Chengping Ward, the Sun Clan Martial Arts School.
The bluestone paving of the front courtyard's Martial Training Ground baked beneath the sun.
Jiang Haoyang held a horse stance, repeating the opening move of the Mountain Collapse Fist punch after punch. Though his fists carried some force, a distracted sluggishness always lingered in them.
His gaze kept straying toward the Martial Arts Hall's gates, his fists clenching and loosening.
His mind was a tangled mess, filled with images of Senior Brother Yang Jing.
Senior Brother must have reached Black Wind Valley by now, right?
The Flying Horse Bandits are so vicious. Will they kill him?
The more he thought about it, the harder it became to steady himself. His punching rhythm fell into disorder, and even his horse stance wavered.
Bang!
His fist struck the wooden post, but the force landed slightly off-center, leaving his knuckles numb.
Jiang Haoyang shook out his hand and took a deep breath, forcing his attention back to his boxing. Yet the worry in his heart was like a vine he could never tear apart.
Just then, a faint disturbance came from the entrance of the Martial Arts Hall.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Haoyang saw the servant disciple at the gatehouse jog inside, crossing the front courtyard toward the inner courtyard.
Before long, the servant disciple returned and led a middle-aged man in through the Martial Arts Hall's gates.
The man wore a sapphire-blue brocade robe with a jade belt at his waist. His face was fair, and he played with a string of jade beads as he walked at an unhurried pace.
The servant disciple followed close beside him, respectfully guiding him toward the inner courtyard.
Jiang Haoyang's gaze lingered on the finely dressed man's face, instinctively committing his appearance to