Sun Clan Martial Arts School

Early morning.

Mist hung like a gauzy veil, and white frost congealed on the grass.

Before the courtyard gate, an ox cart rolled slowly onward. Yang Lao San, the peddler from Yang Family Village, sat on the plank between the two shafts, flicking the reins in his hand to drive the cart. Two bulging burlap sacks sat in the cart bed, beside them Yang Jing and Yang Lao San's son—a youth about Yang Jing's age.

"Grandfather, Grandmother, Mother, Auntie, Brother An, I'm leaving. Go back inside," Yang Jing said with a wave.

Yang An stood before the courtyard gate, watching Yang Jing on the ox cart recede into the distance. His expression was complicated, filled with both envy and emotion.

Compared to everyone else, this was the first time Yang An had seen Yang Jing off.

He had once held some hostility toward Yang Jing, believing their grandfather and grandmother favored him.

But now, for the first time, he understood what it meant for blood to run thicker than water, what it meant that even broken bones remained joined by sinew. No matter how much envy, jealousy, or hostility he had once felt, once Yang Jing showed him goodwill, a sense of closeness rose uncontrollably in his heart.

"Grandfather, Grandmother, Auntie, I'm heading home first," Yang An called, then ran off in a flash.

"That boy must be off tempering himself according to the method Jing'er laid out for him again," Madam Xue said with a smile.

Leaning against a burlap sack, Yang Jing thought about the training plan he had made for Yang An.

Though he could not teach Yang An the Mountain Collapse Fist, he had trained at the martial arts school for so long that he knew a few methods for tempering Qi and Blood. The most direct, brutal, and effective one was—lifting stones.

Starting light and working up to heavy, one tempered Qi and Blood by continuously increasing the weight of the stones lifted, laying a foundation for formally practicing martial arts later.

"Yang Lao San, heading into the city again?"

At that moment, a somewhat shrill voice rang out, followed immediately by the ox cart coming to a rapid stop.

The voice sounded familiar to Yang Jing. He quickly remembered it, then turned to look toward the front of the cart. A group of people stood blocking the road, led by none other than Feng Lei, the big thug he had met yesterday.

"Boss Feng, what brings you here for a rest today?" Yang Lao San jumped down from the cart shaft and greeted Feng Lei with a genial smile. Then he pulled a palm-sized cloth pouch from one of the sacks and tossed it to Feng Lei. Smiling, he said, "These are mung bean cakes from Crisp Heart Studio, the favorite of the Fei Family's Eldest Madam. Every month, she has me buy plenty in the city. They taste excellent, Boss Feng. Have some, and let your brothers get a little meat between their teeth too."

The Fei Family was a famed wealthy clan in Wazi Township, no less formidable than the Ning Family behind Feng Lei.

Yang Lao San was merely a small-time peddler. How could he possibly have any connection to the Fei Family's Eldest Madam? The Eldest Madam had only bought mung bean cakes from him once. He was simply borrowing the Fei Family's Eldest Madam's tiger hide to frighten Feng Lei.

Feng Lei caught the little pouch and tucked it into his clothes, grinning. "Thanks, Lao San."

With that, he gave a light wave of his hand, ordering his men to clear the road. He himself walked over to the cart bed, his gaze falling on Yang Jing. "So it's Little Jing. Going to the martial arts school to train again? If you ask me, you'd better quit. What can you possibly train into in the end? Could you block this fist of mine, as big as a sand bowl?"

As he spoke, Feng Lei raised his fist in a threatening display.

"Whether I can block Boss Feng's fist, I don't know," Yang Jing said, shaking his head. Then his eyes lit up, and he said expectantly, "But I arranged to drink at Hundred Flowers Pavilion with several fellow disciples tonight. How about you come along, Boss Feng, and see whether my senior brother, who has developed Inner Force, can block that sand-bowl-sized fist of yours?"

Feng Lei's mouth twitched slightly upon hearing that.

Though he was not a martial artist, he knew of the formidable reputation of Inner Force experts.

Not even Master Ning behind him would dare offend an Inner Force expert lightly.

The reason he dared oppress the Yang Family was because he was certain Yang Jing would never develop Inner Force. According to rumors he had heard, among every twenty or thirty people with the aptitude for martial arts, only one would become an Entering Strength expert.

"No need for that. I still prefer staying in the countryside. You all go ahead," Feng Lei said with a chuckle. The flesh on his face twitched, making him appear even more vicious. Yang Lao San's son in the cart bed shuddered in fear.

"Since Boss Feng isn't joining us into the city, we'll be on our way first. Until we meet again," Yang Lao San said with a smile, then cracked the whip and drove the ox cart onward.

"Wait."

After the ox cart had gone six or seven zhang, Feng Lei spoke again.

His eyes settled on Yang Jing, and he grinned. "Little Jing, when you have time, persuade your grandfather. Wouldn't it be nice to sell those two mu of fields in the north and turn them into silver? You need money for martial arts, and you'll surely need money to entertain your fellow disciples at gatherings too, right?"

Yang Jing pressed his lips tightly together, his face dark and cold, ignoring Feng Lei.

"In one month, I'll come visit your home again. By then, I hope everyone will be well. Hahaha, off you go," Feng Lei said with a soft laugh, waving his hand.

The ox cart traveled farther and farther away.

Before long, it had left Yang Family Village.

Sitting in the cart bed, Yang Jing frowned slightly, a sense of urgency rising within him.

Feng Lei and Master Ning behind him had now set their sights on the Yang Family's two mu of prime farmland north of the village.

Those were the Yang Family's last two mu of prime land. The family could still keep going largely because of them, and the price Master Ning offered was not even a third of the market value.

If they did not sell those two mu of prime farmland to Master Ning, the consequences.

Time slowly passed.

At noon, the ox cart finally entered Yuhe County's county seat.

Yuhe County's county seat was broadly divided into the Inner City and the Outer City, each of which was further made up of many wards.

After entering the county seat, Yang Jing parted ways with Yang Lao San and his son, heading alone for Chengping Ward.

Yang Jing arrived at Chengping Ward and followed the road past courtyard after courtyard, finally stopping before a pair of vermilion gates.

Above the gates hung a rectangular plaque bearing four large characters—Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

Yang Jing walked to the gates and pushed them open with practiced familiarity.

Inside lay a fairly spacious courtyard. Along both sides stood rows of weapon racks, holding sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, polearms, hooks, and forks.

There were also Stone Barbells resembling the barbells of Yang Jing's past life, with round stone weights fixed at both ends of a long wooden shaft. Beyond those were Stone Locks, stone blocks, wooden dummies, plum blossom posts, sandbags, and all manner of equipment for tempering Qi and Blood and honing one's skills.

At that moment, more than a dozen bare-chested men were training in the courtyard.

"Junior Brother Yang, you're back?"

A somewhat rough voice rang out.

Yang Jing turned to look. A tall, dark-skinned man was walking over.

Information about the towering man surfaced in Yang Jing's mind as well.

This man was named Liu Maolin. Born into a family of physicians, he was warm-hearted and honest. He had been apprenticed to the school master for many years and ranked fourth among the master's formal disciples.

"Greetings, Fourth Senior Brother," Yang Jing hurriedly said with cupped hands.

"Mm. You were gone a little too long this time. Don't delay your tempering of Qi and Blood. Go practice your fistwork. If there's anything you don't understand, come ask me," Liu Maolin said.

"Yes, Fourth Senior Brother," Yang Jing replied with a nod.

Liu Maolin smiled and nodded, then walked over to guide another disciple.

Yang Jing removed his shirt, bare from the waist up, and went to a pair of Stone Locks, preparing to work his Qi and Blood first as a warm-up.

Huff!

Yang Jing slowly exhaled. Looking at the two dull gray Stone Locks before him, his bronze-colored back instantly tightened. Following the method from his memories, he bent his knees and lowered himself, rough palms gripping the Stone Locks that stood half a calf high. His fingertips turned white from exertion, and veins bulged along his forearms like coiling dragons.

"Ha!"

With a low shout, he steadily lifted the Stone Locks. The muscles of his waist and abdomen abruptly contracted into hard blocks, as though every inch of his body were exerting force.

Time slowly passed.

As he continued training, sweat on Yang Jing's face dripped from his jawline. His skin glowed red with rising heat, as if an invisible current surged through his body and rushed toward every limb and bone with each burst of strength, making even his gaze increasingly clear and sharp.

"Junior Brother Yang, you're finally back?!"

Hearing someone behind him, Yang Jing set down the Stone Locks and turned around.

Two men and one woman walked over. All three were slightly pale, and compared to the others, the two men's steps were clearly somewhat unsteady.

"Senior Brother Lu, Senior Brother Zhang, Senior Sister Zhou." Yang Jing frowned slightly, then immediately put on a smile and greeted them courteously.

All three belonged to the sort of martial arts school disciples who had poor aptitude and did not train diligently. After half a year, if they still had not developed Inner Force, they would be expelled by the school master and never again permitted to travel outside under the banner of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

There were many small circles within the Sun Clan Martial Arts School. Some were high-quality circles, while others were low-grade ones.

The original owner and these three belonged to the same circle. Rather than practicing martial arts properly, they would go drinking with these fair-weather friends every few days.

What left Yang Jing most speechless was that the original owner had been poor as a church mouse, yet repeatedly puffed out his chest to play the wealthy man, voluntarily paying the bill for these senior brothers and sisters just to draw closer to them and receive some care from them in the future.

"Junior Brother Yang, your body is much sturdier than before." Senior Sister Zhou's gaze fell upon Yang Jing's firm, full muscles and smooth lines. Her eyes brightened, and she said in surprise.

Though Yang Jing had possessed muscles before, they had not been so explosive or carried such a sense of strength. He was still far behind some of the courtyard's hulking disciples, but he was indeed far stronger than before.

"Perhaps tempering my body at home these past days has had some effect," Yang Jing said with a smile.

He truly was not lying. During the half month at home, he had not been idle.

According to the abilities described by the System Panel, as long as he trained a martial art to its pinnacle, he could break through without encountering any bottlenecks.

Therefore, his most important task now was to cultivate the Mountain Collapse Fist to its pinnacle.

"Tempering yourself at home?" Senior Sister Zhou asked in surprise.

They did not even train wholeheartedly while at the martial arts school. Yang Jing actually tempered himself at home?

Senior Brother Lu, however, did not care about what Yang Jing had said. Unless one developed Inner Force, martial arts only made a person somewhat stronger than ordinary people. With Yang Jing's aptitude, not to mention his usual lax training, even if he trained with his life on the line, his chances of developing Inner Force would be exceedingly slim.

"Junior Brother Yang, there's a gathering at Drunken Immortal Pavilion tonight. Senior Sister Qi may attend, so come along." Senior Brother Lu gave the order as if habitually, as though allowing Yang Jing to attend the gathering were an immense honor.

"Senior Brother Lu, I have something to do tonight, so I won't be going. Drink plenty and have fun."

Yang Jing said this with a smile, though inwardly he was rather speechless. On the way here, he had told Feng Lei that there would be a gathering with fellow disciples that night. He had not expected it to come true. Still, judging by the original owner's habits and these people's nature, drinking at gatherings was commonplace.

Within the original owner's small circle, Senior Brother Lu Yang was the leader. This was not only because Lu Yang came from a wealthy family, but also because he was close to Senior Sister Qi.

Senior Sister Qi was named Qi Yun. She was a formal disciple of Sun Yong, the school master of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, and ranked second.

From the memories he had inherited from the original owner, Yang Jing knew that Lu Yang, Zhang Kehan, Zhou Lin, and the original owner had all fawned over Qi Yun, wanting to follow her. Yet Qi Yun did not think highly of the original owner or Zhang Kehan.

Lu Yang and Zhou Lin came from wealthy families and could bring Qi Yun some benefits, but Zhang Kehan, who came from a common family, and Yang Jing, who came from a farming household, offered Qi Yun no benefit at all.

In the memories Yang Jing had received, the original owner had repeatedly taken the initiative to settle the bill after gatherings just to make Qi Yun think more highly of him, racking up considerable debts in the process, yet failing to receive even a polite word from Qi Yun.

Many times, Yang Jing had wanted to curse out the original owner. No one thought highly of him, yet he himself refused to amount to anything!

"Hmm?" Senior Brother Lu frowned. He had not expected this country boy Yang Jing to refuse even after hearing that Senior Sister Qi might attend the gathering.