A village celebrity

Night fell completely.

In Chengping Ward, the lanterns outside the Sun Clan Martial Arts School lit up one after another.

When Yang Jing finished his punches, his knuckles were still red, and heat steamed from his body.

He gave himself a quick wipe, picked up his old cloth bag, and hurried toward Datong Ward.

Now that he had bought a new courtyard house, Yang Jing decided to move that very night.

Fortunately, he had very few belongings. He carried his bedding and clothes on a shoulder pole in one trip, then shouldered his clay pot and the sack hiding his valuables in another, his steps light and swift.

The new courtyard in Tongyi Ward was only half an hour from Datong Ward. Yang Jing made two round trips and finished moving in less than two hours.

After giving up his old room and putting everything in order, he felt even lighter at heart.

In Tongyi Ward, Yang Jing tidied his room and tucked the sack of valuables beneath the bed as before. There was little else to clean. The courtyard had been occupied and well maintained until a month ago, and only a little dust had settled during that time.

Once everything was settled, Yang Jing began stewing meat.

The kitchen in his new courtyard was small, but it was much roomier than the corner of his old room where he had cooked meat in a clay pot.

Looking around his new home, Yang Jing was thoroughly satisfied. Everything about it seemed wonderful.

After a quick cleanup of the kitchen, Yang Jing lit the fire, cut the remaining tiger meat into chunks, tossed them into the clay pot, added water and sliced ginger, and covered it to simmer.

Before long, the rich aroma of meat spread through the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the courtyard's greenery. Compared with cooking hunched over in his cramped old room, it held an extra measure of warmth and ease.

When the meat was tender, he served himself a large bowl, sat on a little stool in the kitchen, and ate in hearty mouthfuls.

Broth seeped between the fibers of the tiger meat. A warm current slipped down his throat and slowly spread through his belly, bringing comfort to every limb and bone.

Yang Jing ate with relish, leaving not even a drop of broth. Whether it was his imagination or the quality of his new home's firewood, the tiger meat seemed more than twice as delicious as before.

After washing his bowl and chopsticks, Yang Jing stepped out into the courtyard.

Moonlight spilled across the bluestone paving. The old pagoda tree's shadow lay still, and the murmur of the stream drifted in from beyond the wall.

He stretched, his joints giving a series of soft pops. Looking at everything around him—the spacious courtyard, the side rooms, the kitchen, the Main Hall, the flowerpots, and the old pagoda tree—he felt both grounded and openhearted.

From now on, this would be his own little world.

He would no longer have to huddle in a cramped room to cook meat and practice martial arts.

"Full of tiger meat, brimming with a dragon's vigor and a tiger's strength-time for more punches!"

Yang Jing could hardly wait to practice in this spacious courtyard that belonged to him alone.

The courtyard was not large, but to Yang Jing, it was spacious enough. As long as it gave him room to practice, that was all he needed.

The moonlight fell squarely on the open space in the courtyard.

Yang Jing planted his feet, drew a deep breath, and slowly calmed his excited spirits before settling steadily into the opening stance of the Mountain Collapse Fist.

The warmth from the tiger meat coursed slowly through his meridians. As his punches rose and fell, that warmth seemed to ignite, surging through his fists, shoulders, and waist. Every punch whistled through the air, carrying even more raw force than usual.

By the end of the routine, sweat beaded at Yang Jing's temples, yet his whole body felt refreshed, as though he had endless strength.

After briefly regulating his breathing, he changed stances, preparing to practice the Surging Wave Leg, which he had only just begun studying.

The training methods for the Surging Wave Leg flowed slowly through his mind.

With more than half a year of martial training behind him, Yang Jing already had some ideas about how to practice the Surging Wave Leg, even without anyone to guide him.

At first, his legs rose stiffly, his ankles lacked flexibility, and the force of his kicks scattered instead of gathering.

But the solid foundation laid by the Mountain Collapse Fist now showed its worth. Coordination between his waist and legs, along with smooth, continuous exertion, had long since been etched into his body's memory.

In just over two hours, Yang Jing began to grasp a few tricks.

His knee lifts, hip turns, and leg swings grew increasingly fluid, and the whistle stirred by his toes grew louder. Though still far from polished, his movements already carried a faint trace of the Surging Tide's swiftness.

Beneath the moonlight, Yang Jing cast a shifting shadow on the courtyard wall. His leg techniques gradually grew familiar, each kick steadier and faster than the last.

The more Yang Jing practiced, the more absorbed he became. He felt the warm current within him harmonizing with the leg technique, lending him greater agility than before.

Only late into the night did Yang Jing stop, feeling utterly invigorated.

Previously, he had always practiced his punches at night inside his cramped room. How could that compare with the freedom he felt now?

While resting, Yang Jing willed it.

The next instant, the System Panel appeared before his eyes out of thin air-

[Mountain Collapse Fist: minor achievement (393/500)]

[Surging Wave Leg: initiation (2/200)]

Now that Yang Jing had formally begun practicing the Surging Wave Leg, its training progress had appeared on the System Panel as well.

Looking at the two martial arts on the System Panel, Yang Jing smiled.

With a plentiful supply of fierce beast meat, my training has sped up considerably. At this rate, I should have a chance of breaking through to hidden strength within a month.

Yang Jing thought to himself.

No one would have believed it if he said it aloud.

The bottleneck between bright strength and hidden strength was immense.

In the decades since the Sun Clan Martial Arts School was founded, it had produced plenty of bright strength disciples, but exceedingly few hidden strength disciples.

Registered disciples now entered the Martial Arts Hall in wave after wave, then left in wave after wave, dejected. Some might be fortunate enough to break through to bright strength, but hidden strength had trapped far too many. Including Lin Yue, only five hidden strength disciples remained at the Martial Arts Hall.

That single bottleneck had defeated countless people, trapping them for the rest of their lives and bringing their journey along the martial path to an end.

Yet Yang Jing was confident, because he had no bottleneck.

At first light the next morning, Yang Jing rose. By the faint glow filtering through the window paper, he carefully wrapped ten taels of gold and fifty taels in silver ingots in three layers of oilcloth, then tucked them into an inconspicuous cloth bundle and tied it securely to his back.

He tucked another ten-tael silver ingot inside his robe. It felt cold to the touch, yet gave him peace of mind.

Yang Jing did not go to the Martial Arts Hall that day. He planned to make a trip home.

Keeping so much wealth in one place left him uneasy.

He spent most of almost every day practicing at the Martial Arts Hall. With more displaced people entering the city, things were becoming unsettled. What if a thief slipped into his courtyard and stole from him? Yang Jing had to take precautions.

Heading west, he left through the city gate and followed the main road for twenty or thirty li to reach Wazi Township, then continued onward.

Yang Jing knew the road to Yang Family Village like the back of his hand. The earthy scent of soil mingled with the fragrance of wheat as it greeted him. From afar, he spotted the old pagoda tree at the village entrance, with several villagers gathered beneath it, chatting.

"Little Jing's back!"

An elderly fellow villager squatting beneath the tree smoking a pipe spotted Yang Jing first. He tapped his pipe against the sole of his shoe, stood, and called in a booming voice, "I hear you've learned some real skills from practicing martial arts? Even the Ning Family sent you gifts?"

The villagers gathered around, talking over one another, their faces full of genuine warmth.

"Yang Jing, you've really made something of yourself!"

"I'd only ever heard how powerful people could become through martial arts. Turns out it's true! Even rich landowners like the Ning Family sent your family a plow ox."

"Brother Yang Jing, do you get to eat meat every day in the city?"

"Your mother was talking about you a while ago. She said you love pagoda blossom cakes. I still have some blossoms saved at home. I'll bring them over later so she can steam some for you."

Yang Jing answered them with a smile.

Since breaking through to bright strength, he had needed to take an honorary appointment and had gained a source of income, so his trips home had become much less frequent. This time, the villagers had caught him on his return.

Before his breakthrough to bright strength, his returns to the village had never caused such a stir, nor had so many villagers crowded around to talk to him.

Yang Jing knew, however, that most villagers had no idea what bright strength was, or what it meant to be an entering strength martial artist. But they knew the Ning Family, one of Wazi Township's foremost wealthy gentry families.

Many had heard that the Ning Family wanted to buy the two mu of Grade-A Farmland north of Yang Family Village. They had felt sorry for Yang Jing's family. The Ning Family was notoriously stingy and would surely drive the price down brutally, perhaps even force the sale.

But afterward, the Ning Family not only stopped mentioning buying Yang Jing's family land, they even sent their steward over with a plow ox. The contrast was enormous.

Only later did word spread that the Ning Family's drastic change in attitude was actually because of Yang Shouzhuo's gold-devouring beast of a grandson.

Quite a few people in Yang Family Village had originally thought little of Yang Jing's martial training. Some had even watched it as a joke.

After all, to farmers who had lived off the land for generations, martial arts were far removed from their lives. Training also cost far more than they could afford.

Take Yang Shouzhuo's family, for instance. They had once owned dozens of mu of farmland and ranked among the village's better-off households. But after funding Yang Jing's training, their lives had become miserable, worsening by the day. They were even on the verge of selling all the land their ancestors had accumulated over generations.

Some villagers could not bear to watch and had urged Yang Shouzhuo to stop letting Yang Jing practice martial arts.

Who would have thought that, in the blink of an eye, Yang Jing would truly gain skill, and even the Ning Family's attitude would turn a full one hundred and eighty degrees?

Now these villagers surrounded Yang Jing, striking up conversations and deliberately seeking closeness. Some were sincere, some envious or jealous, and some merely curious, though most were kindhearted.

After exchanging a few words with his fellow villagers, Yang Jing quickened his pace and arrived at his family's gate.

He stepped forward, pushed open the courtyard gate, and went inside.

In the courtyard, his mother was bent over feeding the chickens, his grandmother sat on a stone stool sorting vegetables, and his grandfather was repairing farm tools.

Hearing him, all three turned. When they saw Yang Jing standing at the entrance, the wrinkles on their faces instantly softened.

"Jing'er, you're back?"

Liu Cuiling wiped her hands on her apron and pulled Yang Jing close, looking him up and down. "You're taller, but thinner too. Haven't you been eating well? We have money at home. I'll get you some in a moment. Make sure you eat your fill when you go back. How can you have the strength to train if you don't eat enough?"

Old Master Yang set down his hammer, coughed twice, and walked over with a smile. The more he looked at his precious grandson, the more delighted he became. He nodded. "That's right. Take some money when you leave. Focus on your training, and don't be afraid to spend."

Their words warmed Yang Jing's heart. He smiled and said, "Grandpa, Mother, I haven't been going hungry. I hold an honorary appointment at the Liu Medical Hall in the city now. Every day, I eat fierce beast meat that costs five or six hundred copper coins a catty. I may look thin, but I'm all muscle."

In truth, Yang Jing was not thin at all. On the contrary, he was exceptionally sturdy. But with plentiful nourishing food and frenzied daily training, he had recently shot up in height, making him look somewhat leaner than before.

After a few words, Yang Jing turned to shut the courtyard gate, then took the ten taels of silver from inside his robe and pressed it into his mother's hand. "Mother, here are ten taels of silver. Keep it and see if there's anything the house needs. If nothing else, go to the market every few days and buy a couple of catties of meat."

Liu Cuiling was startled by the ten-tael silver ingot her son handed her. She had never seen so much money before and hurriedly pushed it back. "Life away from home isn't easy for you. Keep it yourself. Your grandparents and I are here. We don't lack anything."

"Mother, earning money is easy for me now. Ten taels is a small amount." Yang Jing firmly pressed the ingot back into her palm. "Just keep it. Buy Grandpa and Grandma a couple of new outfits, and some good rice too. Stop eating that coarse rice."

For now, Yang Jing did not mention that he had already bought a courtyard house in the city. Telling his family would probably give them quite a shock.

Old Master Yang studied Yang Jing closely again. The boy now stood tall and straight in well-fitting clothes, radiating composure from within. His features had shed their youthful immaturity, gaining a measure of handsome confidence and ease, while every movement carried an uncommon steadiness.

Looking at his outstanding grandson and recalling how even the wealthy Ning Family had come bearing gifts of their own accord, the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth slowly unfolded into a gratified smile.

He nodded slowly. "Since it's the boy's heartfelt gift, you should accept it, Second Son's wife."

He paused briefly, then added, "This child has grown up."

After the old master spoke, Yang Jing's mother hesitated before finally putting away the silver ingot. Her eyes reddened as she turned toward the kitchen, saying she would heat water for Yang Jing, but behind the kitchen door, she wiped away her tears.

While his mother was in the kitchen and his grandparents were talking in the courtyard, Yang Jing entered the Main Hall.

He sprang lightly upward, touched a toe to the edge of the heated brick bed, and leaped like a nimble swallow, landing securely on a roof beam.

His movements were as light as a falling leaf, making not the slightest sound.

He tucked the cloth bundle containing the gold and silver ingots into a gap above the beam and covered it with a roof tile. Then he bent forward and leaped down, landing silently on the floor. Brushing the dust from his hands, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Once he had finished, Yang Jing had barely stepped out of the Main Hall when the courtyard gate opened and two figures entered.

His aunt, Madam Xue, walked in with gentle steps, a bamboo basket hanging from her arm, followed by his older cousin, Yang An.

"Jing'er is quite the celebrity in our village now. You've only just returned, and the whole village is buzzing." Madam Xue's voice was soft and gentle, her eyes smiling as she set the basket on the stone table in the corner of the courtyard. "This chicken's fully grown. We've been waiting for you to come home and eat it. I just killed it, and I'll stew it for you in a little while."

The two households lived very close together. As soon as Madam Xue heard someone say Yang Jing had returned, she slaughtered the chicken and came over.

Yang Jing glanced down. A large rooster lay tied with hemp cord in the bamboo basket, plump and heavy, clearly a fine bird specially saved for him.

"Brother Jing."

After his mother left, Yang An looked at Yang Jing and nodded in greeting.

He was reserved by nature, his lips lightly pressed together and his face mostly expressionless. Only his eyes showed the warmth he felt at seeing Yang Jing.

"Brother An." Yang Jing smiled and nodded as well.