Chapter 97: The Eight Arts

For a moment, Shokuba Haruka couldn’t help looking up nervously. Suddenly, she found the apple gone. She glanced around, eyes wide with surprise, her mouth hanging open. “Huh? Teacher… how did the apple disappear…”

Fang Jing also saw it. He pushed up his glasses.

“It’s in your left hand, right? This isn’t ninjutsu—it’s magic!”

“Bingo! Correct.”

Kume Nansho flicked his left wrist, and a bright red apple appeared in his palm.

“The ancient martial arts I learned include Bone Method and Killing Arts, but also techniques like this. It’s not a strict fist style—it mixes in plenty of ‘unorthodox tricks.’”

“But such skills aren’t very practical,” Fang Jing shook his head slowly. “I doubt moves like these would work in real combat. Anyone skilled would see through this deception quickly.”

“Fair point,” Kume Nansho tossed the apple back to him, his tone thoughtful. “But consider this: between martial artists of similar strength, victory or defeat is decided in an instant. The opponent doesn’t need to fool you long—just one second is enough.”

Fang Jing recalled their earlier duel. Kume Nansho’s exquisite footwork had bewitched him, pushing him to the brink. It wasn’t some mystical art—merely timing movement to the opponent’s blink, creating an illusion of vanishing by circling just beyond their vision.

Perhaps he was right. Techniques like the “Sickle Foot” step method used blind spots to confuse enemies. Upon reflection, Fang Jing’s earlier words had indeed been too rash.

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After lunch and wine, Kume Nansho decided to teach him.

“Let’s start with the ‘Dragon Division’—it’s fundamental.” He resolved to train Fang Jing in movement and footwork first. A brief exchange had already given him insight into the young man’s skill.

Shokuba Haruka watched with interest nearby. She wasn’t Kume’s student. “Teacher Kume didn’t take me as a disciple. He saved my father once, so our families are close. Dad often sends me to deliver things here…”

Haruka had learned self-defense from her father. Though Kume didn’t formally teach her, he sometimes sparred with her and corrected her movements. With a master’s occasional pointers, her combat skills were nothing to scoff at.

“This is my first time seeing Teacher Kume personally train someone! Show me how powerful the Huanzang Style really is,” she said eagerly.

“Hey! Kid, focus less on flirting and more on my lesson!”

“Sorry.”

As Fang Jing turned, Kume Nansho stretched, then waved him to the center of the clearing—an open spot by the riverbank he’d chosen for their session.

“The Huanzang Style is a ninjutsu school passed down since ancient times. Its techniques are divided into eight categories: Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Dragon, Serpent, Demon, and Heaven.”

Kume told Fang Jing it was an ancient martial art from the Warring States-era Saika ninja. But wars had scattered its traditions, destroying most records. The “Huanzang-ryū Eight Arts” he knew weren’t truly historic—they were recreated by his teacher using surviving fragments mixed with newly documented research.

Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Dragon, Serpent, Demon, Heaven—these formed the Huanzang-ryū Eight Arts, the core of the style today.

“Dragon Division, also called ‘Cloud Dragon Willow,’ focuses on footwork, body adjustment, weight shifting, and movement-based tactics…”

Kume demonstrated. The “Cloud Dragon Willow” steps resembled an ancient dance, demanding intense flexibility in every posture and twist.

“Your hands, hips, neck, and head are too stiff. To master this, you must loosen every joint. Now, relax your legs more.”

Mimicking Kume, Fang Jing used muscle and motor memory to absorb each motion while consciously analyzing every body shift.

Kume stood on one tiptoe, lifted his other leg behind him, then leaned his upper body fully forward until his frame formed a perfect ‘T.’ Suddenly, he flipped his right leg over, his entire body somersaulting in midair with effortless agility—like a wild forest primate.

(But traditional martial arts emphasize grounded stability and firm stances… “Cloud Dragon Willow” seeks speed, lightness, and unpredictability. Its shifting center of gravity defies convention—proving it’s not just movement but specialized training itself.)

“Master this posture, and your body will sway like willow catkins—nimble and weightless. Some moves mimic birds or beasts, lifelike and dynamic.”

Though illogical by standard martial logic, Fang Jing grasped its principles: an airborne series of kicks could become a sudden mid-jump twist into a headstand—not mere acrobatics but a smarter fighting strategy.

“His chest and back muscles pulse strangely too… contracting and relaxing… Perhaps it helps deflect attacks by redirecting force?”

The deeper he analyzed, the clearer it became this was no mere basic skill—only after learning other arts would its true power fuse together.

“Focus! Lower your head further!” Kume guided him out of a crouch and into a lunge, pressing Fang Jing’s head almost to the ground.

Observing from the sidelines, the casually seated Haruka choked on her drink and sprayed it out, giggling wildly at the sight.