Crossover anime/manga, immediately transmigrated after death

"Okay," Zhang Yang said, "I'll learn."

Cheng Ling Shuang nodded, and without saying a word, walked directly to the center of the courtyard.

"First, practice standing meditation."

She spread her legs apart and struck a pose.

Zhang Yang looked at it carefully.

The posture looks like the San Ti stance of Xingyi Quan, but it's different.

The distance between the feet is narrower than in the regular Three-Body Pose, with the weight distributed 30/70 in front and 30/70 in back. The toes of the front foot are slightly turned inward, while the sole of the back foot is firmly planted on the ground. The knees are slightly bent, neither straight nor too stiff.

With his front hand outstretched, palm facing forward and fingertips pointing towards his nose, it looked as if he were about to push a mountain out.

He pulled his hand back and placed it against his ribs, palm down, as if he were hiding a knife there.

“Remember this stance,” Cheng Ling Shuang said. “Six Harmonies: elbows and knees, shoulders and hips, hands and feet. All the joints in the body correspond to each other, forming a chain of power from the heels to the fingertips.”

Zhang Yang tried to imitate her posture.

I knew something was wrong the moment I started doing it.

His shoulders were stiff, his knees weren't bent enough, his front hand was stretched too straight, and his back hand was pressed too tightly against his body.

The whole posture looks like a penguin learning to stand.

Cheng Ling Shuang didn't say anything. She walked over, raised her foot, and gently kicked his left ankle with her toes.

"It's too wide. Shrink it by two fingers."

Zhang Yang made some adjustments.

She reached out and pressed down on his lower back again: "Sit down. Don't straighten your back, sit down."

Zhang Yang tried to lower his waist, but he didn't know how much lower.

Cheng Ling Shuang kicked his right knee again: "Support outwards. Don't let your knee buckle inwards."

With each sentence she spoke, she adjusted a different spot, like a craftsman pruning a piece of wood.

Ankles, knees, waist, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers...

She pinched every part of it.

Then Cheng Ling Shuang took two steps back, looked at it again, and said, "Remember this feeling."

Zhang Yang stood there, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Each joint is fixed at a specific angle, and the whole body is like being twisted into a rope, with toes digging into the ground, knees supporting the body, waist sitting down, shoulders relaxing, and front hand reaching out.

He could feel a faint line running from the soles of his feet to his toes, like a rubber band stretched from his heel to his fingers, taut but not broken.

“It moved,” Cheng Ling Shuang suddenly said.

"what?"

"You moved slightly just now. When you're practicing standing meditation, don't move."

Zhang Yang quickly steadied himself, but less than ten seconds later, his body began to sway slightly again.

He then realized that standing meditation, which seemed simple, was actually more tiring than running.

Muscles that are not usually used are all activated in this posture; the outer thighs are shaking, the lower back is sore, and the flesh between the shoulder blades is swollen.

Cheng Ling Shuang walked up to him, raised her hand, and pushed his forearm with her palm.

It wasn't very strong, but it was very heavy.

A force came from her palm, passed through his arm, shoulder, waist... and then stopped.

“It broke,” Cheng Ling Shuang said. “The force reached the shoulder and broke; it didn’t travel to the feet.”

She withdrew her hand: "Feel it. The force I used to push you should travel from your fingertips all the way to your toes without stopping. Relax your shoulders, don't strain."

Zhang Yang tried to adjust himself, lowering his shoulders a bit.

Cheng Ling Shuang pushed him again.

This time, the force was heavier than before, like a stone rolling down a pipe.

Zhang Yang could feel the force passing through his shoulders, into his back, down his waist, and then getting stuck at his waist.

“Your waist is rigid,” Cheng Ling Shuang said mercilessly. “If you keep your waist tight, you won’t be able to get the force through. Sit on your hips and loosen your waist.”

Zhang Yang took a deep breath, tried to push his hips forward a little, and lowered his waist.

Cheng Ling Shuang pushed him again.

After that palm strike, Zhang Yang felt a slight tremor in the soles of his feet.

It felt like something started from the palm, passed through the arm, shoulder, back, waist, thigh, knee, calf, and finally reached the sole of the foot.

It was very faint, so faint that it was almost imperceptible.

But it does exist.

"You felt it?" Cheng Ling Shuang asked.

"...I felt it."

"Remember this feeling."

Zhang Yang stood there, motionless, trying to memorize the path of the force transmission he had just experienced.

"First published on 705u.com - Book Club"

"Senior, could you please stop bringing this up?"

"But practicing this, I can barely manage."

Before Zhang Yang could even feel happy, she added, "Because you have no brain, you can only practice this kind of kung fu that doesn't require any brain."

"Thank you for your compliment."

Li Sushang squatted under the eaves, holding a bowl of hot water. She couldn't help but laugh as she watched Zhang Yang being tormented by his master until he was grimacing.

"Master, how long will it take him to practice like this?"

"Three days."

Cheng Ling Shuang said calmly, "In these three days, we will learn the training method in the morning and the moves in the afternoon. We will set off in three days."

Li Sushang was taken aback: "Depart? Where to?"

Cheng Ling Shuang raised her head and looked towards the eastern sky: "Tianqiong Peak, the Taixu Sword Sect that the boss rebuilt is right there."

Chapter Sixteen: Just remember your body.

Zhang Yang felt like he had been beaten up.

wrong.

It's not just a guess.

I was definitely beaten up.

Moreover, he was beaten by a white-haired woman in various positions, angles, and with varying force for an entire afternoon.

"stand up."

Cheng Ling Shuang stood in the courtyard, her white robes motionless, looking down at Zhang Yang who was lying on the ground.

"Again."

Zhang Yang grimaced as he got up from the ground, his whole body aching.

Oh shit.

Is this the legendary lecture by a renowned teacher?

He got into position, which was actually the standing posture Cheng Ling Shuang had taught him that morning: feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, waist lowered, hands loosely clasped.

Cheng Lingshuang called this "inch heart stake".

Zhang Yang felt that this thing was no different from the horse stance in high school PE class, except that it had a more sophisticated name.

Snapped!

A palm strike landed on Zhang Yang's shoulder, causing him to stagger to the left before regaining his balance.

"When practicing Zhan Zhuang (standing meditation), the force originates from the feet. Your force breaks off at the shoulders."

Cheng Ling Shuang's voice drifted from behind, neither warm nor cold.

"I have never learned martial arts..." Zhang Yang tried to explain.

"I know."

"Then you mean..."

"If you do it a few more times, your body will remember it."

"..."

Fine.

This teaching philosophy is quite simple: if you can't beat someone, remember how to get beaten; if you beat someone enough, you'll know how not to get beaten.

To be fair, there's nothing wrong with this logic.

Cheng Lingshuang's teaching methods are so simple and brutal that they are outrageous.

She first demonstrated the moves, and then had Zhang Yang imitate them.

Did you hit the right spot?

No reward, move on to the next move.

Did you make a mistake?

A palm strike came right over, specifically targeting the thickest parts of the flesh. It really hurt, but it wouldn't damage the bones or tendons.

"Inch-force - Chaotic Thunder".

Cheng Ling Shuang's right hand trembled, her five fingers spread open and then instantly clenched into a fist, creating a crisp sound in the air.

Zhang Yang stared wide-eyed.

This isn't special effects from a martial arts movie; this is real bare-handed blasting of the air.

"Come here."

"First published on 705u.com - Book Club"

Zhang Yang gritted his teeth and imitated it once.

As a result, my hands shook so badly they looked like I had Parkinson's disease, and the air did make a sound... but it was just the cracking sound of my knuckles.

"This is not for you to pinch your fingers."

"I know."

"Again."

Snapped!

Another palm strike.

And so, for three whole days, Zhang Yang spent his time like this.

Standing meditation in the morning, getting beaten in the afternoon—no, it's "practical training."

Cheng Ling Shuang taught him each of the six boxing moves one by one.

Inch-force: Chaotic Thunder, Inch-force: Thunderclap, Inch-force: Rock Shattering, Inch-force: Mountain Collapse, Inch-force: Cloud Mist, Inch-force: Heaven Opening.

These are all famous moves from the game, and back in the day, there was indeed a group of players who really liked using Fu Hua.

I won't say anything more; these are all tears of a bygone era.

Zhang Yang learned it superficially.

I've memorized the stance, the order of the moves, and the key points of generating power.

But as Cheng Ling Shuang said, "Your punch has no soul."

It means that even if you do the movements correctly, without internal force to drive them, it's just a show.