Douluo Continent: My name is Yang Jian, and I achieved sainthood through my physical body

Chapter 212 Checking Cultivation Progress

Yang Jian leaned against the stove, watching her skillful movements, and nodded slightly: "Not bad. How about you?"

Zhu Zhuqing smiled slightly, still not looking up: "I'm doing alright too. Big brother and Chanchan are both doing well, diligently cultivating, leaving early and returning late every day. Xiaowu is also quite well-behaved, rarely going out, just reading and daydreaming in the courtyard."

She paused, as if considering her words, and then said, "It just feels like... the courtyard is much quieter than before."

Yang Jian didn't reply, his gaze fixed on her back as she turned over the pieces of meat, and remained silent for a few seconds.

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, with only the sizzling of grease dripping onto the fire and the soft sound of the spatula hitting the edge of the pot.

Neither of them spoke again, but the silence wasn't awkward; rather, it conveyed a sense of tacit understanding.

The ease with which the two can get along without saying a word.

After the meat is roasted, it is cut into even small pieces and placed on a plate.

Yang Jian carried the plate back to the living room and placed it on the table.

The golden-brown roasted meat was bubbling with fine oil, and its aroma instantly filled the entire courtyard. Even the fallen petals under the osmanthus tree seemed to be lured by the fragrance and ready to take flight again.

Yang Chan couldn't wait to pick up a piece and stuff it into his mouth.

The moment it entered her mouth, she froze completely, then her eyes widened, and she stuffed piece after piece into her mouth until her cheeks were bulging, babbling incoherently, "Delicious! So delicious! Second brother, you're a god!"

The more she ate, the more she felt a warm current flowing through her meridians, and her soul power seemed to be ignited, rising steadily.

Yang Jiao, who had been maintaining his composure as the eldest brother, couldn't help but pick up a piece and try it after hearing what his sister said.

The next second, his eyes revealed undisguised admiration.

He also felt the increase in soul power, though not a large one, it was clear and real.

Yang Jian sat at the table and also picked up a piece and put it in her mouth.

The meat is tender and firm, with a wild aroma that slowly unfolds on the tongue.

After eating half a plate, he caught a glimpse of a huddled figure at the door.

Sometime later, Xiao Wu left the living room and squatted on the steps outside the door, leaning against the door frame, hugging her knees and curling up like a frightened kitten.

She kept her head down, staring at the ground, not daring to look into the house, but her ears were trembling slightly. She had clearly heard every sound from the living room.

Yang Jian put down her chopsticks and asked, "Aren't you going to eat?"

Xiao Wu's body jerked violently, as if she had been suddenly awakened.

She shook her head vigorously, almost shaking it off, her voice soft and rapid: "No...no need, I'm full. I ate a lot of steamed buns just now, I'm not hungry now. I...I'm going to cultivate."

After saying that, she scrambled to her feet and ran back to her room in a flustered manner, tripping on the threshold and almost falling.

Xiao Wu could tell that it was clearly the flesh of a ferocious beast, so how could she possibly eat it?

Yang Jian watched her figure disappear behind the door without saying anything, then turned back to continue eating the barbecue. The oil melted on his tongue, carrying a warm, rich sensation.

Zhu Zhuqing came out of the kitchen, carrying the last plate of roasted meat, placed it on the table, sat down opposite him, and picked up her chopsticks to take a piece.

Seeing Yang Jian and his two siblings sitting around eating, Zhu Zhuqing's lips curved slightly.

She lowered her head and slowly chewed the meat in her mouth, feeling that today's roast meat was much more fragrant than usual.

……

Morning light streamed in through the gaps in the dense ivy covering the courtyard wall, spreading out a patchwork of fine golden light on the bluestone ground of the courtyard.

The light spots swayed gently in the breeze, like scattered gold flowing slowly across the ground.

The air still carries the faint aroma of last night's barbecue, the rich scent of oil mixed with the smoky charcoal, the sweet fragrance of osmanthus, and the moisture of the morning dew.

Several flavors intertwined and seeped into the lungs, making one unconsciously take a deep breath and completely wake up from sleepiness.

Yang Jiao and Yang Chan sat at the stone table under the old osmanthus tree in the courtyard.

The two stone benches are quite old, their surfaces worn smooth and warm, with a bluish-gray sheen.

Yang Jiao sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, slowly regulating his breathing.

He sat upright and composed, with his back straight, shoulders naturally relaxed, hands lightly resting on his knees, and fingertips slightly pointing upwards.

Eyelashes trembled slightly in the morning light, like butterfly wings brushing against a gentle breeze.

The Two Nine Mysterious Techniques circulated within his body, and a pale golden halo flowed across his skin, like an extremely thin film of light, appearing and disappearing in the morning light, slightly expanding and contracting with each breath.

Yang Chan, however, couldn't sit still.

Although she pretended to sit cross-legged, her body was crooked and her back was hunched as if she couldn't support herself.

He would open his eyes to peek at the courtyard gate, then close them again, only to open them again a few breaths later, repeating this cycle over and over.

His lips moved silently, as if he were reciting a mantra, but he forgot it completely after only a few sentences.

My mind was already racing with thoughts like what to have for breakfast, what class to have first in the morning, and whether the fat guy next door had evolved his martial spirit. I was like a restless kitten, twisting and turning on the futon.

She secretly glanced at Yang Jian, who was leisurely sipping tea beside her.

The second brother sat casually, one arm draped over the edge of the stone table, the other hand twirling a teacup, his gaze fixed on the clear sky above the courtyard wall, lost in thought.

That calm and leisurely demeanor only made Yang Chan's anxiety more pronounced.

Yang Jian finished the last sip of cold tea in his cup and put it down.

The bottom of the cup struck the stone surface with a crisp, light sound, not loud, but exceptionally clear in the quiet courtyard.

He withdrew his gaze from the sky and turned it to the brother and sister with a scrutinizing look.

His gaze was calm, yet it made Yang Chan instinctively shrink back.

"What level have you reached in the Two-Nine Arcane Arts?"

He spoke in a calm and unhurried tone, as if casually asking what he wanted to eat for breakfast.

Yang Jiao opened his eyes and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, the breath carrying a faint golden hue that spread in the morning light.

His voice was calm and steady, as if he had carefully considered every word: "The third level is complete, and I just entered the fourth level a few days ago and am still exploring it."

As he spoke, he raised his right arm, palm facing up, and a ball of pale golden light condensed in his palm.

The light, though faint, was stable and pure, without the slightest disturbance or fluctuation.

Yang Jian glanced at it, his gaze showing neither approval nor disapproval, and simply nodded slightly.

After his elder brother finished answering, Yang Chan knew it was his turn.

She hunched her shoulders, her voice growing softer and softer until the last few words were barely audible, like the fluttering of a mosquito's wings: "I... I haven't perfected the second level yet... I've tried practicing the third level several times, but it's been very difficult. Every time I get to the final stage, I run out of soul power and can't get past it..."

As she spoke, her head drooped lower and lower, until finally she stared at her fingertips folded on her knees, not daring to look Yang Jian in the eye.

Yang Jian neither criticized nor praised him, but simply stood up, walked around the stone table, and stood in front of Yang Chan.

He moved slowly and deliberately, the hem of his shirt lightly brushing against her knee as he bent over, then he reached out his right hand and placed his fingertips on her shoulder.

A gentle yet profound soul force flowed into his body through his fingertips. The temperature was just right, neither too hot nor too cold, like a stream warmed by the sun, flowing slowly along his meridians.

Yang Chan could feel the soul power traveling along the route of the Two-Nine Mysterious Technique. Whenever it reached a point where the flow was not smooth, it would pause slightly, as if an invisible hand was gently pushing it aside to clear the invisible blockage.

Chapter 213 You can stay one night

"Here, you're moving too fast." Yang Jian's voice came from above, his tone still calm. "When you're almost at the end of the third floor, don't rush. Hold your breath until the force in front of you has completely subsided before taking another breath."

His soul power demonstrated a rhythm change within her body, from fast to slow and then fast again, like teaching someone to keep time with a drumbeat.

Yang Chan closed his eyes and sensed for a moment, then his brows suddenly relaxed.

She vaguely understood the feeling—like staring at a locked door for ages without finding the key, and now someone has handed it to her.

She gave a soft "hmm," making sure to remember that sensation.

Yang Jian withdrew his hand, turned to Yang Jiao, and also transferred a stream of soul power to check his state of perfecting the third level.

He discovered that when Yang Jiaoyun reached a certain fork in the road, he would subconsciously take a slightly longer, more circuitous route.

Although it does not affect cultivation, it will waste a bit of soul power for no reason, and the cumulative effect over time will be considerable.

Yang Jian pointed out the problem and told him that he could try to accumulate soul power at the end of the third level and then rush into the entrance of the fourth level at a slightly faster speed than usual. That momentum would naturally open the passage.

Yang nodded solemnly, without asking any questions or refuting them. He simply wrote down every word carefully, closed his eyes, readjusted his breathing, and began to try.

Yang Jian sat back down on the stone bench and picked up the teapot to refill his cup of tea.

The tea had gone cold, but he didn't care. He took a sip, and the crisp, bitter taste slid down his throat.

He put down his cup, glanced at the brother and sister who were adjusting their breathing again, and said nothing more. He just sat quietly and watched the light and shadows in the courtyard move slowly.

After a while, seeing that the two had adjusted, Yang Jian said, "That's enough for today, go to school."

Yang Jiao slowly opened his eyes, gathered his soul power back into his dantian, stood up and stretched his stiff neck, then went back into the house and picked up his schoolbag.

Yang Chan jumped down from the stone bench, squatted down to dust off the hem of her skirt, looked up at Yang Jian and grinned, revealing two small tiger teeth: "Is Second Brother still here tonight? Will he be back for dinner?"

The voice was crisp and clear, carrying a hint of anticipation and tentativeness.

Yang Jian didn't give a definite answer, but only nodded slightly.

Yang Chan's eyes curved into crescents, as if she had received an unexpected gift. She skipped and hopped out of the courtyard gate, her ponytail swinging behind her head.

Yang Jiao followed behind, his steps steady.

As he reached the gate, he glanced back at Yang Jian with a gentle smile on his lips, his eyes filled with concern and reassurance. He then turned and closed the gate behind him.

The gate creaked shut, and the courtyard fell silent once more.

The wind rustled softly through the branches and leaves of the osmanthus tree.

A few dark green leaves twirled and fell onto the bluestone ground, gently spinning before coming to a stop.

The sounds of vendors hawking their wares and laughing from the distant market drifted in on the wind, then drifted away again.

Yang Jian sat on the stone bench for a while, finished the cup of tea that had gone completely cold, rubbed his fingertips on the slightly cool rim of the cup, put down the cup, got up and walked towards the kitchen.

Zhu Zhuqing was already in the kitchen.

She stood with her back to the door in front of the stove, head down, tidying up the dishes used in the morning and evening.

Her long black hair was casually tied back with a plain silver hairpin, with a few stray strands hanging down beside her ears, shimmering with a soft brown light in the morning light streaming through the window.

She moved slowly and carefully, washing each bowl thoroughly. The washed bowls were stacked on the shelf next to her, their rims clinking together with a crisp, delicate sound.