Yuhe County City, Chengping District, Sun Family Martial Hall.
In the front courtyard, the bluestone slabs were damp with morning dew, gleaming with a cold light.
Yang Jing had arrived very early. Including him, there were only two or three people in the courtyard.
At this moment, Yang Jing was bare-chested, his bronze back streaming with beads of sweat in the morning light, trickling down his taut muscle lines and splashing onto the ground, leaving a small damp patch.
Time passed slowly.
More and more disciples arrived to practice in the courtyard.
"Junior Brother Yang, your fist technique is growing increasingly powerful. Come, come, let's spar." Liu Maolin walked over with a smile.
Yang Jing's eyes lit up. He quickly wiped his sweat with a cloth towel. "I'd welcome nothing more. Senior Brother, please go easy on me."
Over the past two months, Yang Jing had grown quite familiar with Liu Maolin, and he spoke much more freely than before.
He knew that Fourth Senior Brother had long since cultivated force, and his attainment in the Collapsing Mountain Fist was far beyond his own.
During these two months, the two had frequently sparred. With Fourth Senior Brother's guidance, every session enlightened him to many crucial points of exerting force, greatly benefiting him.
The two took their stances and exchanged fist-and-palm salutes, then simultaneously sank their waists and restrained their breathing. Their opening moves were carved from the same mold—after all, they had learned from the same master.
"Junior Brother, here I come." Liu Maolin grinned. Against his dark skin, his teeth appeared exceptionally white and bright.
Yang Jing responded with complete focus.
Liu Maolin's fists appeared unhurried, yet they could always gently redirect just as Yang Jing's strike was about to land, either shifting his body to evade or using subtle force to neutralize Yang Jing's power. He seemed to handle it with ease, but every block and every guidance conformed to the essence of the Collapsing Mountain Fist.
The more Yang Jing fought, the more immersed he became. He brought forth all the insights he had gained from his recent practice, and his fist strikes grew increasingly fierce.
But no matter how he changed his techniques, they were effortlessly neutralized by Liu Maolin. Occasionally, borrowing the force of a collision, Liu would lightly press on his arm, and that slight touch served as a reminder, instantly making him aware of the awkwardness in his force exertion.
Yang Jing knew clearly in his heart—this was no ordinary spar from Fourth Senior Brother. He was accompanying him in practice, deliberately suppressing his strength to feed him moves.
This thoughtfulness warmed his heart more than any direct guidance, and the force behind his fists grew even stronger.
After dozens of heated exchanges, sweat poured more heavily from Yang Jing's forehead, and his breathing grew somewhat rapid. Yet his eyes were bright, and every bone and sinew in his body radiated exhilaration.
Seeing Yang Jing's fist path gradually smooth out, Liu Maolin suddenly flashed a sharp gleam in his eyes. His originally gentle fist strikes abruptly carried a heavy, sinking force.
This was not a vicious move meant to injure. Borrowing from a collision, his wrist lightly flipped, and a burst of subtle force surged along Yang Jing's arm.
Yang Jing felt a force push toward him like tidal waves. His feet involuntarily retreated three steps before he stabilized himself.
He had just wanted to press forward again when he saw Liu Maolin withdraw his fists and smile. "Junior Brother's progress is fast. In a few more days, I'm afraid you'll be ready to assault the gate."
Yang Jing straightened his body and solemnly cupped his fists and bowed. "Many thanks for Fourth Senior Brother's guidance. I've gained enlightenment on several more crucial points."
In a corner of the courtyard, an old locust tree's branches and leaves swayed, concealing three figures.
Lu Yang leaned against the tree trunk, spinning a copper coin at his fingertip. His gaze slanted toward the two in the field who had stopped their sparring, the corner of his mouth carrying a few degrees of mockery.
Zhou Lin stood to the side with her arms crossed. Her willow brows arched slightly, and her gaze circled around Yang Jing as if looking at some curious object. Finally, she let out a sneer and shook her head.
Zhang Kehan scratched his chin, his face bearing undisguised contempt.
"Hah, this kid's really putting on airs." Lu Yang sneered, the copper coin stopping between his fingers. "He used to hang with us, but now he's imitating those hot-headed youngsters, foolishly training in fists all day. Does he really think he can work miracles?"
Zhou Lin let out a light hum, her voice carrying a sharp edge. "Isn't that right? Fourth Senior Brother also has a good temper, to actually accompany him in such fuss. That kid's moves just now looked somewhat more presentable than before, but if we're truly discussing the essence of the Collapsing Mountain Fist, he's still far from it."
She glanced at Yang Jing, recalling how this person used to follow them around, brown-nosing, paying for their drinks, and acting like a lackey. Seeing his current sweat-drenched posture, she found it nothing but an eyesore.
Zhang Kehan picked up the conversation. "So what if it looks presentable? Don't forget, what's next is assaulting the gate. Tsk tsk, Ming Jin... that's not something you can achieve by training foolishly."
He paused, the contempt in his tone growing thicker. "How many people in our martial hall are stuck at this step? Weren't most of the previous disciples blocked here and finally forced to leave in dejection?"
Compared to Lu Yang and Zhou Lin, who were children of wealthy families, Zhang Kehan's background was the most ordinary, and also the closest to Yang Jing's.
In the past, when Yang Jing followed them around, he had often treated Yang Jing like a little brother to order about. But now that Yang Jing no longer hung out with them, he had become the lowest in status among the three, and all trivial matters fell to him to handle.
Therefore, compared to Lu Yang and Zhou Lin, Zhang Kehan was the one who resented Yang Jing the most, the most dissatisfied with him. At this moment, looking at Yang Jing's figure, he sneered coldly:
"How difficult is assaulting the gate? Out of twenty or thirty people who attempt it, perhaps not even one will succeed.
"What kind of root bone does he, Yang Jing, have? Merely an inferior root bone, and even among inferior ones, his is considered poor. When he used to follow behind us, even his horse stance was shakier than others'. With such poor root bone, he actually wants to reach the heavens in a single step?"
Lu Yang nodded. "Right, assaulting the gate is no joke. If things go wrong, you can injure your meridians. Next time you want to try, it'll be doubly difficult. Fail three times, and you'll have no chance in this lifetime."
He flicked the copper coin in his hand and sneered, "I really want to see what kind of miserable sight this kid makes after failing to assault the gate. Heh, does he really think that by leaving us and hanging out with Liu Maolin, he can be reborn?"
"In my opinion, at most he'll only dare to try once."
Zhou Lin pursed her lips. "When the time comes and he gets injured, hurting so much he cries for his parents, he'll definitely want to hang out with us again. But whether we'll accept him then is another matter. Moreover—"
Her tone shifted, carrying a hint of schadenfreude. "Senior Brother Lu and I have both experienced assaulting the gate once. We know how dangerous it is. With Yang Jing's capabilities, I'm afraid he won't even endure his first attempt at assaulting the gate. He might directly become a cripple."
The three watched Yang Jing with ridicule.
All of them were convinced Yang Jing would fail in assaulting the gate, eagerly anticipating the miserable sight of his failure.
They knew Yang Jing's root bone, and they understood too clearly the difficulty of a martial dao breakthrough by assaulting the gate.
Zhang Kehan watched Yang Jing's figure, finding it increasingly obtrusive. He silently waited, waiting to see Yang Jing fall and shatter into pieces, so that he could understand that some things cannot be exchanged for with a moment of hot-bloodedness.
With inadequate root bone, no matter how hard one tried, it was futile.
On the other side, Yang Jing had not noticed Lu Yang's group, or rather, he simply didn't care about them.
Nowadays, Yang Jing buried himself in cultivation all day long and had long since cast Lu Yang and the others to the back of his mind.
At this moment, Yang Jing was somewhat excitedly looking at the panel data displaying his martial arts progress—