Resolve

Time galloped like a horse urged on by the whip; the years drifted away like fallen flowers on flowing water.

In the blink of an eye, another three days had passed.

Dawn had barely broken when a faint aroma of meat wafted from Yang Jing's room in Datong Ward.

The horse meat in the clay pot had stewed until tender. Together with the hot broth, he ate well over a pound of it. That familiar current of warmth slowly spread through his belly, soothing his muscles and bones and lending a little warmth to the chilly morning.

After clearing away his bowl and chopsticks, he tucked his last two hundred copper coins into his sleeve and headed out toward the Sun Clan Martial Arts School in Chengping Ward.

Morning dew had dampened the bluestone paving, making it slightly tacky underfoot, but his thoughts were already churning.

Even if he spent sparingly, the money in his sleeve would not last another five days.

He knew full well that every coin he needed for martial training came from food his entire family had denied themselves, tightening their belts.

His whole family's hopes rested on his shoulders, a burden heavier than the weights he carried while practicing his fists.

Yang Jing had long since withdrawn and spent all the silver he had obtained from Feng Lei. Not a penny remained.

If this continued, his family would struggle to support his training any longer. He would not even be able to afford horse meat, and his progress would slow considerably.

His root bone was poor to begin with, and his training already progressed more slowly than that of the other disciples. If he slowed down any further...

I need to find a way to earn money. My future training expenses and the Martial Arts Hall's regular fees will all require it.

Yang Jing unconsciously clenched his fists until his fingertips turned white.

At that thought, his heart grew a little heavier.

Fortunately, he had almost pushed the initiation stage of Mountain Collapse Fist to its limit. Only a paper-thin windowpane stood between him and developing inner force, breaking through to the bright strength realm.

Perhaps... I can break through to the bright strength realm today, Yang Jing thought, excitement stirring within him.

Once he broke through to the bright strength realm, he would become a Formal Disciple of the Martial Arts Hall's master, Sun Yong. His apprenticeship fees would drop sharply, saving him a considerable sum.

Moreover, someone who reached the bright strength realm could be considered an "expert" in Yuhe County.

Many prominent families, shops, and escort agencies would offer an olive branch, inviting the Martial Arts Hall's disciples to hold positions with them-something akin to part-time work.

The pay a bright strength expert received for such a position was substantial. At the very least, Yang Jing would no longer need to ask his family, already struggling with hunger and cold, for money.

He quickened his pace, following Vermilion Bird Street to Chengping Ward, near the Inner City.

The outline of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School gradually grew clearer, its bronze eaves bells chiming softly in the breeze.

"It all comes down to today!"

Yang Jing murmured to himself, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

Arriving at the entrance of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, Yang Jing reached out and pushed. The gate swung open with a creak.

Yang Jing stepped inside.

The front courtyard was silent. A thin layer of frost still clung to the bluestone paving, and only the bronze bells beneath the eaves occasionally chimed in the morning breeze.

Without pausing, Yang Jing removed his shirt, revealing his firm, muscular upper body. He then walked into the training yard, raised both arms level, and first settled into a horse stance before beginning to lift the Stone Locks to Temper Qi and Blood.

His breathing slowed from rapid to measured, each inhalation and exhalation carrying a faint whisper of air. The energy stored in his body from eating horse meat turned into waves of warmth that rose within him.

Half an hour later, Yang Jing had finished warming up. He sank his waist, gathered his breath, and assumed the opening stance of Mountain Collapse Fist.

Fist Wind cut through the frosty air, sending dull echoes through the empty courtyard. Every movement was steady as bedrock, carrying a ruthless edge of staking everything on one throw.

The sun slowly climbed, its golden light spilling over the walls, and only then did the Martial Arts Hall's disciples begin arriving.

Footsteps approached in twos and threes. Most belonged to young faces, with male disciples making up the majority and only a handful of female disciples. Altogether, there were a little over thirty.

Seeing Yang Jing already practicing in the yard, many felt deep admiration. Several new disciples even respectfully called out, "Senior Brother Yang."

Hearing those new disciples call to him, Yang Jing felt a faint stirring in his heart.

When he had first entered the Martial Arts Hall, he had been a greenhorn trailing after others and calling them "Senior Brother." Now, without realizing it, he had become the "Senior Brother" his juniors addressed.

Yet only he knew how much hardship and bitter endurance lay hidden in that title.

The disciples dispersed to practice their fists, and the front courtyard gradually grew lively.

Yang Jing glanced at the crowd. Of the disciples who had joined the Martial Arts Hall around the same time he had, only two or three remained, heads lowered as they trained doggedly in the corners. The rest had long since vanished.

The rule laid down by the school's master, Sun Yong, was ironclad and impartial-anyone who failed to break through to bright strength within six months of joining had to pack up and leave.

He was now in his sixth month at the school. In theory, he had only half a month left. In many people's eyes, he had yet to even make a single breakthrough attempt, so his chances of reaching bright strength were zero. This would be his final half month at the Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

He thought of the fellow disciples who had left.

Some had families that truly could no longer afford to support them. When their parents arrived with bundles on their backs to take them home, the guilt in their eyes outweighed their reluctance to part.

Others had failed a breakthrough attempt-or even their second or third-and damaged their meridians. Watching their limbs grow more sluggish by the day, they knew entering strength was beyond their reach. In the end, they could only pack their belongings and leave with reddened eyes.

More of those who left the Martial Arts Hall were said to have returned to their rural homes to farm, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Some went to the docks, hauling cargo and scraping out a living amid wind and waves. Others became guards for wealthy households, living at the mercy of their masters' moods. Merely imagining such days made Yang Jing's chest feel tight.

He abruptly drew back his fist, then drove his knuckles into the wooden post with a dull thud.

He drew a deep breath and assumed his stance once more, his Fist Wind carrying the resolve of a man who had smashed his cooking pots and sunk his boats, leaving no path of retreat.

He would never willingly walk such a road!

Fortunately, he was different from the others.

At that moment, a line of text appeared before Yang Jing's eyes, visible to him alone-

[Mountain Collapse Fist Initiation (199/200)]