Entering Strength

Yang Jing's body jolted, as if a membrane had suddenly shattered.

The Mountain Collapse Fist techniques he had long memorized now took on subtle changes.

When he threw a punch, it was no longer driven by brute force alone.

The accumulated blood and energy in his Dantian began to flow naturally through his meridians, converging into his fist.

When he planted his foot, a sticky force seemed to cling to the ground, anchoring each step with a steady foundation.

He abruptly stopped his fist, and the sounds around him sharpened several times over.

The peddlers' cries from outside the courtyard, the shouts of disciples training in the distant martial hall, even the faint rustle of insects crawling along the wall—all reached his ears with clarity.

The scene before him seemed washed clean; the veins in the bluestone slabs and the cracks in the wooden stakes were all startlingly distinct.

But what shook him most was the new Inner Force surging within his body.

It wasn't as scorching as blood and energy, yet it carried a condensed ferocity as it slowly coursed through his meridians.

Wherever it passed, his limbs and bones brimmed with an unprecedented fullness.

Yang Jing could clearly sense that if he threw a punch now, this force would erupt from his fist—an ordinary strong man struck by it would surely suffer broken bones and torn sinews.

"Is this Bright Strength?"

Yang Jing murmured, his eyes blazing with disbelief and ecstasy.

He finally understood and confirmed it.

The System Panel hadn't lied; his cultivation truly had no bottlenecks.

What others endured through hardship, even risking their meridians in a Breakthrough attempt, was for him merely a natural, effortless advancement.

He tried another punch. Before his fist even reached the stake, the Bright Strength had already shot out.

With a "bang," a shallow fist imprint was left in the wood.

Yang Jing stood still, staring at his own fist, the excitement in his chest nearly overflowing.

Half a year of grueling effort, countless drops of sweat, and his family's hopes—all had finally borne fruit!

He hadn't just kept his place in the martial hall; he had stepped into the Bright Strength realm that so many disciples dreamed of!

Yang Jing's breakthrough was like a pebble dropped into a still lake, instantly shattering the rhythm of the courtyard.

Not far away, Sun Yong, the hall master who was instructing Lin Yue in his forms, twitched his brow and locked his gaze precisely onto the scene.

With decades of martial practice, he was all too familiar with the aura of Bright Strength.

The force that had just burst from Yang Jing's fist, though still raw, was unmistakably Bright Strength!

A flicker of surprise crossed Sun Yong's eyes, and his hand, stroking his beard, paused briefly.

This Yang Jing. He remembered clearly—his root bone talent was very ordinary, mediocre even among Low-grade root bones. In the half year since joining the hall, despite his diligence, he had always lingered at the entry level.

By Sun Yong's estimate, touching the edge of a Breakthrough attempt within half a year would already be commendable, and the hope of breaking through to Bright Strength was slim at best.

Yet here, this kid had silently succeeded?

And on his first try?

"Some luck, I suppose," Sun Yong mused to himself.

In martial cultivation, a Breakthrough attempt relied on three parts talent, six parts hard work, and the remaining one part on fortune and chance.

Perhaps Yang Jing had stumbled upon that sliver of luck and smoothly entered Bright Strength.

After the initial surprise, a smile crept onto Sun Yong's face.

Regardless, having one more Bright Strength disciple in the hall was always a good thing.

Bright Strength disciples were the backbone of any martial hall, propping up its reputation—beneficial to both the hall and the individual.

"Yang Jing," Sun Yong called out, his voice not loud but clear enough to reach every corner of the courtyard.

Yang Jing looked up at the hall master's gaze, quickly withdrew his stance, and bowed respectfully. "Disciple is here."

Sun Yong nodded, sizing him up for a moment before speaking slowly. "Since you've entered Bright Strength, you are now considered my formal disciple. From now on, all your treatment will be upgraded to that of a formal disciple."

This announcement hit the crowd like a boulder, instantly stirring up a storm.

"What?"

"Yang Jing broke through?"

"He entered Bright Strength?"

"How is that possible! With his root bone..."

As soon as Sun Yong finished, a tide of murmurs surged through the courtyard. The thirty-plus disciples all turned to stare at Yang Jing, disbelief written on their faces.

If these words hadn't come from the hall master himself, they would never have believed it.

A young disciple who had just joined the hall gaped, his wooden sword clattering to the ground. "Senior Brother Yang really made it? I heard Bright Strength is incredibly hard. Lots of senior brothers have better root bones than him and still haven't succeeded!"

Someone nearby swallowed hard, his voice dripping with envy. "Who knows what kind of dumb luck he stumbled into! With his talent, touching the threshold in half a year would be impressive—and he succeeded on the first try? He must have hit some kind of fluke during his Breakthrough attempt!"

"He actually reached Entering Strength."

Behind the crowd, a disciple who had joined the martial arts school around the same time as Yang Jing reddened around the eyes. He had buried himself in training for over five months, and by his own assessment, his bone structure was still superior to Yang Jing's. Last month, he had attempted a Breakthrough, only to fail, damaging his vitality, and he was still recuperating.

Zhou Lin and Zhang Kehan stood by the courtyard wall, their faces frozen stiff, as if they had been slapped hard.

Zhou Lin clenched her fists, her nails nearly digging into her flesh.

They had been waiting to watch Yang Jing make a fool of himself and get kicked out in half a month, but in the blink of an eye, this guy had actually broken through to Bright Strength? Become someone they might never even touch in their entire lives?

"This is impossible," Zhang Kehan muttered, his eyes going vacant. "He's clearly, clearly worse than us."

Even Qi Yun, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines, was stunned for a moment, then furrowed her brow even tighter.

Her gaze at Yang Jing now held not just disdain, but a layer of complexity.

That guy she had always seen as an idiot had actually stumbled onto a lucky break?

A few disciples whom Yang Jing had once guided showed genuine envy on their faces.

A burly man with a thick beard rubbed his hands together and said in a low voice, "I've only been at the school for two months, a short time, but honestly, we've all seen the hard work he's put in over these past two months. Maybe it's not all luck."

But those words were quickly drowned out by an even fiercer tide of doubt.

In most people's eyes, if Yang Jing had succeeded, it had to be because he had stumbled onto incredible fortune. Otherwise, with his bone structure, how could he surpass so many disciples with better foundations and leap straight to the top?

Yang Jing stood in the center of the crowd, listening to the murmurs of shock and jealousy around him, but his face showed no ripple.

He knew that whether it was doubt or envy, none of it could change the fact that he had already entered Bright Strength.

He simply straightened his spine and bowed again to Sun Yong. "Disciple obeys."

Sun Yong gave a faint "Mm." "This afternoon, I will personally guide you in the initial stage of Mountain Collapse Fist cultivation."

Once a disciple of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School broke through to Bright Strength, they became the formal disciple of the school master, Sun Yong, and would naturally receive more of his guidance.

Yang Jing had just broken through and was about to begin the initial stage of Mountain Collapse Fist cultivation—exactly when he needed guidance.

"Yes, Master!" Yang Jing's expression was solemn.

Before breaking through to Bright Strength, he would have called him School Master, but now, he could truly regard himself as Sun Yong's disciple.