Eric Bolton picked up the scroll and slowly unrolled it. His heart immediately began to pound. On the yellowed silk inside the scroll were a series of figure paintings—one person practicing with a saber, lifelike and vivid. There were a total of eighteen illustrations, each accompanied by several lines of explanatory text.

Eric Bolton turned to the end and saw a slip of paper, written especially for him by Michael King.

‘This is the Wang family’s Nourishing Origin Saber Technique. There are many types of nourishing origin methods, each with its own merits. The Wang family begins with saber techniques, supplemented by medicinal pills. One can master it in a year. Although you have passed the usual age for nourishing origin, you are naturally gifted—perhaps different from ordinary people...’

Eric Bolton poured out a pill from the bottle, held it in his palm and gazed at it. The vermilion pill reflected a strange luster in the light. Without hesitation, he put the pill into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it.

Eric Bolton stared at the first illustration for a long time, then closed his eyes in deep thought for a moment. Suddenly, he felt a surge of heat rising in his chest and abdomen. He let out a low shout, and the gleaming saber in his hand slashed out with a flash.

Chapter 0009: First Glimpse of the Path

The two talked late into the night. Early the next morning, Michael King bid farewell to Eric Bolton and left for Chang’an with his wife and children.

In the spacious house, only Eric Bolton was left. During the war two months ago when Samuel Young attacked Luoyang, Michael King had stockpiled a large amount of grain and pickled vegetables at home—enough for Eric Bolton to eat for several months. Michael King also gave Eric Bolton a gold ingot left by James Lee, which could be exchanged for twenty or thirty strings of coins. For at least three months, Eric Bolton didn’t have to worry about his livelihood.

He really liked this kind of life: a place to live, food to eat, peace and quiet, and no one to disturb him. He simply decided not to think about making a living for now, and used this time to study the Wang family’s basic martial arts techniques to see if he could make any breakthroughs.

Before dawn the next day, Eric Bolton dashed out of the alley and ran hard along the neighborhood wall. This was a habit he had developed since childhood—running five kilometers every day, whether as a soldier or a student, only the distance increased to ten kilometers a day.

The morning breeze was especially cool, blowing over his dark scalp. His hair was less than half an inch long, which had been a source of annoyance—he didn’t want to attract attention. But Michael King had given him a felt hat, which solved the problem.

By the pond in the distance, several women who had risen early were beating clothes with sticks. From time to time, they looked up in surprise at this strange young man, then smiled knowingly—he must be a young monk who had just returned to secular life.

Actually, women would also be a problem Eric Bolton would have to face after coming to the Sui Dynasty, but for now he had no mind to think about it. Maybe one day, Michael King would introduce his own sister to him.

It had been more than ten days since he arrived in the Sui Dynasty, and Eric Bolton was still living in a narrow circle. The people he knew were limited—besides James Lee, there was only Michael King’s family.

Of course, there was also Andrew Carter. Eric Bolton could never forget Andrew Carter’s unparalleled martial skills, and that phoenix-winged, gold-inlaid halberd as big as a millstone, which deeply inspired him and pushed him to constantly challenge his own limits.

...

So-called “nourishing origin” is actually a kind of introductory martial arts training, adjusting the organs and meridians of a child’s body to prepare for the intense training to come.

Michael King said he could only help him to a limited extent—just teach him some basic martial arts methods, the same as he taught his own son.

Nourishing origin training could last as long as a year or as short as half a year, depending on each child’s natural talent. Training usually began at six or seven years old, and almost every child underwent great changes after finishing: their bodies became stronger, endurance increased, and flexibility improved greatly.

Some exceptionally gifted children could even reach the initial stage of “gathering strength” after nourishing origin training, such as sharper eyesight, more acute hearing, and greatly increased strength.

For Eric Bolton, retraining in nourishing origin was like going back to elementary school as an adult—no difficulty at all. He just needed to follow the steps, and everything would fall into place. Only, neither Michael King nor he knew what the results would be after he finished.

He practiced every morning and evening. In the afternoons, Eric Bolton had free time. After three months, he had gradually blended into this era.

...

“Hello, Aunt Collins!”

That afternoon, Eric Bolton returned from outside the city and ran into his neighbor, Aunt Collins, at the entrance of the alley.

“Oh! Samuel! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Aunt Collins took him for Michael King’s younger brother, which was understandable. Before leaving, Michael King had told all the neighbors that he was going to Chang’an on business, and the young man at home was his brother, Samuel King.

Seeing her startled and exaggerated manner, Eric Bolton scratched his scalp and smiled, “Auntie, is there something you need?”

“Of course it’s a good thing!”

Aunt Collins had been quite pretty when she was young, her jade-like hands soft and boneless, earning her the nickname “Guanyin Hands.” Unfortunately, age had turned her jade hands into eagle claws. Without another word, she grabbed Eric Bolton’s wrist and dragged him toward her courtyard.

Eric Bolton could take on ten men at once and kill without batting an eye, but when faced with an elderly woman like this, he was at a complete loss. He stumbled as Aunt Collins dragged him into the yard.

Inside were six or seven other elderly women of similar age. When they saw Eric Bolton come in, they immediately surrounded him. “Samuel, that ‘square dance’ you taught us last time—can you show us a different dance step? The one we’re doing now looks like zombies.”