placed it an inch above the back of Richard's right hand.

"Follow the procedure you are practicing and proceed to the second stage—the guiding and covering."

Richard closed his eyes and initiated a quadruple breathing technique.

The ether slid down the inside of my right arm to my palm and began to penetrate the surface of my skin.

"stop."

Mr. Hutton's voice rang out.

Richard stopped his lifting motion.

"Your rhythm is too fast," the old man said. "The transmission of ether from the Sun sign to the palm should be in sync with your breathing rhythm."

Richard readjusted the pace.

During the second induction, he deliberately altered the speed of ether conduction to match his breathing rhythm.

There was an immediate reaction on the skin of my palm.

Richard tapped the nail plate on the back of his right hand, and the nail made a crisp sound like porcelain.

"How are you feeling?" Mr. Hutton asked.

"Thicker than before." Richard flipped his right hand over.

"The density is also much higher. Before, the armor was just a layer of wet mud that was pasted on, but now it's at least pottery."

"The difference between fired pottery and unfired clay lies here."

Mr. Hutton walked back to the table, sat down, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

"But don't get too excited yet."

As soon as he finished speaking, the nail plate on Richard's right hand began to crumble from the wrist bone.

"Your microcirculation conduction efficiency isn't high enough," Mr. Hutton commented. "But you can start practicing the tactile rhythm."

"Don't rush into full-body nail covering; first, practice thick nail covering in specific areas until you're proficient."

"If it can stably cover the entire arm and last for more than 30 seconds without dissipating, and the covering does not require a gargoyle as a casting medium, then you have completely mastered it."

Mr. Hutton thought for a moment.

"The inscription should contain more detailed operating procedures. If you practice according to the instructions for a month or two, you should be able to armor your entire arm without any problems."

"I haven't specifically studied this technique, so I can only guide you this far."

Richard stuffed the gargoyle back into the bag.

Mr. Hutton watched him pack his things, then suddenly spoke up again.

"Once you've mastered partial armor plating, you can learn some basic fighting frameworks to use in conjunction with armor plating."

The old man put the teacup back on the table and stroked his beard.

"I also have some experience in combat sports."

"Scholars are not just people who sit behind a desk and flip through books, Richard."

"When necessary, scholars also need to use their fists to protect their desks."

Richard looked on with a puzzled yet impressive expression.

He looked at the elderly gentleman in front of him, who had gray hair, a thin build, and always wore a suit jacket, and tried hard to imagine the old man throwing a punch in his mind.

Mr. Hutton gave a few more details about nurturing the rare object, then waved his hand.

That's all for today, go back now.

"Thank you, sir."

Richard slung his backpack over his shoulder and glanced back as he walked to the door.

The old gentleman had reopened the application for the rare item, and his pen had circled a signature in one of the columns.

That circle probably means "withdrawal of application".

After the office door closed, Mr. Hutton shifted his position in his chair and sat up straight again.

The corridor was empty, and outside the window, the snowflakes had turned into flakes and were drifting slowly.

"Scholars are not just people who sit behind a desk and flip through books."

He found it somewhat amusing when he recalled those words.

When I was young, I was certainly not the kind of person who would sit quietly behind a desk.

During his initial phase as a newcomer, he tried all three paths.

At that time, he felt that he could learn anything and should learn anything.

The world behind the curtain is so vast, wouldn't it be a waste to only take one path?

My mentor at the time was my college advisor; I was an academic and majored in ritual speech.

At the age of nineteen, he came into contact with the Hidden Direction.

In the southern suburbs of the capital, there lived a sealing master named Russell, a member of a folk guild, who had some connection with his mentor.

Hutton, through his mentor's recommendation, studied the basics of sealing with Russell.

His learning wasn't bad; this is how Russell described it back then:

"If you focus, you can become a practitioner in the covert field within five years."

At the age of twenty-two, he came into contact with the hunter's path.

There was a retired military officer named Graham in the northern suburbs of the capital.

He was from a branch of the Graham family. After retiring from the military, he used the family's resources to run a gun shop and occasionally took on a few apprentices.

Hutton studied the art of burning blood there for almost a year.

He survived being soaked in ice water and he survived hyperventilation.

But he fainted twice on the training field due to muscle spasms.

Old Graham looked at him and shook his head.

"You're not cut out for this."

Hutton was not convinced and gritted his teeth and persevered for another two months.

After he fainted again, old Graham dragged him off the training field:

"Kid, your bone density isn't high enough, and your muscle explosiveness isn't strong enough either. These are genetic; you can't train them."

Hutton didn't listen at the time.

He persevered for another six months, but after that, he couldn't hold on any longer.

The intense training he underwent daily caused various chronic problems to appear in his body, including coughing, muscle aches, and persistent low-grade fever.

At the age of twenty-three, he withdrew from old Graham's company.

Upon returning to the university, his advisor called him into his office.

The tutor didn't get angry or blame him; he simply laid out all the lessons he had missed over the years on the table.

"It's not too late to make up for it now."

Hutton spent several years catching up on his missed lessons.

During this time, Russell also approached him once, asking if he wanted to continue learning the sealing technique.

Hutton shook his head.

"Not learning anymore?"

“If I go back to learning that, I’ll be completely finished,” Hutton said. “I have to focus on being a scholar.”

Russell sighed: "If you had thought that way five years ago, you would be a professional now."

Hutton did not answer.

He took the books about sealing home and continued to practice on his own, but no longer focused on the secret path.

At the age of twenty-seven, he became a practitioner.

The academic track focuses on ritual studies and inscription.

Before reaching the age of thirty and the limit for delayed graduation, he completed several landmark achievements in his professional career, publishing two papers in the college weekly.

But he never made a breakthrough as he went on to advance.

The threshold of "minor expertise" has been a hurdle for him for over a decade.

Every attempt failed, and the reason was always the same: my etheric foundation was not pure enough.

He's dabbled in all three paths: scholar, recluse, and hunter.

The breathing technique shift left a stagnation in his body, preventing him from achieving deep resonance in a single direction.

The mentor later remarked with emotion.

"When you were young, you focused on one thing, but now you probably do more than that."

Hutton did not refute this at the time.

What the mentor said is true.

Having passed the age of forty, Hutton officially accepted the fact that he had stopped at being a professional.

After his mentor passed away, he left the capital and returned to his hometown of Briston, where he took a teaching position at Greenwood High School.

The board of directors gave him a private office and the privilege of being absent twice a month.

And that special bookshelf on the third floor of the library, let him take the lead as a guide.

Briston is a quiet city, and Greenwood is a quiet school.

This is a place where a greedy guy who stops at being a professional can slowly grow old, distributing all the random things he's learned in his life to worthy young people.

He can still repair the seal because he has studied the secret arts.

He can also teach combat skills, because he has trained in the hunter role.

These are all byproducts of the wrong path he took back then, which have now become his additional capital as a guide.

If my mentor were still alive and saw how I'm teaching my students now, he'd probably criticize me like this:

"Hutton, you're only a half-baked amateur yourself, how dare you try to teach others?"

Richard is much stronger than he was back then.

He was younger than I was when I first started, but he knew from the beginning which path I wanted to take.

Unlike Hutton back then, who wanted to grab everything he saw.