Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Fallen Deer

Two months passed, and a new instructor named Tu Hu arrived to take over the position once held by Jian Keng.

He halted the previous instructor’s grueling methods and began to teach the assembled beasts in a systematic manner, covering martial skills—everything from various weapons and bows to unarmed combat.

Yet Liu Chou did not join them. On the very day Tu Hu arrived, Tuzu took Liu Chou to the side of the encampment, keeping him far from the others. There, a thin and small instructor waited for him, and beside him on the ground lay an assortment of training equipment.

“I ask you, do you still wish to learn martial skills from me?” the instructor inquired, glancing at Liu Chou with a faint smile. “If you do, I'll continue to teach you. If not, you may return. No one will punish you for it.”

Shixing Yi, standing nearby, nodded in agreement.

Liu Chou thought for a moment, then suddenly dropped to his knees and respectfully knocked his head to the ground three times before the instructor, saying, “Master, please accept your disciple’s bow.”

It seemed neither the instructor nor Shixing Yi had expected this. Both were momentarily taken aback, then burst into hearty laughter. Seeing the instructor so delighted, Shixing Yi clasped his hands and said, “Congratulations, Master Fulu, on gaining such a fine disciple.”

“Congratulations? I haven’t even agreed yet!” The instructor, addressed as Master Fulu, though claiming refusal, could not hide the satisfaction in his expression. “Besides, who’s to say this monkey is a fine disciple? To congratulate me now is premature.”

Shixing Yi did not press the matter, simply smiling as he said, “If you won’t accept him, then I must report to the Valley Master and see if he would be willing to take in this monkey who survived your training…”

Master Fulu laughed heartily. “I nearly forgot—go tell him at once, lest the old man gets other ideas. Go on, go on…” He then gestured to Liu Chou, saying, “Rise now. The gesture suffices.”

In other words, he had accepted Liu Chou’s formal bow as a disciple.

Liu Chou’s heart brimmed with joy. He quickly got up and stood quietly, hands at his sides, not daring to interrupt the instructors’ conversation.

Shixing Yi said, “There’s no need for me to report to the Valley Master. Since you began your rounds from the Zhaoyang camp, staying a month in each of the ten divisions, and now two months with me at Yanpeng, the Valley Master must already know.”

Master Fulu suddenly realized, slapping his head and exclaiming, “Ah, I’d forgotten all about that. Good thing the old man hasn’t meddled—otherwise, I’d never forgive him. I’d pluck out his eyebrows and beard for sure!”

Both men laughed long and loud. When their laughter faded, Shixing Yi took his leave, leaving only Liu Chou and Master Fulu. Only then did the instructor turn to Liu Chou, speaking kindly:

“You already know my name—Fuluzi. From this day forward, you are my disciple.”

Liu Chou immediately tried to bow again, but Master Fulu waved it off. “No need for empty formality. From today, you need not train with Tuzu and the others. Come here daily instead. I've already adjusted your training: the mornings will remain as usual, but in the afternoons, you’ll begin practicing this staff technique.”

With that, he drew a leather scroll from his robe and handed it to Liu Chou.

Upon opening it, Liu Chou found indeed it was for staff technique, though it bore no title, only illustrations of movements without any names. Leafing through, he saw it included the basics taught by Jian Keng, with several added moves—all fundamental, none more advanced.

Liu Chou was puzzled but did not dare ask—until Master Fulu noticed, smiling: “Now that you’re my disciple, there’s no need to be so cautious. If you have questions, ask them freely. From your expression, you find the staff forms a bit simple, don’t you?”

Liu Chou nodded cautiously. “Master, these seem like basic moves. Is your disciple mistaken?”

“Not at all. They are the basics,” Master Fulu replied, nodding. “There are thirty-seven fundamental staff techniques in the world. Including what I’ve added, there are only fifty-one. All the myriad variations spring from these fifty-one. No matter how complex, everything returns to these roots. The saying ‘ten thousand changes but one principle’ speaks precisely to this.

“No matter how many techniques you learn, they all fall into three categories: speed, strength, and adaptability. Speed is striking so quickly your opponent can’t react in time. If you land a blow before he moves, or if he can't keep up to block, that’s speed—the first priority in martial arts. Next is strength—if you can strike with the force of a thousand pounds, destroying all in your path, then combined with speed, you are already supreme.”

“Finally, there is adaptability. Adapt and you are unimpeded; be unimpeded and you see all. There are things in this world that cannot be overcome by speed or strength alone. Adaptability is of the heart—only by understanding and perceiving deeply can you truly master your art!”

Sudden enlightenment dawned on Liu Chou. So what Master Fulu spoke of was speed and strength, plus the flexible use of both. Simple as these three principles were, they encompassed all the mysteries of martial arts beneath the heavens. Mastering these basic moves—what need was there to chase after more esoteric skills?

The greatest truths are simple!

His expression did not escape Master Fulu’s notice. Sensing his disciple’s comprehension, Master Fulu felt reassured and laughed, “Since you understand, let’s begin today’s training. You must finish by noon!”

“Yes, Master!”

…

Shixing Yi returned to his quarters. Upon opening the door, he found a figure standing by the window, smiling in silence.

“Greetings, Valley Master,” he said, hurrying forward to salute. “May I ask what brings you here?”

The Guiguzi waved his hand slightly and sat at the table. Only then did Shixing Yi notice a pot of tea already brewed, and hastily poured a cup for his master.

Guiguzi sipped lightly, then spoke, “No special reason. I merely wished to see Fulu accept a disciple.”

“He has done so. It's that monkey—the one with mismatched eyes, who ranked seventh in the last field trial. He endured Master Fulu’s training for two months, and has just now become his disciple.”

Guiguzi narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Has this monkey shown anything unusual?”

“I’m not sure. I never paid much attention. He seems ordinary—just one of the little beasts the monks from the western regions captured and sent to us. No ancient bloodline, no signs of a rare beast, entirely unremarkable.”

“Captured in the western province?”

“No, all the little beasts the monks brought were from the eastern and southern provinces, as we agreed at the start,” Shixing Yi replied, with a touch of concern. “Does the Valley Master suspect something strange about this monkey?”

“Strange? What could escape Fuluzi’s eyes? Don’t underestimate him,” Guiguzi said coolly. “I’m just curious how such an ordinary little beast could survive Fuluzi’s training.”

Shixing Yi thought for a moment before answering, “From what I have learned, Master Fulu tailors the training according to each beast’s physical condition, setting quantities so that the trainees reach their limits and gradually increasing the load to force out their potential. It’s simple in principle—the difficulty is in determining those limits. As long as one has great endurance, it’s doable. Maybe this little beast suffered hardship before gaining its current form, and so has a stronger will than the rest.”

Guiguzi considered this and then nodded. “That must be it. Otherwise, how else could such a creature last?”

“Actually, if we could use Master Fulu’s method throughout the valley, it would be ideal,” Shixing Yi said eagerly. “If we could learn his ways, the number of trained demon soldiers would surely multiply—”

“Be careful what you say!” Guiguzi cut him off, his voice low but brooking no opposition. “Since Fuluzi has not shared his method with us, we must not seek it, nor even speak of it!”

“Yes, Master.” Shixing Yi dared not argue, but after a moment’s thought, he could not help but ask, “Valley Master, Master Fulu seems to have no martial prowess, nor any remarkable cultivation. Why do you hold him in such regard? I truly don’t understand. I hope you will enlighten me.”

Guiguzi looked at him and suddenly smiled. “You’re not wrong—his martial prowess is indeed mediocre, and even after nearly a hundred years of acquaintance he has made no progress. Yet I have never dared take him lightly, all because of a single meeting.”

“A single meeting? What do you mean, Master?”

“It was merely a chance encounter that left a lasting impression. Afterward, we became friends,” Guiguzi gazed out the window, as if lost in memory, but continued, “Do you know when that was?”

“I do not.”

“Three hundred and sixty years ago. I was just apprenticed, only ten years old. Even then, his martial skills were no better than now,” Guiguzi turned back, his eyes deep as an abyss. “For someone to live over four centuries with such skills—don’t you find that odd?”

“Four centuries?” Shixing Yi was shocked. “Master, is he some kind of immortal?”

“He is no immortal—none among the gods above bears such a title,” Guiguzi said quietly, lifting the teacup but not drinking, letting silence stretch before he continued. “Even I do not know his true origin. In other words, I cannot fathom him at all.”

“I understand, Master. This Master Fulu is certainly not an ordinary man. From now on, I will never mention this again.”

“Good. Not only must you never speak of it, you must never investigate his movements. Otherwise, I cannot predict what consequences may follow. Remember this well.”

“Yes, Master.”

“One more thing. The reason I tell you all this is so that you pay heed: whatever happens, do not let that monkey lose his life in our valley. Nothing else matters—only that he must not die.”

“Yes, Master.”

…

Liu Chou’s training changed dramatically from then on. The morning drills were no longer about ever-increasing burdens, but slightly reduced in intensity and required to be completed in less time.

By now, he understood fully that the training always hovered at the edge of his limits, relentlessly squeezing his potential, allowing no weakness of will. The past two months had been exactly this.

Now, however, the effect of pushing his limits had faded, and with the addition of martial training in the afternoons, the workload was lessened. This brought his body into greater balance—muscles, bones, and flesh all harmonized, each movement smooth and efficient, his mastery of technique growing steadily.

His strength soared. If the pills and elixirs of old had forged him into a blade, then this regimen had honed that blade to a lethal edge—so sharp its killing intent could be sensed even sheathed.

He began to avoid returning to his quarters, staying at the training ground after drills, taking meals and baths as needed, and spending the rest of his time nourishing his demon power. As his physical abilities rose rapidly, his demon power lagged behind, and if he did not advance quickly, a bottleneck would soon arrive.

Another month passed, leaving only three months before his departure from the Ghost Valley.

Through his own efforts, Liu Chou finally advanced to the rank of a fourth-tier minor demon. At almost the same time, the Myriad Demon Canon entered its first chapter.

He also mastered his first spell apart from his innate demon art:

Flying Sand.

(Master Fulu—his name is derived from the saying “the deer is overturned, the ape is lost and the tree suffers,” a reference from Liezi’s “King Mu of Zhou,” meaning to see reality as a dream, and thus to lose what is real.)