Harmonious Flow Fist

The bluestone slabs of the training ground had been warmed slightly hot by the morning sun. Wang Yue stood tucked away at the edge of the crowd, his gaze unconsciously sweeping across the field.

The ranks had already been silently divided. The direct-line disciples stood shoulder to shoulder on the eastern side.

Each of them was built like a young bull, muscles faintly visible beneath their dark fitted outfits. Wooden spears and hammers rested casually at their sides, and a trace of pride clung to them.

Most of the branch-line disciples on the western side were thin and weak, dressed in faded cloth garments washed nearly white. They stood apart from one another, their eyes uneasy, like two utterly different stretches of river, their boundaries as clear as the Jing and Wei Rivers.

"How is this an 'assessment together'? They've plainly laid out the ranks of high and low."

Wang Yue clenched his sleeve, bitterness rising in his heart.

Just then, a jumble of footsteps came from the entrance. A dozen or so youths in coarse short garments followed a steward into the training ground.

Their faces were dark from the sun, thick calluses covered their hands from labor, and their eyes were full of curiosity and inexperience. They were likely outsiders recruited by the Wang Clan from across the county.

Steward Hu leaned close to Wang Hu and spoke in a low voice. Wang Yue vaguely caught the words, "Decades ago, I entered the Wang Clan the same way." Wang Hu nodded.

Steward Hu hurriedly had the newcomers line up properly.

At that moment, the training ground was completely divided into three groups. The direct-line group stood straight as pines.

The branch line appeared exceedingly restrained, while the newcomers in coarse hemp clothes lowered their heads. Clear gaps separated the three groups, like three rivers that could never converge.

"Quiet!"

A thunderous shout exploded. Wang Hu stepped forward twice, his chest rising and falling beneath his dark fitted outfit. His voice carried brute force, making Wang Yue's eardrums buzz.

He looked first at the newcomers. "The Wang Clan has given you an opportunity so that you can fight with your lives, not muddle through your days!

Steward Hu was once a farmer from the county outskirts. He only has what he does today because he trained in martial arts. If any of you achieve something, don't forget where this incense flame came from!" The newcomers clenched their fists, and beneath their nervousness, a little more ruthlessness seemed to emerge.

Wang Hu then swept his gaze over the direct line and branch line, his eyes sharp as blades. "Don't think you have privileges just because you belong to the clan! Today, the transmission of martial arts will treat everyone equally! Some of you wear fine clothes and feast well, while others rely on their parents mending clothes to survive, but before martial arts, none of that counts!

Seize this chance to refine your Blood Qi, and you can climb upward. Fail to seize it, and you'll spend your whole lives mediocre and drifting!"

He slapped the black iron stake beside him, producing a muffled boom. "The chance to defy the heavens and change your fate depends on how you perform today!"

Deathly silence swept across the training ground as wind rolled dust over the bluestone slabs.

The direct-line disciples' arrogance faded somewhat. The newcomers' fists turned white, while a gleam flashed through the branch-line disciples' eyes. Wang Hu's words were like a flame, igniting everyone's unwillingness to accept their lot.

Wang Yue touched the money pouch in his robes. Beneath his thin arms, determination filled his eyes. He would practice martial arts.

Afterward, Wang Hu had the guards carry over a Black Wooden Stake half a man tall. Its surface was smooth and glossy, covered in traces of years of blows.

He stood before the stake, his dark fitted outfit stirring without wind. His right hand clenched into a fist, and a sudden gust of fist wind rose. "Splitting Wave Hand!" Both hands drew arcs to either side. The movements were slow, yet carried the force to churn the air. His left foot stepped forward, and his waist twisted.

His right fist smashed into the wooden stake like racing thunder. "Wave-Stacking Fist!" A muffled boom made hearts tremble. The stake swayed slightly, and a clear fist mark remained on its surface.

There was not the slightest drag in his movements. The "softness" of the Splitting Wave Hand flowed seamlessly into the "hardness" of the Wave-Stacking Fist, yet the force was fierce beyond belief.

"Harmonious Flow Strike!" Wang Hu brought his feet together and thrust both fists forward. Blood Qi surged from the soles of his feet into his waist and abdomen, then poured into his fists, all of it crashing into the wooden stake.

The stake shook even harder, kicking up dust. Wang Yue stared at his movements, feeling that every twist of the waist and every breath contained the true meaning of the Harmonious Flow Fist. Yet it was so fast that the branch-line disciples and newcomers could only be left dazzled.

"Too fast... I can't remember it." A branch-line youth beside him crumpled the fist manual in his grip. After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Wang Hu withdrew his fists. The wooden stake was covered in fist marks.

He called over a direct-line disciple, Wang He. "Demonstrate it once slowly."

Two direct-line disciples carried over a reclining chair and handed him tea. Wang Hu reclined leisurely in the chair and drank.

Wang He walked before the stake, took a deep breath, and began his demonstration.

His movements were far slower than Wang Hu's. The arcs of the Splitting Wave Hand were slowed, and the force of the Wave-Stacking Fist was restrained, but the standard of each stance was not lacking in the slightest. "Pay attention to the angle of your arms in the Splitting Wave Hand. Don't use brute force!"

His soft explanation carried clearly across the training ground.

If you think this book is good, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you won't have trouble finding it next time.

The branch-line disciples and newcomers were finally able to keep up. Some compared their movements against the fist manual, while others mimicked the stances.

"Everyone, move! You only have half an hour!" Wang Hu took a sip of tea, his voice casual yet commanding.

The training ground immediately fell into chaos.

Among the direct-line disciples, more than a dozen who had practiced before performed the Harmonious Flow Fist smoothly. Though their force could not compare to Wang Hu's, they looked convincing enough. Those who were slightly worse occasionally stumbled, but could still keep up with the rhythm.

The branch-line disciples and newcomers, however, were in a miserable state. Some remembered the stances incorrectly, connecting the Splitting Wave Hand directly to the Harmonious Flow Strike, their movements twisted like puppets.

Some fell when stepping forward, drawing quiet snickers. Others stood rooted in place, unable to move for a long while.

Wang Yue stood at the edge of the branch-line group and did not rush to imitate them.

He closed his eyes and repeatedly recalled Wang He's slow demonstration. From the angle of the Splitting Wave Hand's arc to the timing of the Wave-Stacking Fist's step, he sorted through every detail of the moves in his mind bit by bit.

When he opened his eyes, he slowly raised his hands and practiced according to the rhythm in his memory. Though his body was thin and his strength lacking, the framework of every move was more orderly than that of most branch-line disciples around him, who were imitating in a panic.

Learn first, then practice.

His punching motions grew increasingly heavy. Fine sweat seeped from Wang Yue's temples, and his arms were so sore and numb that he could barely lift them.

Watching Wang He's fist speed gradually increase in the distance, he understood clearly: how could the martial path ever be achieved in a single step?

What he could do now was first commit the framework of the moves firmly to memory.

Wang He's demonstration grew faster and faster. The Splitting Wave Hand's arcs were nearly half again as quick, and many among the branch-line disciples and newcomers began to fall behind.

Wang Yue was struggling too. His gaze frequently shifted between the fist manual and Wang He. He occasionally raised his hands to imitate the movements. Though sluggish, he could barely follow the fist art's path, unlike the others who kept missing or mixing up moves.

"Phew..." After finishing half a set once more, Wang Yue braced himself on his knees and gasped, his chest heaving violently.

He lowered his head to look at the words in the fist manual, soaked through with sweat, and silently shook his head. It was too difficult. The time was too short.

Just then, footsteps sounded from the edge of the training ground.

Wang Yue looked up to see Wang Hu rise from the reclining chair, dust off the hem of his clothes, and leave.

More than a dozen direct-line disciples immediately withdrew their fists and followed him. Wang He ran to the back of the group. Before leaving, he looked back over the training ground, his eyes filled with the superiority of a direct-line disciple.

The moment their figures disappeared, the tense atmosphere in the field instantly relaxed.

"I'm exhausted!" A newcomer youth collapsed onto the ground, rubbing his aching arms. "This Harmonious Flow Fist is more tiring than carrying a hoe!"

The branch-line disciples also gathered together to chat. Someone held the fist manual and gazed into the distance longingly. "If I could train to become like Lord Wang Hu, I'd have status even in the direct line and receive silver every month!"

Someone lowered his voice. "If I can refine my Blood Qi, the first thing I'll do is make sure my parents don't have to mend clothes until midnight..." The training ground gradually grew lively. Some talked about the Wang Clan's status, some dreamed of the future, and some complained about their hardship.

Wang Yue stood to one side and carefully folded the fist manual before placing it in his robes.

At that moment, a branch-line disciple in gray cloth walked over. Thin calluses from fist practice covered his hands, and he had clearly encountered the Harmonious Flow Fist before. "Don't be happy too soon. Entering the gate of the Harmonious Flow Fist isn't that easy."

"Entering the gate? Isn't it enough to remember the moves?" a newcomer youth asked in confusion.

"Remembering the moves is only the first step!" The gray-clothed disciple pointed at the Black Wooden Stake. "Those fist marks were made through Lord Wang Hu's years of practice.

Our branch line has poor foundations. Without anyone to guide us, it will take at least one or two years just to touch the threshold of entry!"

Those words cooled the lively atmosphere by several degrees.

Some lowered their heads to look at their thin hands. Some gripped their fist manuals and hesitated. Others sighed. "One or two years... Who knows whether I can hold on until then?"

Wang Yue's heart also skipped a beat, but he touched the money pouch in his robes and remembered Wang Hu's words about defying the heavens and changing one's fate. His wavering was quickly suppressed. He raised his head to look at the Black Wooden Stake. Sunlight fell across the fist marks, making them gleam. Perhaps the road was long, but as long as he remembered the moves and tempered them slowly, perhaps he could do it too!

Wang Yue took a deep breath and followed the stream of people out of the training ground.

The fist manual in his robes still carried his body warmth. Every stance written upon it was like a step leading toward another kind of life.