Chapter Forty-Two: Sister Ban Dispels Doubts (Part Two)

“Tired?” Zhao Li wasn’t even sure if he truly felt exhausted, but hearing Ban Yun-chan say it out loud, he did sense a faint weariness settling over him.

“What have you been doing these days? You always seem distracted, absent-minded. There shouldn’t be any work here that keeps you so busy.” Ban Yun-chan looked at this naïve little brother, something in her heart stirred. “Tell your sister about it. Maybe speaking out will ease your burden. That is, if you don’t mind confiding in a prisoner.”

A prisoner—and a prison guard. The gulf between them was vast, and her words snapped Zhao Li out of his daze. But how could a girl like her possibly be called a criminal, and not just any criminal, but a dangerous one in the eyes of the military? He muttered to himself, “How could that be… I don’t know about others, but you’re not that kind of person, Sister Ban.”

In front of Ban Yun-chan, Zhao Li’s usual defenses seemed to melt away. Even though he knew, rationally, that the woman before him was dangerous, he could never bring himself to truly guard against her. Whenever Ban Yun-chan was nearby, he always felt a rare sense of ease, as if her presence alone could keep the troubles of the world at bay. Perhaps that was why he so often forgot her identity as a prisoner.

Ban Yun-chan didn’t speak much, and when she did, her words were gentle and unhurried, as if nothing could ever ruffle her composure. She had a knack for getting to the heart of things in a sentence or two, making conversations effortless and relaxed, and often resolving practical matters. Talking with her was always a pleasure.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” Zhao Li confessed, unable to explain himself fully. “I think there’s something wrong with my cultivation.” He could only voice his confusion in these vague terms; as for what the problem was, he found himself at a loss for words.

“Have some water. Don’t rush.” She handed him a glass at just the right moment. “Sit back. Take it easy.” As she reassured him, she sat across from him, smoothing out the crease on his shoulder with a gentle touch. “Alright. It’s nothing serious. Tell me, slowly, what exactly is troubling you?”

In the clear light of Ban Yun-chan’s eyes, Zhao Li’s problems seemed far less daunting. His stalled progress in cultivation wasn’t life-threatening or especially dangerous—perhaps he’d been overreacting all along.

“I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately…” Zhao Li looked at Ban Yun-chan, so dignified and composed across from him, her beautiful eyes shining with encouragement. Slowly, he poured out his confusion from the past few days.

She simply listened, her expressive eyes urging him on, but she never interrupted.

Strangely enough, after voicing his troubles, Zhao Li felt much lighter. Of course, he was careful—there were things he could never tell Ban Yun-chan, like the origins of his nameless technique. He only spoke of his recent difficulties with practice, never mentioning the technique itself.

“Tell me, all this training—what is it really for?” Ban Yun-chan smiled, not answering directly but posing a question.

Zhao Li pondered, then shook his head, helpless. The question was too difficult. To be invincible? That seemed absurd. To punish evil and reward good? Then what was the law for? To rise above others? That was even more far-fetched—he feared that above all.

Ban Yun-chan watched him, biting her lip affectionately and shaking her head. “It’s just a passing impulse. You have talent, and drive. But you also need the right mindset, and experience—just like the blooming and fading of flowers, the rise and fall of the tide, the waxing and waning of the moon.” Her words were deep, almost too profound for Zhao Li to grasp at once.

“Congratulations!” She laughed softly at his bewildered look, offering her congratulations, which only left Zhao Li even more confused.

“When you reach a certain point in your training, you’ll encounter obstacles like this,” she explained kindly. “Many martial arts have such barriers. In Buddhism, it’s called the ‘obstacle of knowledge and views,’ others call it the ‘martial arts barrier’—in simpler terms, a bottleneck. Once you break through it, your skills will improve by leaps and bounds. You’ve reached this point. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

Hitting a bottleneck was usually frustrating, but the way Ban Yun-chan spoke of it, it almost seemed like a good thing. Zhao Li found her reasoning convincing and began to look at his troubles from a new angle.

“There’s no need to rush. You’re young and already at this level—many would be envious.” Her gentle smile was persuasive, and Zhao Li realized his earlier frustration had been somewhat unreasonable.

“So what should I do?” After a long pause, Zhao Li finally asked. He reached for his glass, only to find it empty.

“No rush!” She deftly took the cup from his hand, refilled it, and set it down before him. “There’s a simple, clumsy way—perseverance. Stick with it, keep practicing with determination and patience, and one day you’ll break through. Drink slowly; no one’s competing with you.”

“A clumsy way?” Zhao Li’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Sister Ban, does that mean there’s a clever way too?”

She laughed at his quick wit. “You, you’re a little imp!” Her laughter filled the cell like a warm spring breeze, making the atmosphere gentle and comfortable.

“There’s no real shortcut, only some advice.” She paused her laughter and walked to the window. “It’s the same with everything—haste makes waste. The bottleneck isn’t because you haven’t worked hard enough. Sheer effort alone doesn’t make a master.”

Effort alone can’t make a master? Zhao Li couldn’t quite understand, and wanted to argue, but didn’t want to contradict Ban Yun-chan directly.

She had already noticed. “If constant practice alone made a master, then the older you got, the stronger you’d be. But reality often isn’t like that.”

That was true. Zhao Li sensed a deeper meaning but couldn’t quite grasp it.

“In this world, nothing exists in isolation. The lessons we learn come from experience. There’s an old saying: ‘Understanding the ways of the world is knowledge; mastering human relationships is art.’ This applies to scholarship, and it applies equally to martial cultivation. Often, what matters most is not your technique, but your state of mind.”

Ban Yun-chan was young herself, yet always seemed to have a unique perspective.

“State of mind?” Zhao Li suddenly sat upright, fixing her with his gaze. “Sister Ban, I’ve never thought of that. What exactly do you mean by ‘state of mind’?”

“It’s exactly what you’ve been troubled by lately,” she replied with a smile.

It was as if a veil had lifted for Zhao Li, but even so, it remained elusive. He couldn’t help but ask, “What should I do, then?”

“Perhaps you should set aside your training for a while. Take time to watch the sea, gaze at the sky, listen to music, savor the wonders of nature—those are all worthwhile ways to spend your time.” Her smile remained gentle and warm. “Don’t get lost in your troubles. Sometimes, an outsider sees more clearly than those caught in the midst of things. Perhaps then you’ll understand.”

“And if you’re interested, talk to the people here. Listen to their stories. Believe me, each of them has experienced more in life than ten of you have. Their lives, their storms, their triumphs and setbacks—all are worth savoring. Reflecting on their journeys will benefit you, and your cultivation, more than you can imagine.”

Merry Christmas to all, once again! Onward in the rankings—please vote for me, and thank you all for your support!