Unbelievable

By the time he returned to the martial arts school, the sun had already passed its zenith.

Yang Jing took off his shirt and began to temper his qi and blood.

As he tempered his qi and blood, the system panel appeared before his eyes—

Code
[Mountain Collapse Fist: Minor Success (1/500)]

With his breakthrough to the Bright Strength realm, the Mountain Collapse Fist had also advanced from the beginner stage to the minor success stage.

Yang Jing first practiced a set of basic punches in the courtyard, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

Then he walked over to the stone lock, took a deep breath, bent down, and steadily lifted the fifty-jin stone lock.

The bear meat he'd eaten at noon was truly nourishing; a warm energy lingered in his Dantian, making lifting the stone lock noticeably easier than before, and even his qi and blood circulation felt exceptionally smooth.

Yang Jing then switched to the stone barbell, pressing it onto his shoulders for squats. As he rose and lowered, he could feel the bear meat's energy spreading through his bones and muscles, the soreness dissolving into a gentle warmth, leaving his whole body relaxed and comfortable.

After finishing these exercises, the warm-up was complete, and Yang Jing began practicing the Mountain Collapse Fist again.

"Sink your breath, don't let it float in your chest."

A steady, rich voice came from behind. Sun Yong had emerged from the inner courtyard at some point, standing behind Yang Jing, his gaze fixed on the boy's movements. "In the minor success stage of the Mountain Collapse Fist, the key is 'strength issues from the spine, the fist follows the breath.' When you threw that punch just now, your waist and hips didn't twist into position, so the power scattered."

"Greetings, Master." Yang Jing quickly bowed.

He was now an official disciple, so by the rules, he had to address Sun Yong as "Master."

Sun Yong nodded. Dressed in black, his presence heavy and steady, he clasped his hands behind his back and gave a slight nod. "Now that you've entered Bright Strength, you must formally begin the second stage of the Mountain Collapse Fist—the minor success stage."

Yang Jing listened attentively.

Sun Yong continued, "This stage emphasizes 'strength penetrating the muscle texture.' You need to integrate Bright Strength into your moves, so that every punch has an edge and every strike leaves a mark."

As Yang Jing absorbed Sun Yong's explanation, his mind raced, pondering every detail.

Sun Yong stepped forward, took his wrist, and guided him back into the proper stance. "Watch closely. When you punch, first sink your shoulders and drop your elbows, let the breath enter your Dantian, and let the internal energy push up along your spine. When it reaches your shoulder, explode it out—yes, like that!"

He demonstrated personally, breaking down each movement clearly.

From the key points of power generation to the path of qi and blood flow, his explanation was meticulous.

Yang Jing focused intently, committing every key point to memory.

The other disciples who hadn't yet entered strength watched with envy. This was the gap between an official disciple and a nominal one.

Once you became an official disciple, you were truly a master's apprentice.

Sun Yong taught them far more seriously and thoroughly than he did the nominal disciples.

Yang Jing followed the instructions, feeling as if the energy from the bear meat inside him had been ignited, flowing with each punch. Every strike carried a dull sound of breaking air.

In the past, practicing to this point always made his tendons feel tight, but today it was unusually smooth. The wind from his punches swept through the air, faintly carrying the intent of "collapsing a mountain."

The more he practiced, the more absorbed he became. The intense exercise rapidly broke down the bear meat's nutrients, converting them into energy that merged into his body, as if every muscle fiber was cheering.

Watching Yang Jing's focused practice, even Sun Yong gave a slight nod, a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

After finishing the set, Yang Jing's breath was a little ragged, but he felt no fatigue—only a pleasant ease throughout his body.

Sun Yong stepped forward, pinched his shoulders, back, waist, and abdomen. The bones and tendons he touched were indeed unremarkable; his natural talent could only be considered inferior.

He withdrew his hand, letting out a quiet sigh inwardly.

'This kid's smooth breakthrough to Bright Strength was probably mostly luck. With his talent like this, there's almost no hope of pushing further to Hidden Strength.'

"Mm, your stance is steadier," Sun Yong said, his tone cooling slightly. "But in the end, foundation is talent. Your talent isn't good, so you'll need to train even harder from now on. Don't slack off."

The weight in his words had faded compared to before.

Yang Jing smiled and replied, "Disciple remembers. Thank you for the guidance, Master!"

Sun Yong nodded, offered a few words of encouragement, then turned and walked toward Lin Yue in the distance, beginning to instruct the martial arts school's prodigy.

In his eyes, the one who would truly carry the Sun Clan Martial Arts School in the future was a talent like Lin Yue, with superior natural aptitude.

After noticing that Lin Yue seemed interested in his daughter Sun Ningxiang, he'd even considered playing matchmaker. If Lin Yue became his son-in-law, even after he passed away, with Lin Yue around, he wouldn't have to worry about the school or his daughter.

Dusk settled heavily.

In a tavern south of the city, Lu Yang had just lifted the curtain and entered when he saw Zhou Lin and Zhang Kehan sitting in a corner, their faces uglier than the other. The food and wine on the table had barely been touched.

"What's with you two?" Lu Yang pulled out a chair and sat down, pouring himself a cup of wine. "I just got back from collecting goods in the Prefectural City, haven't even gone home yet, and I came straight to find you. And you're giving me faces like that?"

Last month, his second breakthrough attempt had failed, damaging his vitality and permanently cutting off any hope of reaching Bright Strength. Dejected, he'd left the Sun Clan Martial Arts School and started working in the fur trade with his family elders.

Zhou Lin didn't answer. He glared at the plate of sauced beef on the table, his voice heavy. "That Yang kid made it."

"Made what?" Lu Yang's hand holding the wine cup paused, not catching on.

"Broke through! Bright Strength!" Zhang Kehan gritted his teeth, his voice laced with an indescribable frustration. "This morning, right in the courtyard. The school master said it himself. I even asked Senior Sister Qi Yun. That kid really entered strength!"

Lu Yang let out a "pfft" of laughter, setting his cup down on the table. "You two messing with me? Yang Jing? With his talent? Worse than all three of us? He made Bright Strength? Cut it out. That's a pretty funny joke, heh—"

As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of Zhou Lin and Zhang Kehan's faces.

Neither of them had a trace of a smile. The shock and resentment in their eyes couldn't be faked.

The smile on Lu Yang's face slowly froze. His heart lurched, as if something had slammed into it.

"You're serious?" His voice trembled slightly.

Zhou Lin nodded, grabbed her wine cup, and took a fierce gulp. The liquor trickled down the corner of her mouth. "Absolutely true. We were standing right there watching. He punched a wooden stake and left a dent in it. The hall master said it himself—he's entered Bright Strength."

A punch that left a dent in a wooden stake—if that landed on a person, it'd probably knock them out in one hit. Strike a vital spot, and it could even kill an ordinary person instantly.

"Impossible," Lu Yang muttered to himself, his brow furrowed into a knot. His face turned an ashen green, looking worse than if he'd swallowed a fly.

He remembered clearly that when Yang Jing used to follow him around, Yang Jing couldn't even memorize the most basic boxing routines, and his bone structure had been rated "lowest tier" by Senior Sister Qi Yun.

His own bone structure was far superior to Yang Jing's. If he hadn't made it, how the hell could that guy?

An indescribable, nameless feeling clogged his chest—jealousy, resentment, and a hint of inexplicable panic.

He recalled his own disgraceful departure from the martial hall, the disappointed sighs of his parents, and then thought of Yang Jing now being the hall master's formal disciple, able to walk around Yuhe County with the hall master's disciple title. The contrast stabbed at him like needles, making it impossible to sit still.

"How could he..." Lu Yang repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. His fingers clenched the wine cup so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The candlelight in the small tavern flickered, casting shadows over their three silent, grim faces.