Qing Ming Held His Head High, Li Yu Was So Frustrated He Coughed Blood

"Draw your bows! Fire!"

When the morning sun shone into the village, the youths of the Qing Yi Tribe stood in neat formation on the Martial Arts Field under the leadership of the archer Qing Ying.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Arrows left their strings, whistling through the air.

One after another, the arrows sank deep into the ironwood targets. The arrow fletching made from eagle feathers trembled with a buzzing hum.

"Bullseye, three inches into the wood. Not bad, you little brats. You haven't been slacking off these past few days."

Qing Ying glanced at the targets and was fairly satisfied with the youths' archery.

Hitting the bullseye was the basic requirement, but piercing three inches into the wood demonstrated strength. To shoot three inches into an ironwood target, these youths had to be at least at the sixth stage of the Witch-Human Realm.

In a large tribe, such strength would naturally not amount to much. But in a small tribe like the Qing Yi Tribe, it was already quite decent.

"Tap, tap, tap!"

At that moment, a series of footsteps rang out.

Everyone turned to look and saw Qing Ming carrying a longbow as he slowly walked toward the target range with heavy steps.

"Why is Qing Ming here again?"

Qing Ying, who taught the youths archery, could not help sighing and shaking his head when he saw that stubborn, resilient boy.

In this world, there were many things that could not be achieved through hard work alone.

"Qing Ming? Why is that useless cripple here again?"

"How could he not come? Any youth in the tribe who doesn't participate in training doesn't get food. If he doesn't come, is he supposed to starve to death?"

"What can he even train like that? He can't even see. Can he still