Han Biao sat on a flat and large cobblestone.
His back is not very straight, but slightly arched like a cat about to prey. His shoulders and arms are relaxed, his hands hang naturally on both sides, and there is a fist-like distance between his legs and knees. The tip touches the ground, and the heel is lifted an inch off the ground.
This is a sitting position that allows him to stand up or jump up at any time.
This is also a sitting posture that looks very relaxed, but in fact, if you really have to sit like this all the time, ordinary people may not be able to hold it for five minutes.
But Han Biao had been sitting like this for a long time. After drinking the fish soup, he kept sitting like this without any signs of discomfort or difficulty.
He squinted his eyes slightly and watched the young man from the mountain village put away his dishes and walked towards the stream, thoughtfully.
He had been looking at this young man for a long time.
Of course, he was not staring at others all the time, but he was following the young man from the corner of his eye, observing his every move.
The reason why Han Biao pays so much attention to that young man is naturally not because the young man's fish soup is good, but because he feels that every movement of the young man is full of a harmonious beauty.
Maybe ordinary people can't see anything special, but in the eyes of a master like Han Biao who has been immersed in martial arts for many years, he can see the wonderful sense of rhythm.
Over the years, Han Biao had only seen such coordinated and natural body movements from one other person.
That person was the great Tai Chi master known as Yang Wudi in Yanjing City.
When he was young, Han Biao followed his father to visit the great master once, and the demeanor of the number one martial artist in Yanjing left a very deep impression on the young Han Biao, which he would never forget for many years.
As for maintaining a certain harmonious and natural rhythm in every gesture, Han Biao has been practicing martial arts for decades and has encountered some wonderful opportunities, but he still can't do it.
Even though he is sitting on the big rock now, he seems to be moving but not moving. He is moving in silence. He seems to be integrated with the big rock under him. He also has a sense of harmonious beauty. But if he really moves, that sense of harmony will immediately disappear. will disappear.
He is still a little bit far from that state.
But this young man did it, whether moving or still, he was in that harmonious and natural state.
However, Han Biao could not see any traces of martial arts training on this young man, which could not be hidden from his eyes either.
If this was a natural instinct, then this boy would be amazing.
At this moment, Han Biao was thinking whether he should mention to the lady before going back this time whether he could take this young man out of the valley, because he suddenly had the idea of accepting a disciple.
Although the young man has passed the best age for practicing martial arts, with that kind of talent, he has not yet reached the peak of martial arts and become the next Yang Wudi.
But this matter has to wait a little longer. Let's carefully observe the young man's character in the past two days. Recruiting a disciple is a big deal, martial arts talent is one part, and character is another part.
For Han Biao, what matters more is character.
Han Biao watched the young man walk to the stream with the dishes and chopsticks in his hands, squat down and start washing the dishes. Farther away, the mercenaries from the Western Continent were drinking and chatting around the campfire.
There was a distance of fifty or sixty meters between the two sides. If it weren't for shouting, ordinary people wouldn't be able to hear the conversation there, but Han Biao could vaguely hear it.
After all, he is only one step away from being a master in the realm of divine transformation. The inner energy in his body has been trained to reach every inch of his body, and his hearing is naturally much better than that of ordinary people.
However, Han Biao couldn't understand what the white devils from Yinjili were talking about, and he didn't care much.
Then Han Biao withdrew his gaze and said to Xu Chuxiang next to him:
"Miss, it's getting late. You've been tired all day. Why don't you go to the tent and rest early."
Xu Chuxiang also sat on a large and smooth pebble, holding his knees with his hands and resting his chin on his knees. His long wavy hair hung down like a waterfall, half-covering his bright and moving face.
There was tranquility on her face, and she looked quietly at the equally peaceful moon over the stream.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of complete letting go of everything and a truly peaceful mood.
Xu Chuxiang suddenly decided that he would find time to come to this valley far away from the world in the future, and bring his father with him so that he could have a good rest for a few days and stop being busy with military affairs.
Hearing Han Biao's words, Xu Chuxiang raised his head, smiled at the middle-aged man whose father asked him to call him Uncle Han, and said:
"Uncle Han, it's okay. I slept late to begin with, let alone in the wild, and I didn't feel sleepy. I also want to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the empty mountain and the moonlight. How about you, Uncle Han, go and rest first."
Xu Chuxiang is not being polite. She is indeed a night owl and usually does not go to bed until one or two in the morning.
However, the reason why she went to bed late was not because she was having fun and partying all night long like the dandies in Jingcheng, but because of work. Architectural designers like her preferred to work in quiet nights, especially in the past six months. For that big project that she had been planning for a long time, she often stayed up all night drawing paper.
"I won't sleep today. I will stay outside your tent, miss."
"That's too hard. Uncle Han, you'd better get some sleep."
"No, miss, I'm a martial arts practitioner. It doesn't matter if I don't sleep for a few days. I just need to close my eyes and adjust my breathing later."
Is there any benefit to practicing martial arts?
Then why not practice it yourself...
Such an idea flashed across Xu Chuxiang's mind for no apparent reason.
She was as wild as a boy since she was a child. She didn't like music, chess, calligraphy and painting. She liked shooting and horse riding, but she had never learned martial arts. Although her father had many guards who were proficient in martial arts around her when she was a child, Xu Chuxiang had no interest in it.
Because she felt that practicing martial arts was useless. No matter how well you practiced kung fu, it was of no use in the face of modern firearms. Just like the boxers more than a hundred years ago, they all claimed to be invulnerable, but when they were actually faced with machine gun fire, they were invulnerable. Life can only be harvested like straw under a sickle.
So Xu Chuxiang never thought about practicing martial arts before.
She also wondered why her father wanted someone like Han Biao to be her personal bodyguard.
In fact, Xu Chuxiang was not familiar with Han Biao before coming to Shennongjia this time, because Han Biao was not the old man who had been with her father since she was a child.
Han Biao became her father's personal guard when she was studying abroad. When she saw him after returning to China, her father did not introduce him too much and only said one sentence.
"I will call you Uncle Han from now on. He is not my subordinate, but my brother."
Xu Chuxiang's eyes fell on the cowhide belt full of flying knives around Han Biao's waist. She had never seen Uncle Han carry a gun. Although her father's previous guards also had martial arts masters, they all knew how to use guns.
"Uncle Han, don't you like using guns?"
So Xu Chuxiang asked curiously.
"I'm not very good at using guns. I've learned how to use them, but I can't always shoot accurately."
Han Biao's answer surprised Xu Chuxiang.
"Uncle Han, what should you do if you encounter an enemy with a gun?"
"Use a throwing knife!"
Han Biao pointed to the belt around his waist.
"Uncle Han, is your flying knife faster than bullets?"
Xu Chuxiang asked again in disbelief.
The man with an ordinary appearance and dull expression had a smile on his face. He did not answer Xu Chuxiang whether his flying knives or bullets were faster, but he gave another answer.
"If someone shoots me in the back, whether I use a throwing knife or a gun, the result is the same. But if the enemy is standing in front of me, then he has no chance to shoot."
It sounds awesome...
Xu Chuxiang blinked.
She had never seen Han Biao take action, but her father should have. Otherwise, with his father's character, he would not be able to call others brothers so easily.
"Uncle Han, do you think there are really immortals in this world?"
Then Xu Chuxiang asked another question. She felt that a person like Han Biao was naturally more knowledgeable and might know some things that ordinary people didn't know.
This time, Han Biao was silent for a moment, but still did not answer Xu Chuxiang's question directly, but said with a strange expression:
"I have no idea."
He didn't say whether he thought there was or not, just that he didn't know.
While speaking, Han Biao's eyes were slightly dazed. His thoughts went back to a few years ago, and he remembered the young man named Mu who saved his life.
At that time, Han Biao was already the undisputed number one master in the Chu-Xiang martial arts world, but in front of that young man, he felt as powerless as a child.
Unfortunately, despite his various begging, the young man surnamed Mu taught him a few things, but refused to truly accept him as his disciple.
Just when Han Biao was thinking about the past a few years ago, the mountain village boy with a pockmarked face came back.
Han Biao's eyes flashed slightly, a little strange.
What happened to that boy? What just happened?
Why did his movements lose the smoothness and naturalness they had just now?
