Martial Arts Progress

Yuhe County City, Chengping Ward, Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

In the front courtyard, the bluestone slabs had been dampened by the morning dew, gleaming with a chilly light.

Yang Jing had arrived early. Including him, there were only two or three people in the courtyard now.

At this moment, Yang Jing was bare-chested, sweat beading across his bronze back in the morning light, sliding along the lines of his taut muscles before splashing onto the ground and spreading into small dark patches.

Time passed slowly.

More and more disciples came to train in the courtyard.

"Junior Brother Yang, your punches are getting more forceful by the day. Come, come, let's spar." Liu Maolin walked over with a smile.

Yang Jing's eyes lit up. He hurriedly wiped away his sweat with a cloth towel. "I'd ask for 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 far more freely than before.

He knew that Fourth Senior Brother had long since cultivated Inner Force. His mastery of the Mountain Collapse Fist was far beyond anything Yang Jing could compare to.

Over these past two months, they had sparred often as well. With Fourth Senior Brother's help, every sparring session had awakened Yang Jing to many crucial details of exerting force, benefiting him immensely.

The two took their positions and clasped fists in salute. Then they both sank their stances and gathered their breath, their opening forms exactly alike. After all, they had been taught by the same master.

"Junior Brother, here I come." Liu Maolin grinned. Against his dark skin, his teeth looked exceptionally white and bright.

Yang Jing focused completely as he faced him.

Liu Maolin's fists seemed neither fast nor slow, yet whenever Yang Jing's punch was about to land, he would lightly redirect it. Sometimes he would shift aside to evade, sometimes he would use deft force to dissolve Yang Jing's power. He appeared utterly at ease, but every block and every redirection perfectly accorded with the essence of the Mountain Collapse Fist.

Yang Jing became more and more engrossed, unleashing all the insights he had gained from his recent training. His fist forms grew increasingly fierce and powerful.

Yet no matter how he changed his moves, Liu Maolin dissolved them with casual ease. Occasionally, borrowing the force of their collision, he would lightly press Yang Jing's arm. That faint touch felt like a reminder, making Yang Jing instantly understand where his force had become sluggish.

Yang Jing knew full well that this was no sparring match. Fourth Senior Brother was clearly accompanying him in training, deliberately suppressing his strength to feed him moves.

That thought warmed his heart more than any instruction could have, and the force behind his punches grew stronger still.

After an intense exchange of dozens of rounds, more sweat covered Yang Jing's forehead, and his breathing had grown somewhat rapid. Yet his eyes shone brightly, and every sinew and bone in his body brimmed with exhilaration.

Seeing that his fist forms were gradually becoming smoother, Liu Maolin's eyes suddenly flashed. The previously gentle edge of his fists abruptly carried a heavy force.

This was not a vicious move meant to injure. He merely used one collision to flip his wrist lightly, sending a stream of deft force surging along Yang Jing's arm.

Yang Jing felt a force like a tide pushing toward him. He staggered back three steps before he could steady himself.

Just as he was about to attack again, he saw Liu Maolin withdraw his fists and smile. "Junior Brother, you're improving quickly enough. In a few more days, it may be time for your Breakthrough attempt."

Yang Jing straightened up and solemnly clasped his fists as he bowed. "Thank you for your guidance, Fourth Senior Brother. I've grasped several more key points."

In one corner of the courtyard stood an old locust tree, its branches and leaves swaying, concealing three figures.

Lu Yang leaned against the trunk, spinning a copper coin on his fingertip. His gaze slanted toward the two men in the field, who had withdrawn their forms and ended their sparring, while a trace of mockery hung at the corner of his lips.

Zhou Lin stood beside him with her arms folded, her willow-leaf brows slightly raised. Her gaze traveled over Yang Jing as though she were examining some curious object. At last, she gave a scornful snort and shook her head.

Zhang Kehan scratched his chin, his face openly disdainful.

"Heh, this kid is really putting on airs now." Lu Yang sneered, the copper coin stopping between his fingers. "He used to hang around with us, but now he's copying those blockheads, practicing his fists like an idiot all day. Does he really think he can train flowers out of them?"

Zhou Lin gave a cold hum, her voice slightly shrill. "Isn't that so? Fourth Senior Brother is good-natured too, actually indulging him in all this. Those few moves he made just now looked a little more presentable than before, but when it comes to the true essence of the Mountain Collapse Fist, he's still far from it."

She glanced at Yang Jing, remembering how he used to fawn over them, tag along behind them, and eagerly pay the bill whenever they drank. Looking at him now, drenched in sweat as he practiced, she found the sight downright glaring.

Zhang Kehan picked up the thread. "So what if he looks presentable? Don't forget, the Breakthrough attempt comes next. Tsk, tsk, Bright Strength. That isn't something you can achieve just by training like a fool."

He paused, and the contempt in his tone deepened. "How many people in our martial arts school have gotten stuck there? Weren't most disciples in the past stopped at this very step, only to leave in gloom at the end?"

Compared with Lu Yang and Zhou Lin, both children of wealthy families, Zhang Kehan came from the most ordinary background—and the one closest to Yang Jing's.

Back when Yang Jing followed behind them, Zhang Kehan had often ordered him about as if he were a lackey. But now that Yang Jing no longer ran with them, Zhang Kehan had become the lowest-ranking of the three. Every trivial errand had fallen to him.

So compared with Lu Yang and Zhou Lin, Zhang Kehan was the one who hated Yang Jing most and resented him most. Looking at Yang Jing's figure now, he sneered coldly.

"How difficult do you think a Breakthrough attempt is? Out of twenty or thirty people attempting it, there might not even be one who succeeds.

"What kind of root bone does Yang Jing have? A Low-grade root bone, that's all. Even among Low-grade root bones, his is considered poor. Back when he used to trail behind us, he shook more than anyone else even when holding a horse stance. With root bones that bad, he actually wants to ascend to heaven in a single step?"

Lu Yang nodded. "Right. A Breakthrough attempt is no joke. If it goes badly, it can damage your meridians. Trying again afterward will be harder than climbing the sky. If you fail three times, you'll have no chance for the rest of your life."

He flicked the copper coin in his hand and sneered. "I want to see how miserable this kid looks after his Breakthrough attempt fails. Heh, does he really think that leaving us and tagging along with Liu Maolin will let him shed his mortal shell and exchange his bones?"

"If you ask me, he'll only dare try once at most."

Zhou Lin curled her lips. "When he gets hurt and cries for his father and mother from the pain, I guarantee he'll want to come play with us again. But whether we'll take him back then will be another matter. Besides—"

Her tone shifted, carrying a hint of delight at another's misfortune. "Senior Brother Lu and I have both gone through one Breakthrough attempt. We know just how dangerous it is. With Yang Jing's ability, he probably won't even survive his first attempt. He might even become crippled outright."

The three of them watched Yang Jing mockingly.

All of them were certain that Yang Jing would fail his Breakthrough attempt, eagerly anticipating the miserable sight of that failure.

They knew Yang Jing's root bone, and they knew all too well how difficult it was to break through the martial path.

Looking at Yang Jing's figure, Zhang Kehan found him more and more of an eyesore. He silently waited, waiting to see Yang Jing fall and shatter to pieces, so he could understand that some things could not be gained through a momentary burst of hot blood.

If one's root bone was lacking, then no amount of effort was anything but futile.

On the other side, Yang Jing had not noticed Lu Yang and the other two—or rather, he simply did not care about them at all.

These days, Yang Jing buried himself in training from dawn till dusk. He had long since cast Lu Yang and the others from his mind.

At this moment, Yang Jing was looking somewhat excitedly at the System Panel data displaying his martial arts progress—