Poet Immortal, Poet Sage, Duke of the State!

The Xiao residence.

It was already evening when Qing Shuang returned from Chen Chang'an's place.

She took out a folded piece of paper from her bosom, her expression one of doubt.

Can a mere poem really make Grandpa better?

Well, let's try anything, even if it's a long shot!

She gritted her teeth and strode towards the warm pavilion.

Inside the warm pavilion, General Xiao leaned back in his chair. Hearing footsteps, he slowly opened his eyes, a hint of weariness in his expression, and asked softly, "Where did you run off to just now?"

Qing Shuang put her hands behind her back and smiled mysteriously.

She walked up to General Xiao, then suddenly thrust her hand forward, saying, "Grandpa, I have something good to show you!"

General Xiao didn't pay any attention at first, but simply lowered his eyes and glanced casually at the words on the paper.

That one glance sent a jolt through his body.

"Even the divine tortoise, though long-lived, has its end."

The flying serpent riding the mist, eventually turns to dust...

General Xiao's eyes suddenly froze, his gaze fixed as if nailed to a piece of paper, unmoving.

He has lived for over sixty years and has seen countless heroes and great men grow old and die.

Even the longest-lived tortoise has an end, and even the most powerful flying serpent returns to dust... Isn't this a perfect description of his life?

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his gaze continued downward.

"An old steed in its stall may still aspire to gallop a thousand miles."

"Even in their twilight years, heroes still cherish lofty ambitions."

General Xiao's gaze lingered there, and he didn't look away for a long time.

The old horse lay by the manger, still thinking about galloping thousands of miles.

Even in his later years, the hero's passion never faded.

Isn't that describing himself?

In his youth, he fought on all sides, and the foreign tribes trembled at the mere mention of the name "Xiao Zhenyue".

Now he is old, his arms hang limply, and he has difficulty even raising his hand to scratch an itch, but the fire in his heart has never been extinguished.

His gaze continued downwards.

"The timing of waxing and waning is not solely determined by Heaven."

"Nourishment and well-being bring longevity."

"How fortunate I am! Let me sing to express my aspirations..."

The spark in General Xiao's eyes gradually ignited, growing stronger and brighter.

This poem is telling him that one cannot accept one's fate.

In his entire life, when has Xiao Zhenyue ever bowed his head to God?

In his youth, he faced death on the battlefield without batting an eye, even with a knife to his throat. Now, with only a few old wounds, how could he have turned himself into a useless person?

General Xiao slowly clenched his fist.

This hand hasn't been clenched tightly in a long time.

A long time passed.

General Xiao slowly raised his eyes, his voice excited yet low as he asked Qing Shuang, "My dear granddaughter, where did you get this poem?"

Qing Shuang watched quietly and immediately noticed that her grandfather's spirit was completely different from usual.

She was overjoyed; Young Master Shen's poem really worked!

She raised her chin and said matter-of-factly, "Why can't it be me who did it?"

General Xiao glanced at her indifferently; he knew his granddaughter's temperament better than anyone else.

She might be good at wielding weapons, but such bold and unrestrained poetry could never have been written by her.

A hint of understanding flickered in his eyes, but he didn't reveal it. He simply lowered his gaze and silently recited the words.

As he read on, General Xiao, his mind churning with emotion, slowly raised his hand and said, "Help me up."

This time, his voice was steady and powerful.

Seeing this, Qing Shuang quickly stepped forward, reached out and firmly supported the old man's arm, a light smile spreading across her face.

After General Xiao settled in, he took Qing Shuang's hand and said, "I'm a little hungry..."

"Alright, I'll give the order right away!"

"Also, have someone prepare some more hot water. I need to take a bath and use the bottle of floral water you sent..."

"Okay, okay!"

Qing Shuang's eyes lit up with joy, and she readily agreed. Then, she glanced at General Xiao with concern and casually asked, "Should we ask the imperial physician to come and take a look tomorrow?"

General Xiao waved his hand and said, "No need, I have to attend court tomorrow..."

Qing Shuang was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, but her beautiful eyes lit up again.

I never expected that a poem could restore my grandfather's spirits to such an extent, and he even regained his desire to attend court. Young Master Shen is amazing!

……

A small courtyard in the south of the city.

After Qing Shuang left, Chen Chang'an did not rush to practice his skills.

"Though the Tortoise Lives Long" is a four-character Yuefu poem written by Cao Cao. The poem shows a vigorous and enterprising attitude towards life in old age, which is very suitable to encourage Qing Shuang's grandfather.

Consider it his way of repaying Qing Shuang for teaching him martial arts.

However, if Qing Shuang's grandfather is also uncultured like the young rich woman, then he would have wasted his ink and brush.

Chen Chang'an shook his head, stood up from the stone bench, stretched, and said, "Forget it, why think so much? Let's practice first..."

He walked back to the center of the courtyard and sat down cross-legged.

This time, he didn't rush to close his eyes, but instead read through the entire "Po Jun Jue" from beginning to end.

The booklet is not thick; excluding the meridian diagrams, the main text is only a dozen pages long.

The core of the mental cultivation method can be summed up in just eight words: "Focus your mind on the dantian and circulate your qi throughout the body."

"Focusing on the dantian" means concentrating your attention on the dantian area and imagining a flow of energy there.

The so-called "circulation of Qi throughout the body" means waiting for the Qi to condense to a certain degree, and then using your mind to guide it to travel around the meridians.

After reading it, Chen Chang'an closed the booklet and took a deep breath.

Then close your eyes and focus your attention on your lower abdomen.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...

After an unknown amount of time, he suddenly sensed something was amiss.

A faint stream of air emanated from the dantian.

This wisp of air was so faint that he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been completely focused.

But this airflow does exist.

Chen Chang'an tried to use his mind to guide the flow of energy upwards along the meridians.

The energy flow originates from the dantian, passes through the meridians in the abdomen, slowly ascends to the chest, then splits into two paths, running along the inner sides of the arms to the palms, and then returns from the palms, bypassing the waist and back, before returning to the dantian.

After completing the lap, Chen Chang'an felt warm all over.

He slowly opened his eyes.

The night sky is dotted with stars, and autumn insects chirp in the corner of the wall.

Everything seemed normal, but Chen Chang'an felt that something was different about him.

He stood up and stretched his arms and legs.

The fatigue that had accumulated during the day suddenly vanished.

Chen Chang'an looked down at his hands, then at the stone bench beneath him.

The stone bench was made of bluestone, square and weighed probably several tens of kilograms.

He had tried moving the yard before; he could barely move it with both hands, but it was very difficult.

As if guided by a ghost, Chen Chang'an bent down, grabbed the edge of the stone bench with one hand, and began to circulate the airflow.

then……

Just a gentle lift.

The stone bench was lifted off the ground.

Chen Chang'an was stunned.

This stone bench must weigh at least forty or fifty pounds, and he lifted it up so easily?

Chen Chang'an put the stone bench back in its original position and tried again.

The stone bench was easily lifted again.

Chen Chang'an stood in the courtyard, looking down at his hands, his expression gradually changing from bewilderment to disbelief.

"I... I've already developed internal energy?"

Could it be that I am a martial arts prodigy, one in a million?