Morning.
In the courtyard of a ho in Tongyi Square.
After washing up, Yang Jing wiped his face with a cloth towel.
On the eight-immortals table in the main house, Yang An had already laid out the al.
There was a large basin of tiger at stewed until tender, its broth thick and steaming.
Beside it sat a dish of pickled vegetables and two bowls of white congee, their rising steam turning to mist in the morning light.
"Hurry and eat while it’s hot. I stewed this tiger at for half the night and even added so warming, restorative herbs."
Yang An grinned as he ladled a bowl of congee for Yang Jing. "The training ground trials are exhausting. Eat up and replenish your strength."
Yang Jing sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and took a piece of tiger at.
The at was tender, with a faint dicinal fragrance. It was clear a lot of care had gone into its preparation.
He chewed slowly, feeling the essence of the tiger at resonate with the lingering dicinal power of the Qi Storage Pill in his body. A pleasant warmth spread from his dantian, making him feel exceptionally comfortable.
Usually, he had a huge appetite, and a jin of at would barely tide him over. But today, with the power of the Qi Storage Pill circulating within him, his stomach felt as if it were filled with a warm current. After eating just one jin, he felt full.
"Why aren’t you eating more?"
Seeing him put down his chopsticks, Yang An was a little confused. "This tiger at is a real treasure, you know. It’s ridiculously expensive. The hunter said it can replenish qi and blood and strengthen your muscles and bones."
"This is enough," Yang Jing said with a smile, wiping his mouth. "I won’t eat so much today."
Yang An humd in understanding and nodded. "Then you should get to the Martial Arts Hall. Don’t be late."
Yang Jing agreed, then stood, straightened his collar, picked up his cloth bag, and strode out of the courtyard.
The early morning breeze carried the fresh scent of grass and trees, feeling wonderfully refreshing on his face.
...
Just as the morning light began to spill over the green bricks and gray tiles of Chengping Square, the vermilion-lacquered main gate of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall was gently pushed open.
Yang Jing stepped inside. The front courtyard was empty except for a few handyn responsible for sweeping. They were in a corner clearing fallen leaves with their brooms. Hearing the gate open, they looked up and saw Yang Jing, imdiately dropping their work to bow in greeting.
"Good morning, Senior Brother Yang!"
One of the youths, a handyman in a short gray-cloth jacket, spoke the loudest. His face showed clear reverence, and he nearly dropped the broom in his hands.
The other handyn hastily followed suit, greeting Yang Jing.
Everyone knew that this Senior Brother Yang was now a favorite of the Hall Master. He was the champion of the seventh ring in the training ground trials. From now on, his standing in the Martial Arts Hall would likely rival that of Senior Brother Lin Yue.
Yang Jing observed their reserved yet eager expressions and offered a faint smile, giving them a slight nod.
The morning light grew brighter.
Yang Jing walked to a corner of the front courtyard, unfastened his collar, and casually draped his outer shirt over a nearby weapons rack, revealing the smooth lines of his shoulders and back.
Years of martial arts practice had given him a perfectly straight posture. The muscles around his shoulder blades rippled with his movents—powerful, but not knotted or bulky.
He then moved to a spacious spot in the center of the courtyard, preparing to practice his fists.
He had taken a Qi Storage Pill that morning, and its dicinal power was still surging through his body, making him feel hot and restless. He felt an urgent need to vent this energy by throwing so punches.
"Hah!"
With a deep shout, he launched into the fierce opening stance of the Mountain-Shattering Fist. The wind from his punch swept across the ground, kicking up a few dew-covered leaves.
His fist struck the empty air with a dull THUD, making the very air around it tremble slightly.
The warm current inside him flowed with the montum of his fist, coursing through his ridians. Wherever it passed, his qi and blood surged with even greater intensity.
As he reached the peak of his practice, his footwork suddenly changed, and he began executing the steps of the Raging Waves Leg Technique.
His body moved like a surging tide. A slight turn of his ankle sent him gliding over ten feet away, his toes tapping the ground leaving swift afterimages. At one mont, he was like a startled swan skimming the water; the next, like a furious wave crashing against the shore.
He had already revealed this leg technique at the training grounds yesterday, so there was no need to hide it now. He simply rged the ferocity of the Mountain-Shattering Fist with the agility of the Raging Waves Leg Technique. His punches carried the wind and his kicks landed with power. He perford the entire set with the grace of moving clouds and flowing water, feeling utterly invigorated.
The Moon Gate to the inner courtyard creaked open, and Sun Yong erged with his hands clasped behind his back.
He was dressed in a simple, plain-colored training uniform and saw the focused figure in the front courtyard from a distance.
He paused, his gaze fixed on Yang Jing’s fist techniques and footwork. His initially calm expression gradually filled with approval, and he couldn’t help but nod lightly.
’This disciple of mine isn’t just talented. What’s rarer is his diligence.’
’So many disciples slack off after the slightest achievent, yet he cos here to train hard first thing in the morning, even after his success. This mindset alone puts him far above ordinary people.’
Yang Jing was just about to execute a "Mountain-Shattering Stone-Splitting" punch when he suddenly sensed a gaze from behind. He froze mid-motion, turned to see Sun Yong, and quickly retracted his stance, bowing. "Master."
"Continue," Sun Yong said, waving his hand as he walked over slowly. His eyes fell on Yang Jing’s sweat-drenched shoulders. "I see you’ve rged the Raging Waves Leg Technique and the Mountain-Shattering Fist?"
Yang Jing acknowledged and resud his stance.
Sun Yong watched quietly from the side, occasionally speaking up during the transitions between moves. "That’s not right. Leg techniques generally emphasize a low center of gravity. When you lifted your leg just now, your waist didn’t generate enough power, slowing you down by half a beat."
Although Sun Yong had never seen the manual for the Raging Waves Leg Technique, he had witnessed countless other leg-based martial arts. With his own high level of cultivation, he was still perfectly capable of guiding Yang Jing in his practice of body techniques.
He picked up a branch and drew a simple footwork diagram on the ground. "Watch closely. Land on the inside of your foot first, then use that montum to twist your waist. Only then can the force from your leg be released along the proper path. It’ll be both faster and more stable."
Yang Jing adjusted his footwork according to the instructions and imdiately felt the flow of power from his feet beco much smoother. When he executed the leg technique, it now had far more explosive force.
Seeing how quickly he grasped the key, the smile in Sun Yong’s eyes deepened.
After offering a few more pointers, Sun Yong clasped his hands behind his back and returned to the inner courtyard.
...
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