Early morning.
The mist was like a thin veil, and the grass was covered in white frost.
In front of the courtyard gate, an ox-cart moved forward slowly. Yang the Third, a peddler from Yang Family Village, sat on a wooden plank between the cart’s two shafts, driving the ox with reins in hand. In the back of the cart lay two bulging hemp sacks. Seated beside them were Yang Jing and Yang the Third’s son—another boy about Yang Jing’s age.
"Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, Aunt, Brother An, I’m leaving now. You should all go back inside," Yang Jing said, waving.
Yang An stood at the gate, watching Yang Jing recede into the distance on the ox-cart, a complex mix of envy and emotion in his eyes.
Unlike the others, this was the first ti Yang An had ever seen Yang Jing off.
He used to hold so animosity toward Yang Jing, feeling that their grandparents favored him.
But now, looking at his cousin, he finally understood the aning of "blood is thicker than water." It was a bond that couldn’t be broken. Despite all his past envy, jealousy, and hostility, ever since Yang Jing had shown him kindness, an irrepressible warmth and kinship had grown in his heart.
"Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt, I’m heading back now," Yang An announced before darting back ho.
"That boy... He must be off to train again, following the routine Jing’Er made for him," Madam Xue said with a laugh.
...
Yang Jing leaned against a hemp sack, thinking about the training regin he had designed for Yang An.
Although he couldn’t teach Yang An the Mountain-Shattering Fist, his ti at the Martial Arts Hall had taught him a few thods for tempering qi and blood. The most direct, crude, and effective of these was simply lifting stones.
You started with light stones and moved to heavy ones, constantly increasing the weight to temper your qi and blood. This built a solid foundation for formal martial arts training in the future.
"Yang the Third, heading into town again?"
Just then, a slightly sharp voice called out, and the ox-cart ca to a swift halt.
The voice sounded familiar to Yang Jing, and a mont later, he placed it. Turning to look ahead of the ox-cart, he saw a group of n blocking the road. Their leader was none other than Feng Lei, the major hoodlum he had seen just yesterday.
"Ah, Brother Feng! What brings you here for a rest today?" Yang the Third hopped down from the cart shaft, greeting Feng Lei with a placating smile. He fumbled in a hemp sack, pulled out a small, palm-sized cloth pouch, and tossed it over. "These are mung bean cakes from Suxinzhai, Old Madam Fei’s favorite. She has buy a large batch from the city every month. They’re excellent. Have a taste, Brother Feng. A little treat for you and the boys."
The Fei Family was a prominent gentry family in Wazi Town, their influence rivaling that of the Ning Family, who backed Feng Lei.
Yang the Third was just a lowly peddler. He had no real connection to Old Madam Fei; she had simply bought mung bean cakes from him once. He was rely borrowing her formidable na to scare off Feng Lei.
Feng Lei caught the small pouch, tucked it into his robes, and chuckled. "Thanks, Yang the Third."
With that, he gave a slight wave, motioning for his n to clear the path. But he himself walked over to the side of the cart, his eyes landing on Yang Jing. "Well, if it isn’t little Jing. Off to the Martial Arts Hall to train again? If you ask , you should just quit. What’ll you have to show for it in the end? You think you’ll ever be able to block a fist the size of my clay pot?"
As he spoke, Feng Lei raised his fist in a threatening gesture.
"I don’t know if I could block Brother Feng’s fist," Yang Jing said, shaking his head. Then, his eyes lit up with anticipation. "However, I’ve arranged to go drinking with a few of my fellow disciples at the Baihua Pavilion tonight. Why don’t you co with us, Brother Feng? You can see whether my senior brother, who has already developed his Jin, can block that clay-pot-sized fist of yours."
Feng Lei’s mouth twitched slightly when he heard this.
He wasn’t a martial artist, but even he knew about the renowned power of Jin experts.
Forget him—even his backer, Master Ning, wouldn’t dare to lightly offend a master of Jin.
The only reason he dared to pressure the Yang Family was his certainty that Yang Jing would never develop Jin. From what he’d heard, only one in twenty or thirty people with the aptitude for martial arts ever beca a Jin expert.
"No need for that. I prefer staying in the countryside. You go on ahead," Feng Lei said with a sinister chuckle. The thick muscles on his face twitched, adding to his ferocious appearance and causing Yang the Third’s son to tremble in fear in the back of the cart.
"Well, since Brother Feng isn’t coming to the city with us, we’ll be on our way. Until next ti," Yang the Third said with a smile, then cracked his whip and drove the ox-cart forward.
"Wait." Feng Lei called out again after the ox-cart had traveled sixty or seventy feet.
His eyes fell on Yang Jing, and he grinned. "Little Jing, when you get the chance, try to persuade your grandfather. It would be much better to sell those two mu of land to the north for so silver coins. You need silver for your training, and you certainly need silver to treat your fellow disciples. Am I right?"
Yang Jing’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face hardening, but he refused to grace Feng Lei with a response.
"In one month, I’ll drop by your house for a visit. I hope things go well for all of you until then. Hahaha! Go on, get going," Feng Lei said with a light laugh, waving them away.
The ox-cart trundled away into the distance.
Soon, they had left Yang Family Village behind.
Sitting in the back of the cart, Yang Jing furrowed his brow, a growing sense of urgency pressing down on him.
Feng Lei and his backer, Master Ning, had now set their sights on the Yang Family’s two mu of high-grade farmland north of the village.
Those were the last two mu of high-grade land the Yang Family owned. The family was barely managing to stay afloat, and that land played a huge part. To make matters worse, the price Master Ning was offering wasn’t even a third of its market value.
If they didn’t sell the two mu of high-grade land to Master Ning, the consequences...
Ti passed slowly.
Around noon, the ox-cart finally entered the city of Yuhe County.
The city of Yuhe County was generally divided into an Inner City and an Outer City, each composed of many smaller districts known as squares.
After entering the city, Yang Jing parted ways with Yang the Third and his son, heading alone towards Chengping Square.
Yang Jing arrived at Chengping Square and followed the road past one courtyard after another, finally stopping before a pair of vermilion gates.
Above the gates hung a rectangular plaque bearing four large words: Sun’s Martial Arts Hall.
Yang Jing walked up to the gates and, with practiced ease, pushed them open and went inside.
Beyond the gates lay a spacious courtyard flanked by rows of weapon racks. They were filled with a vast array of arms: sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, and tridents.
The courtyard also held stone barbells—similar to the ones from Yang Jing’s past life—constructed from a long wooden pole with a circular stone weight on each end. There were also stone locks, stone blocks, wooden training dummies, plum blossom poles, sandbags, and other apparatuses for tempering qi and blood and practicing techniques.
At that mont, a dozen or so bare-chested n were training in the courtyard.
"Junior Brother Yang, you’re back?"
Just then, a sowhat gruff voice called out.
Yang Jing turned his head and saw a tall, dark-skinned man walking over.
Information about the tall man surfaced in Yang Jing’s mind.
His na was Liu Maolin. He ca from a family that ran a dical hall and was known for being warm-hearted and honest. He had been studying under the Hall Master for many years and was ranked fourth among the official disciples.
"Greetings, Fourth Senior Brother," Yang Jing said, hastily clasping his hands in salute.
"Right. You were gone for a while this ti. Don’t let it hinder your qi and blood tempering. Go on, get to your fist practice. If you don’t understand sothing, just co and ask ," said Liu Maolin.
"Yes, Fourth Senior Brother," Yang Jing replied with a nod.
Liu Maolin nodded with a light chuckle, then walked over to another disciple to offer guidance.
Yang Jing took off his shirt, baring his torso, and walked over to a pair of stone locks, preparing to first work on his qi and blood as a warm-up.
Taking a slow breath, Yang Jing fixed his gaze on the two dusty stone locks. In an instant, the muscles of his bronze back tensed. Following the technique he rembered, he bent his knees, leaned forward, and wrapped his calloused hands around the calf-high stone locks. His fingertips whitened from the strain, and the veins on his forearms bulged, coiling like horned dragons.
"HAH!"
With a low shout, he steadily lifted the stone locks. The muscles in his waist and abdon contracted sharply into tight blocks, as if every inch of his body was exerting force.
Ti passed slowly.
As he trained, sweat trickled down his jawline. His skin took on a reddish glow, almost seeming to steam. It felt as though an invisible current of energy was surging through him, flooding his limbs with every exertion and sharpening his gaze until it was crystal clear.
"Junior Brother Yang, you’re finally back?!"
Hearing the sound behind him, Yang Jing set down the stone locks and turned around.
Two n and a woman were walking toward him. All three looked a bit pale, and the two n’s steps were noticeably unsteady, especially compared to the other disciples in the courtyard.
’Senior Brother Lv, Senior Brother Zhang, and Senior Sister Zhou,’ Yang Jing thought. His brow furrowed for a mont before he smoothed his expression into a polite smile and walked over to greet them.
These three were the sort of disciples with poor aptitude who never put in the effort to train. In another six months, if they still hadn’t developed Jin, the Hall Master would expel them from the Martial Arts Hall. Afterward, they would be forbidden from ever using the Sun’s Martial Arts Hall na.
Within Sun’s Martial Arts Hall, there were many small cliques—so high-quality, so low-quality.
The previous owner of his body had belonged to the sa clique as these three. They spent their days slacking off instead of training, frequently going out carousing with their disreputable friends.
What left Yang Jing the most exasperated was that his predecessor had been dirt poor, yet he’d insisted on putting on a brave face and pretending to be wealthy. He had repeatedly offered to pay the bill for these "senior brothers and sisters," all in the hopes of currying favor and getting so help from them down the line.
"Junior Brother Yang, you’re looking much more toned than before," Senior Sister Zhou remarked, her eyes lighting up with surprise as they swept over the tight, well-defined lines of his muscles.
He’d had muscles before, but they never looked so full of explosive potential, radiating a sense of raw power. He was still a long way from the hulking figures elsewhere in the courtyard, but he was undeniably in much better shape than he used to be.
"It’s probably because I’ve been training at ho recently. It seems to have had so effect," Yang Jing said with a smile.
He wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t been idle during the half-month he was at ho.
According to the ability described on his status panel, he just needed to cultivate a martial art to its absolute peak to break through to the next level without any bottlenecks.
Therefore, his most important task right now was to cultivate the Mountain-Shattering Fist to its peak.
"Training at ho?" Senior Sister Zhou sounded surprised.
’We barely put our all into training here at the hall,’ she thought, ’and Yang Jing is training by himself at ho?’
Senior Brother Lv, however, dismissed Yang Jing’s words. In his mind, as long as you hadn’t developed Jin, you were only slightly stronger than an ordinary person. And given Yang Jing’s poor aptitude, even if he trained himself to death—let alone with his usual lazy attitude—his chances of developing Jin were practically zero.
"Junior Brother Yang, there’s a gathering at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion tonight. Senior Sister Qi might even attend. You should co," Senior Brother Lv said, his tone one of casual command, as if allowing Yang Jing to tag along was a great honor.
"Senior Brother Lv, I have sothing to do tonight, so I can’t make it. You all drink up and have a good ti."
Yang Jing kept a smile on his face, but he was groaning internally. ’I can’t believe it. On the way here, I bluffed Feng Lei about a disciple gathering tonight, and now it’s actually happening.’ Of course, knowing the habits of his predecessor and this particular group, drinking parties were practically routine.
In his predecessor’s small circle, Senior Brother Lv—Lv Yang—was the leader. This wasn’t just because Lv Yang ca from a wealthy family, but more importantly, because he was close with Senior Sister Qi.
Senior Sister Qi’s full na was Qi Yun. She was an official disciple of the Hall Master, Sun Yong, and ranked second among them.
From the mories he’d inherited, Yang Jing knew that Lv Yang, Zhang Kehan, Zhou Lin, and his own predecessor had all tried to suck up to Qi Yun, hoping to ride her coattails. But Qi Yun held his predecessor and Zhang Kehan in low regard.
Lv Yang and Zhou Lin ca from money and could offer Qi Yun certain benefits. Zhang Kehan, from a commoner family, and Yang Jing, from a peasant family, offered her nothing of value.
In the mories Yang Jing had absorbed, his predecessor had repeatedly paid for their gatherings, hoping to make Qi Yun see him in a better light. He had racked up considerable debt for this, yet he never received so much as a single polite word from her in return.
Often, Yang Jing just wanted to curse his predecessor. ’Everyone already looked down on him, and he didn’t even have the pride to fight for himself!’
"Hm?" Senior Brother Lv frowned, surprised that this country boy, Yang Jing, would actually refuse the invitation, especially after hearing that Senior Sister Qi might be there.
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