Chapter 65: Why Has Your Breathing Suddenly Grown Unsteady? (With thanks to Lord Shangyue Twenty-Four)

Chen Shian exited the chat with Lin Mengqiu and only then noticed she had added him to two group chats. One of them, where messages were popping up, was called [Class Five Secret Base]. Including himself, there were sixty people in it.

It was lunchtime, and even in the elite class, some students secretly played on their phones instead of napping. Seeing the arrival of “Dao Master,” the group exploded with all sorts of bizarre welcome memes.

[Whoa! It’s Dao Master! Welcome, Dao Master!]
[Welcome, newcomer!]
[Newcomer, run, this group is full of Nantong people!]
[Panda saluting the boss!]

Above their profile pictures were their remarks; the three spamming the chat were Xu Zihan, Li Kai, and Dong Wenyu.

Chen Shian was momentarily stunned—wasn’t the “Kidney-Weak Lord” supposed to be studying in the classroom? He turned his head and saw Dong Wenyu sitting at his desk, “seriously reading.” But when he stood up and moved closer, he noticed something odd inside the pages of Dong Wenyu’s thick dictionary.

A hollow had been carved out in the middle, just big enough to hide a phone. So engrossed in his phone, Dong Wenyu was startled by a shadow passing by. He hurriedly turned a page, hiding the phone completely.

“…Jeez, Dao Master, you scared me! You walk without a sound?”

“…Impressive.”

Chen Shian was genuinely impressed. Such a phone-hiding technique could really fool someone if they weren’t paying attention.

Back at his seat, Chen Shian checked the other group: [Class Five Dreams Setting Sail Together]. Including himself, there were sixty-six members. Clicking the members list, he saw that besides the sixty students, there were also six subject teachers—Teacher Liang, Teacher Zhang, Teacher Ye, and others.

This group was quiet. Xu Zihan, Li Kai, and Dong Wenyu were also in it, but none of them posted anything here. Chen Shian understood.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t view the chat history before he joined, so he had no idea what the class usually talked about.

He left the group and found three new friend requests on WeChat—from Xu Zihan, Li Kai, and Dong Wenyu. He accepted them all.

Before he could put down his phone, Xu Zihan dragged him into another group called [Good Stuff Sharing], which had just a dozen or so boys; he had no idea what it was for.

But soon, Chen Shian understood exactly what kind of group it was. A barrage of shocking gifs and short videos popped up, leaving the young Daoist wide-eyed—

What on earth is this group! You guys are a bad influence!

He quickly muted the group to avoid disturbing his inner peace…

…

Lunchtime ended.

Not long after Chen Shian finished his meditation, Lin Mengqiu entered the classroom.

For the past two days, she had gone home at noon, lugging over ten kilos of books back to school.

Today she hadn’t gone home, but her hands weren’t empty; with a thud, she placed a box of milk on the desk between them.

Chen Shian blinked, pointed at the milk, and asked with a smile, “Class monitor, is this for me?”

He never refused a gift. The class monitor was so kind—she hadn’t lent him a book today, but she brought him a box of milk.

Just as he reached out to take it, a small hand pressed down firmly on the box.

“Did I say it was for you?”

“Huh? Didn’t you say this morning I could have all the milk?”

“…Shameless Daoist! Is this how you ask for things from people?”

Chen Shian had guessed correctly. Lin Mengqiu had originally intended to give him the whole box, but now she’d changed her mind.

Not that she wouldn’t give it to him, but she would hand it out slowly, with a plan—one bottle each morning, and if he ever annoyed her, she’d just withhold his milk!

The girl ignored Chen Shian, picked up the box and placed it by her chair against the wall.

“Class monitor, what time should I come to your house for dinner tomorrow?”

“…”

“Hmm?”

“After school in the afternoon.”

“No evening study session?”

“No, not on Saturday nights—only Sunday nights. We get one day off per week.”

Thanks to school starting on a Wednesday, even though there was a makeup class this Saturday, they’d only have to attend four days before getting a break.

Today was already Friday, and with the weekend approaching, the atmosphere in the class was visibly more relaxed.

“Uncle Lin only gave me vague directions before. I still don’t know where your house is.”

“…Just go back with me when school ends.”

“Okay.”

Seeing that students in front and behind were returning to their seats, Lin Mengqiu unconsciously lowered her voice when discussing this, afraid of being misunderstood, despite usually not caring what others thought.

Fortunately, Chen Shian didn’t dwell on the topic of “going to her house for dinner”—otherwise, he’d surely lose his milk tomorrow…

…

Afternoon classes proceeded as usual.

Each class had submitted their survey on switching from morning exercises to the Eight Brocades. Results came in quickly.

Almost all first-year students supported the change—after all, they hadn’t yet learned the standard morning exercises, so they might as well pick something more interesting.

More than two-thirds of the second-years were supportive or indifferent, but in both first and second year, almost ninety percent expressed dissatisfaction with the current routine.

As for the third-years, they didn’t participate—having replaced outdoor exercises with in-class eye relaxation, followed by self-study. No morning exercises, no Eight Brocades.

Just like that, the school decided to replace the morning exercise routine with the Eight Brocades starting next month.

After school, Teacher Wan approached Chen Shian, hoping he could spare some time to guide the PE teachers in practicing the Eight Brocades. Afterwards, the PE teachers would teach the students.

Since he’d accidentally broken a backboard last time and the school hadn’t made him pay, he saw it as a small way to give back.

After chatting with Teacher Wan outside the class five corridor, the two headed downstairs towards the activity room, where Wen Zhixia was already waiting for Chen Shian to go eat.

“Oh, Teacher Wan. Daoist, aren’t you eating?”

“I’m going with Teacher Wan to practice the Eight Brocades. Why don’t you go eat first, Zhixia?”

“Can I come watch instead?”

“Sure! You’ll have to learn it soon anyway,” Teacher Wan laughed.

So the three went together to the activity room.

The space was large, used mostly for dance students or class events. At this hour, plenty of students were still around.

There were eight PE teachers in the school, including Teacher Wan. Compared to subject teachers, PE was a more relaxed job—mainly teaching the morning routine at the start of the year, annual fitness tests, and sports day.

Now that the Eight Brocades would be the new routine, the teachers had to learn it first.

Chen Shian had previously practiced the Daoist version of the Eight Brocades, which was more effective but also harder. Considering most people’s abilities, he decided to stick to the broadcast version for morning exercises.

He watched the broadcast version video on Teacher Wan’s phone. To a cultivator like him, the version didn’t matter. All versions shared the same origin—after a single glance, he could perform it, and even adapt the movements and breathing to optimize it further.

“Great! We’ll do it your way—you’re the expert here!”

“Shian, you have your own classes and evening study. Today just guide us on the key points, we’ll record everything, and practice on our own later so as not to take up your study time.”

“You’re too kind, Teacher Wan. It’s an honor to learn with you all—hardly worthy of the word ‘guidance’.”

The difference between humility and self-effacement is subtle, but the impression left is completely different. Even faced with a group of teachers, Chen Shian’s face betrayed no nerves—his calm, modest manner left a good impression on everyone.

Teacher Wan set up a tripod and began recording Chen Shian’s instructional video.

In the activity room, golden sunlight slanted across the wooden floor.

Standing at the center, Chen Shian lifted his arms and explained, “Keep your shoulders relaxed and elbows dropped, move gently as if holding up clouds, and remember to breathe…”

The eight teachers stood in two rows, following his movements, raising arms, bending knees, syncing their breathing.

When someone’s wrist was stiff, Chen Shian would walk over and gently adjust their angle. If someone’s stance was unstable, he would patiently say, “Relax your waist as you exhale; imagine your breath sinking to your lower abdomen.”

Other students in the activity room gathered nearby to watch, some joining in out of curiosity.

Wen Zhixia, who had followed them, was diligently practicing along.

As a top student, she usually stood out no matter where she was in the school building, but here, surrounded by PE teachers, her usual aura faded. Instead, the “leaky fish” Chen Shian became the center of attention.

Some teachers had been skeptical at first, but after practicing with Chen Shian and receiving his guidance, they began to sense the subtle magic of the Eight Brocades.

Watching videos online had never given them any particular feeling, but after a short session with Chen Shian, they were sweating—movements that looked easy were unexpectedly exhausting! And these were teachers who exercised regularly.

For Teacher Wan, who had already tried the Eight Brocades before, the difference was even more pronounced.

After following Chen Shian’s guidance, he felt heat coursing through his palms and soles. At first, the breathing rhythm was hard to grasp; regular breathing wasn’t enough for the slow pace required. Only after some insight did he feel his breath become unusually clear and deep.

No wonder it’s called “qigong”—without mastering the breathing, it’s just gymnastics. All these years, he’d been practicing in vain!

Chen Shian didn’t expect the teachers to become experts. Even the seemingly adept Teacher Wan, if judged by his standards, wasn’t close to entry level…

What was basic for Chen Shian would take an ordinary person a lifetime to master.

He walked over to Wen Zhixia.

She had been practicing earnestly from the start. To his mild surprise, while her movements weren’t great, she had mastered the breathing rhythm quite well.

Sweat beaded on Wen Zhixia’s forehead, trailing down her temple and gathering at her delicate chin before dripping to the floor, creating a tiny splash.

Seeing Chen Shian in front of her, the girl’s large eyes flicked up to meet his, and the sweat drop that had hung from her chin finally fell to the floor.

“How do you feel?” Chen Shian asked.

“Exhausted! Like I’ve run five kilometers!”

“It’s like that at first. Once you get the gentle force and breathing right, it gets easier. If you get too tired, take a break—don’t push yourself.”

“No need! Can you check if my movements are correct?”

“Pull your shoulder blades in a bit.”

“Like this?”

“….”

Chen Shian didn’t reply, but stepped behind her, lightly tapping her back with his fingertip.

“Here. Imagine you’re holding a feather between your shoulder blades—it can’t fall, but don’t crush it either.”

His touch seemed to carry a kind of magic; Wen Zhixia didn’t know if it was her imagination, but that gentle tap sent a tingling sensation through her thin uniform into her skin and meridians, guiding her strength and helping her relax her wrists.

“Yes, that way the energy flows from your back to your fingertips.”

“Oh…”

“How do you feel now?”

“P-pretty good!”

The girl stared into space, cheeks flushed. Even though his finger had lifted long ago, the tingling sensation lingered from her back to her arm, as if tracing the path his touch had taken.

“Focus, steady your mind—why has your breathing gone off all of a sudden?”

“…Oh!”

(Thanks to our benefactor from the 24th of last month! You’re amazing! Wishing you wealth and prosperity! Thank you for your support!)