When he returned to the martial arts hall, the sun had already passed its zenith.
Yang Jing removed his upper garment and began tempering his qi and blood.
As he tempered his qi and blood, a panel surfaced before his eyes—
[Mountain-Crushing Fist: Minor Success (1/500)]
Following his breakthrough to the Manifested Strength realm, the Mountain-Crushing Fist had also advanced from the Entry-level stage to the Minor Success stage.
Yang Jing first practiced a set of fundamental fist techniques in the courtyard, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead.
Then he walked over to the stone lock, took a deep breath, bent down, and steadily lifted the fifty-jin stone lock.
The bear meat he had eaten at noon was truly nourishing. A warm energy constantly lingered in his dantian, making the stone lock feel noticeably easier to lift than usual, and even his qi and blood circulated with unusual smoothness.
Yang Jing then switched to the stone yoke, pressing it across his shoulders to perform squats. Between each rise and fall, he could seemingly feel the energy of the bear meat spreading through his tendons and bones. The sore, swollen sensation was dispelled by a gentle force, and his entire body radiated a comfortable warmth.
After finishing these, his warm-up was complete, and Yang Jing began practicing the Mountain-Crushing Fist again.
“Sink your breath down. Don’t let it float in your chest.”
A steady, rich voice rang out. Sun Yong had emerged from the inner courtyard at some unknown point and come up behind Yang Jing, his gaze fixed on Yang Jing’s fist technique movements. “The Minor Success stage of the Mountain-Crushing Fist emphasizes ‘force issued from the spine, fist following the qi.’ When you punched just now, your waist and hips didn’t twist into place, so your power scattered.”
“Greetings, Master.” Yang Jing hurriedly bowed in salute.
He was now a formal disciple. According to the rules, it was proper to address him as “Master.”
Sun Yong nodded. Dressed in black, his aura was heavy and steady, hands clasped behind his back. He gave a slight nod and said, “Since you have already entered Manifested Strength, you must formally begin training the second stage of the Mountain-Crushing Fist—that is, the Minor Success stage.”
Yang Jing listened attentively.
Sun Yong continued, “This level emphasizes ‘force penetrating the muscle fibers.’ You must integrate Manifested Strength into your techniques, achieving such that every punch carries an edge, and every touch leaves a mark.”
Yang Jing listened to Sun Yong’s explanation, his mind racing as he carefully pondered the words.
Sun Yong stepped forward, grasped his wrist, and guided him to reset his fist stance. “Watch closely. When punching, first sink the shoulders and drop the elbows. Send qi into the dantian and let internal force push up along the spine. When it reaches the shoulder, explode fiercely—yes, just like that!”
He demonstrated personally, breaking down every movement with perfect clarity.
From the crucial points of exerting force to the pathways of qi and blood circulation, his explanation was meticulous and thorough.
Yang Jing focused intently, committing every key point to memory.
The other nearby disciples who had not yet entered the strength realm watched with envy. This was the gap between formal disciples and nominal disciples.
Once one became a formal disciple, that was a true master-disciple relationship.
Sun Yong’s instruction was far more earnest and detailed than when he dealt with nominal disciples.
Yang Jing followed the instructions. He felt as though the energy of the bear meat within his body had been ignited, flowing along with his fist momentum. Every punch he threw carried a dull sound of tearing through the air.
In the past, practicing to this point had always caused his tendons and bones to feel tight, but today it was exceptionally smooth. The fist wind swept through the air, faintly carrying the intent of “crushing mountains.”
The more he practiced, the more absorbed he became. The intense exercise rapidly broke down the nutrients from the bear meat in his body, transforming them into energy that merged into him. It was as if every inch of muscle in his body was cheering.
Watching Yang Jing’s focused appearance as he practiced fist techniques, even Sun Yong nodded slightly, a flash of approval in his eyes.
After completing the set, although Yang Jing’s breathing was somewhat ragged, he felt no exhaustion at all. Instead, he felt completely relaxed and comfortable throughout his body.
Sun Yong stepped forward and pinched his shoulders, back, and waist. The tendons and bones his fingertips touched were truly not outstanding—his bone foundation could only be considered inferior.
He withdrew his hand and sighed softly in his heart.
‘So it seems this boy’s smooth breakthrough to Manifested Strength was indeed mostly luck. With this bone foundation, wanting to advance further to the Hidden Strength realm holds almost no hope.’
“Mmm, your stance has stabilized somewhat,” Sun Yong’s tone grew somewhat flat. “But ultimately, one’s foundation is their bone structure. Your bone foundation is poor; moving forward, you must practice even more diligently and not slack off.”
The weight in his words had faded somewhat compared to before.
Yang Jing replied with a smile, “This disciple has taken it to heart. Thank you for your guidance, Master!”
Sun Yong nodded. After offering a few words of encouragement, he turned and walked toward Lin Yue in the distance, beginning to instruct this genius of the martial arts hall.
In his eyes, the one who could truly shoulder the burden of the Sun family’s martial arts hall in the future would still have to be a genius of superior bone foundation like Lin Yue.
After noticing that Lin Yue seemed to have feelings for his daughter, Sun Ningxiang, he had even thought of playing matchmaker between the two. If Lin Yue could become his son-in-law, then even after he passed away, with Lin Yue present, he would not have to worry about the martial arts hall or his daughter.
Dusk settled heavily.
In a tavern in the southern part of the city, Lü Yang had just pushed aside the curtain and entered when he saw Zhou Lin and Zhang Kehan sitting in a corner, both wearing terrible expressions. They had barely touched the food and wine on the table.
“What’s going on here?” Lü Yang pulled over a chair and sat down, pouring himself a cup of wine. “I just got back from collecting goods in the prefectural capital. I haven’t even gone home yet and came straight here to find you two, and you’re greeting me with these long faces?”
Last month, he had failed his second attempt at breaking through, injuring his vital energy and completely extinguishing any hope of breaking through to Manifested Strength. Helpless, he had slunk away from Sun’s Martial Arts Hall and followed his family’s elders into the fur trade business.
Zhou Lin didn’t respond. He glared at the sauced beef on the table, his tone stuffy. “That kid Yang Jing made it.”
“Made what?” Lü Yang’s hand holding the wine cup paused. He didn’t catch on.
“Broke through! Manifested Strength!” Zhang Kehan said through gritted teeth, his voice carrying an indescribable sense of grievance. “This morning, right there in the courtyard, the hall master said so himself. I also asked Senior Sister Qi Yun—that kid really did enter the strength realm!”
Lü Yang burst out laughing with a “pfft” and set his wine cup on the table. “Are you two pulling my leg? Yang Jing? With his bone foundation? It’s much worse than all three of ours, and he can achieve Manifested Strength? Stop kidding. This joke is pretty funny, heh—”
As he spoke, his eyes flicked to the faces of Zhou Lin and Zhang Kehan.
Neither of their faces held the slightest trace of a smile. The shock and unwillingness in their eyes could not be faked.
The smile on Lü Yang’s face slowly froze. His heart dropped with a thud, as if struck by something.
“You... you’re serious?” His voice even trembled slightly.
Zhou Lin nodded, picked up his wine cup, and took a fierce gulp. Wine trickled down from the corner of his mouth. “Absolutely true. We were watching right beside him. He punched an imprint into the wooden post with one blow. The hall master said it himself—he’s entered Manifested Strength.”
Punching an imprint into a wooden post with one blow—if that landed on a person, wouldn’t it knock them down in one hit? If it struck some vital area, it could even instantly kill an ordinary person.
“Impossible...” Lü Yang muttered to himself, his brows twisting into knots. His face instantly turned ashen, more uncomfortable than if he had swallowed a fly.
He clearly remembered back when Yang Jing used to hang around with him, Yang Jing couldn’t even memorize the most basic fist routines. His bone foundation had even been assessed by Senior Sister Qi Yun as “the lowest of the low.”
His own bone foundation was far superior to Yang Jing’s. If he hadn’t succeeded, what right did that kid have?
An indescribable taste clogged his chest—there was jealousy, unwillingness, and a bit of inexplicable panic.
He thought of his own wretchedness when he left the martial arts hall, thought of his parents’ disappointed sighs. Then he thought of how Yang Jing was now the hall master’s formal disciple, able to walk around Yuhe County brandishing the name of the hall master’s disciple... This contrast stabbed at him like needles, making him unable to sit still.
“How could he...” Lü Yang repeated again, his voice full of disbelief. His fingers gripped the wine cup tightly, his knuckles turning white.
The candle flames in the small tavern flickered, illuminating the three men’s silent, ugly faces.