Martial Arts Progress

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

In the front courtyard, morning dew dampened the bluestone slabs, giving them a cold, clear sheen.

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

Yang Jing was bare-chested, beads of sweat glistening down his bronze back in the morning light. They slid along the firm contours of his muscles and struck the ground, spreading into small wet patches.

Time slowly passed.

More and more disciples came to practice in the courtyard.

"Junior Brother Yang, your punches are getting stronger by the day. Come on, let's spar." Liu Maolin approached with a smile.

Yang Jing's eyes lit up. He hurriedly wiped his sweat with a cloth and said, "I couldn't ask for more. Go easy on me, Senior Brother."

Over the past two months, Yang Jing had grown close to Liu Maolin and spoke much more freely than before.

He knew that Fourth Senior Brother had developed inner force long ago. His mastery of the Mountain Collapse Fist was far beyond anything Yang Jing could match.

They had sparred often over those two months. With Fourth Senior Brother's help, every bout opened his eyes to crucial subtleties in applying force, benefiting him immensely.

They took their positions and saluted each other with cupped fists, then sank their waists and steadied their breathing in unison. Their opening stances were identical; after all, they had learned from the same master.

"Here I come, Junior Brother." Liu Maolin grinned, his teeth looking especially white and bright against his dark skin.

Yang Jing focused entirely on meeting his attacks.

Liu Maolin's punches seemed neither fast nor slow, yet whenever Yang Jing's fist was about to reach him, he would gently guide it aside, turn his body out of its path, or use deft force to dissipate its power. He appeared utterly at ease, but every block and every guiding motion embodied the essence of the Mountain Collapse Fist.

Yang Jing grew increasingly absorbed in the fight, putting everything he had learned from his recent practice into his punches. His attacks became fiercer by the moment.

Yet no matter how he changed his moves, Liu Maolin neutralized them with effortless ease. Occasionally, he would even use the force of their collision to press lightly against Yang Jing's arm. That slight touch served as a reminder, instantly showing him where his application of force had become sluggish.

Yang Jing knew perfectly well that Fourth Senior Brother was hardly sparring with him. He was helping him practice, deliberately holding back and feeding him moves.

That thoughtfulness warmed his heart more than any instruction could, and he put even more vigor into his punches.

After several dozen heated exchanges, more sweat beaded on Yang Jing's forehead, and his breathing grew a little hurried. Yet his eyes shone, and a sense of exhilaration ran through every muscle and bone.

Seeing his punches flow more smoothly, Liu Maolin's eyes suddenly flashed. His previously gentle fist abruptly carried a heavy force.

It was no vicious move meant to injure. He merely used the impact of a clash and a slight turn of his wrist to send a deft surge of force along Yang Jing's arm.

Yang Jing felt a force push toward him like a rising tide. His feet involuntarily carried him back three steps before he regained his balance.

He was just about to advance again when he saw that Liu Maolin had already lowered his fists. "You're improving fast, Junior Brother," he said with a smile. "A few more days, and it may be time for your breakthrough attempt."

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

In one corner of the courtyard, the swaying branches and leaves of an old pagoda tree concealed three figures.

Lu Yang leaned against its trunk, twirling a copper coin between his fingers. He cast a sidelong glance at the two men in the courtyard as they lowered their hands and ended their spar, a trace of mockery curling his lips.

Zhou Lin stood beside him with her arms folded and her slender brows slightly raised. Her gaze swept over Yang Jing as though she were inspecting some curious object. Finally, she scoffed and shook her head.

Zhang Kehan scratched his chin, undisguised disdain on his face.

"Heh, this brat's really putting on a show now." Lu Yang scoffed, the copper coin stopping between his fingers. "He used to hang around with us. Now he's copying those hotheaded fools, stupidly practicing his punches all day. Does he really think he can make flowers bloom from his fists?"

Zhou Lin gave a soft snort, her voice a little shrill. "Exactly. Fourth Senior Brother is far too good-natured, indulging him in all this nonsense. Those moves just now did look a little more respectable than before, but when it comes to the true essence of the Mountain Collapse Fist, he's still miles away."

She glanced at Yang Jing, remembering how he used to trail after them, fawning and flattering like a lackey, paying for their drinks. Seeing him now, sweating buckets as he trained, only grated on her eyes.

Zhang Kehan chimed in, "So what if he looks respectable? Don't forget, next comes the breakthrough attempt. Tsk, tsk. Bright strength isn't something you can achieve just by practicing like an idiot."

He paused, the contempt in his voice deepening. "How many people in our school have gotten stuck here? Weren't most of the former disciples stopped at this very step, with no choice but to leave in dejection?"

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

When Yang Jing used to follow them around, Zhang Kehan had often ordered him about like a little lackey. But now that Yang Jing no longer associated with them, he had become the lowest-ranking of the three, and every petty errand fell to him.

That was why, compared with Lu Yang and Zhou Lin, Zhang Kehan resented Yang Jing the most and felt the most aggrieved by him. He looked at Yang Jing's figure and sneered:

"Do you have any idea how difficult a breakthrough attempt is? Out of twenty or thirty people who try, there might not be even one success.

"And what kind of root bone does Yang Jing have? Low-grade root bone, that's all. Even among those with low-grade root bone, he's one of the worst. Back when he trailed behind us, he shook more than anyone else just holding a horse stance. With root bone that poor, he actually thinks he can ascend to heaven in a single step?"

Lu Yang nodded. "Exactly. A breakthrough attempt is no joke. If something goes wrong, you'll damage your meridians, and trying again will be harder upon harder. Fail three times, and you'll never have another chance in this lifetime."

He flicked the copper coin in his hand and sneered. "I'd like to see how miserable this brat looks after he fails his breakthrough attempt. Heh, does he really think leaving us and hanging around with Liu Maolin will let him shed his old bones and be reborn?"

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

Zhou Lin curled her lip. "Once he's injured and crying for his father and mother from the pain, I guarantee he'll want to hang around with us again. Whether we'll take him back then is another matter. Besides-"

Her tone shifted, taking on a hint of gloating. "Senior Brother Lu and I have both made a breakthrough attempt, so we know how dangerous it is. With Yang Jing's abilities, he probably won't even survive his first attempt intact. He might end up crippled on the spot."

The three watched Yang Jing mockingly.

They were all certain he would fail his breakthrough attempt and looked forward to seeing the wretched state it left him in.

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

As Zhang Kehan watched Yang Jing, he found the sight of him increasingly irritating. He waited silently for Yang Jing to fall and shatter every bone, so he would understand that some things could not be earned with a brief surge of hot blood.

With inadequate root bone, no amount of effort would help.

Elsewhere, Yang Jing had not noticed Lu Yang and the other two-or rather, he did not care about them at all.

These days, Yang Jing buried himself in cultivation from morning to night and had long since put Lu Yang and his companions out of his mind.

At that moment, Yang Jing was looking with some excitement at the panel information displaying his martial arts progress-