Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

At 11:00 AM on May 15th, at the Nancheng Long-Distance Bus Station.

A dusty, gray bus slowly pulled into the station. The doors opened, and the first person to jump off was Cang Tianci. Next came Chen Gang, followed by Zhou Zhenhua, the team leader and coach from Anshi Sports School, and several other participating athletes.

"A gift from heaven!"

A familiar voice pierced through the noise. Cang Tianci looked in the direction of the sound and saw his elder brother, Cang Lifeng, striding through the crowd.

"Big brother!" Cang Tianci went up to him, and the two brothers hugged each other tightly.

Cang Lifeng released his younger brother and looked him up and down. In the month since they last met, his brother had lost some weight, but his eyes were calmer than the last time they met. However, within that calmness, he noticed the faint dark circles under his eyes and the weariness behind his smile. He wanted to ask, but in front of so many people, especially Principal Zhou, he couldn't ask too much. He simply patted Tianci's shoulder and asked, "Were you tired on the way?"

"I'm not tired. Brother, you've lost weight."

Cang Lifeng smiled but didn't reply, his gaze lingering on his younger brother's face for a moment longer. Just then, Zhou Zhenhua walked over, and Cang Lifeng quickly went to greet him, shaking his hands: "Senior brother, thank you for your hard work. Tianci is so grateful for your care."

Zhou Zhenhua laughed and said, "Tianci is still the most obedient and hardworking one; he's a promising talent. Lifeng, it's been two years since we last saw each other, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it's been over two years. Senior brother, you've gotten old."

"You little brat, you bring this up the moment we meet?" Zhou Zhenhua punched him lightly and said, "Come on, let's find a place to eat and chat."

The group walked out of the station chatting and laughing.

Inside the restaurant, several people sat around a table. Zhou Zhenhua and Cang Lifeng chatted about their experiences over the past two years, about the martial arts school, and about Tianci's training. After a few rounds of drinks, Zhou Zhenhua raised his glass and said seriously, "Lifeng, Tianci is the most ambitious and hardworking kid I've ever met. He has to cope with the high-intensity studies in the junior class and the high-intensity training at the sports school. He pushes himself too hard. I've advised him several times, but he won't listen. I'm worried that his body can't handle it. However, it seems that he can still pull through. With his strength, he should have no problem in the preliminaries of this selection competition, and he has a 70% chance of winning the finals."

Upon hearing this, Tianci lowered his head and remained silent.

Cang Lifeng glanced at his younger brother, recalling the weariness he had glimpsed during their earlier meeting, and his worry deepened. He nodded and said, "Senior brother is right. My younger brother is very stubborn; once he's made up his mind, nothing can change it."

He turned to Tianci, his gaze carrying the scrutiny typical of an elder brother: "Tianci, did you hear that? You should listen to Principal Zhou; he's doing it for your own good. You might fool others with your expression, but you can't fool me."

"Mm." Tianci nodded in response, but avoided his elder brother's gaze.

Cang Lifeng added, "I probably won't be able to attend tomorrow's preliminary round. My construction site is going through a crucial final inspection these days, and I really can't leave. However, I'll definitely be there for the final round the day after tomorrow."

Cang Tianci felt a slight pang of disappointment, but he quickly smiled and said, "Brother, you go ahead with your work. It's just the preliminary round; I can handle it myself."

Cang Lifeng keenly sensed Tianci's disappointment and added, "Xiangyang and Xiaohua will watch your match the whole time. They'll keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone."

Cang Tianci nodded and took a bite of rice. He was still disappointed, but he didn't let anyone see it.

After the meal, Cang Lifeng saw his younger brother, Tianci, to the entrance of the guesthouse. He hugged Tianci tightly and whispered, "Little brother, I believe you can do it!"

He released his grip, but stared into Tianci's eyes once more. In the afternoon sunlight, the dark circles under Tianci's eyes were even more pronounced than they had been at the train station.

"Tianci, I was just about to say that you don't look well. It's not just because you didn't sleep well. You can't push yourself too hard in the future. Health is the foundation of everything."

"Brother, I understand. I'll be careful."

Cang Lifeng stared at him for a few seconds. Finally, he sighed, patted his younger brother's shoulder forcefully, and said, "I hope so. Go on, get some rest."

He stood there, watching his younger brother's figure disappear into the guesthouse, his brow furrowing even more deeply. He knew that look in his eyes all too well—resolute, obsessive, with a ruthless, reckless intensity. This younger brother was so much like himself in his youth!

He clenched his fist, then relaxed it. Finally, he simply let out a long sigh and strode towards the bus stop—a mountain of work awaited him at the construction site: the acceptance report, the materials inventory, and the material inlet he needed to oversee tomorrow…

In the afternoon, Cang Tianci sat in meditation in his guesthouse room. He tried to stabilize the light in his dantian, but each attempt was like blowing air into a dying ember—the flame flickered and then dimmed further.

He took out the peach wood amulet that Lin Wanqing had given him, the rough wood grain digging into his palm. He then took out his master's pocket watch and held it to his ear to listen—tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

Tomorrow. As long as tomorrow passes.

However, his master's words still echoed in his ears: "The lamp of the heart is like a mirror; if it is covered with dust, it will dim. The fire of the heart is like a furnace; if it burns too brightly, it will burn." He recalled those mornings on Eagle Cliff when his master taught him introspection: "You must see yourself clearly, not the self you want to become, but the true self you are right now."

He closed his eyes and tried to look inward again.

At his dantian, the flame of that lamp entered his consciousness. It was dimmer than last night. The hazy, grayish substance swirling around the flame seemed even denser. He "saw" his liver meridian area; the stagnant, fiery heat remained, burning silently like a lurking beast. The qi in his heart meridian was unstable, like a candle flickering in the wind. At the origin of his kidney meridian, the feeling of "dryness" was even more pronounced, like a well about to run dry.

A voice echoed in my mind: Stop. It's not too late to stop now.

Another voice immediately pressed in: You can't stop. The competition is the day after tomorrow. Coach Zhou's expectations, your older brother's blood and tears, your master's instructions, and those who look down on you... How can you stop?

He remembered the look in his older brother's eyes—a worried, scrutinizing look, the same look he'd given him when he was young. He couldn't lose. He couldn't let his brother down, he couldn't let Coach Zhou's hard work go to waste, he couldn't let those who used to call him "the stutterer" laugh at him. He had chosen this path himself, and he would see it through, even if he had to crawl.

He recalled Lin Wanqing's note: "Take care of yourself, that's the starting point." The words floated in his mind, but were as blurry as if seen through a layer of mist. He clenched the amulet tightly, the rough wood grain digging painfully into his palm.

"The starting point..." he murmured, repeating the two words over and over, his eyes gradually becoming vacant before being filled with something more intense. "But I haven't reached the end yet."

He took a deep breath and guided that hot energy again to clear the stagnation in his meridians.

This time, his breath flowed more "smoothly" than ever before, but that smoothness was superficial, an illusion built on overdrawing his very essence. With each blockage he broke through, his heart beat faster, his temples throbbed more violently, and the flame of the lamp in his dantian dimmed further.

But he couldn't stop.

Deep in her consciousness, Lin Wanqing's neat handwriting resurfaced: "Tianci, don't overwork yourself. Taking care of yourself is the starting point." But those words now seemed blurred, as if seen through a layer of mist. Another, stronger voice cried out: We cannot stop, we cannot let you down, we cannot fail.

After an unknown amount of time, he finally "completed" one cycle of the body's energy.

When he opened his eyes, everything went black for several seconds before returning to normal. He raised his hand to wipe his forehead; his hand was covered in cold sweat, and the back of his clothes was soaked. He leaned against the headboard, panting heavily, feeling as if a fire was burning in his chest.

He looked down at the amulet in his palm, damp with sweat; the rough wood seemed to still retain the warmth of Lin Wanqing. He then took out his master's pocket watch and held it to his ear—tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. The sound was steady and constant, like a silent reminder: your time is slipping away second by second.

But he no longer knew whether he was using this time to move towards victory or towards something else.

Outside the window, the neon lights of the southern city still shone brightly. Deep within his dantian, the flame of that lamp was weaker than ever before, yet it still stubbornly shone.

He lay back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Chen Gang's snoring continued, as did the distant sounds of cars. Meanwhile, the suppressed rage within him was quietly building, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

The moonlight, like water, quietly spills over this sleepless city.

Young Cang Tianci finally drifted into a deep sleep, his brows furrowed, his breathing sometimes rapid and sometimes slow, as if he were fighting against something unseen even in his dreams.