Breaking through to Hidden Strength

Yang Jing made up his mind. He would stay up all night if he had to; he needed to break through to hidden strength as soon as possible. He still had a pound of bear meat and a pound of tiger meat at home, enough to supply the nourishment he needed for the night.

He drew a deep breath and was about to move to the center of the courtyard and take his stance when a sudden knocking came from the courtyard gate: thump, thump, thump.

Night lay heavy around him, and the knocking sounded particularly clear in the silent ward.

Yang Jing paused and frowned. Who would come looking for him at this hour?

His guard went up at once. His expression turned cold as he walked to the gate, rested his fingertips on the bolt, and peered through the gap.

A sturdy man stood outside in short work clothes, but his eyes were restless. He too was peering through the gap, scanning the courtyard as though searching for something. His gaze met Yang Jing's just then, startling him.

"Excuse me, is this Instructor Li's home?" The man's voice was rough and hoarse, but Yang Jing heard the deliberately affected casualness in it.

Yang Jing's fingertips tightened slightly. "No. You've got the wrong place," he said in a low voice.

"Oh," the man replied. He lingered a moment before turning toward the mouth of the alley, his footsteps dragging. Just before rounding the corner, however, he darted a glance back at the gate.

Yang Jing checked the bolt before turning around and leaning against the gate. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his palms.

There was something wrong with that man's gaze. He had clearly been scouting the place, not knocking on the wrong door.

Most of the people living nearby were ordinary folk. Where would an "Instructor Li" have come from?

Remembering the Righteousness Gang's recent maneuvers across several wards in the West City, Yang Jing felt his suspicions harden into a chill.

Whether the man belonged to the Righteousness Gang or not, this probing was no good omen.

He walked to the center of the courtyard, where moonlight spilled across the ground in a cold sheen.

"I can't wait any longer."

Yang Jing murmured the words and clenched his fists.

Even the blood and qi within him seemed to churn under this sudden sense of danger.

He sank his hips into a horse stance, and the sweeping punches of the Mountain Collapse Fist unfolded beneath the moonlight, each move flowing more seamlessly than before.

The medicinal potency of the tiger meat continued to steam through his body, blending with his blood and qi and flowing slowly along his meridians.

He struck with the Mountain-Pushing Stance. Before his fist arrived, the air before him was already trembling under the pressure.

Just as the punch approached its end, a faint pop sounded inside him, as though an invisible membrane had burst.

In that instant, Yang Jing shuddered from head to toe, every pore seeming to open at once.

The power that had been sluggish around his shoulders and arms suddenly flowed unimpeded, spreading through his sinews and bones to his fingertips. Even his breathing became long and deep.

He could clearly feel every contraction of his muscles and every surge of his blood and qi, all entirely under his control.

When he punched, he could concentrate his power within three inches of his knuckles.

When he withdrew, he could draw that energy silently back like flowing water, leaking none of it.

The sense of completeness that had always seemed a fraction beyond his reach was finally fulfilled.

His limbs and bones felt as though they were soaking in warm water, brimming with explosive strength yet possessed of an unprecedented coordination and agility.

He looked down at his fists. Their knuckles were sharply defined, yet they seemed capable of gripping far greater weight than before.

Bright strength peak!

So this was what the bright strength peak felt like.

After months of unbroken, arduous training, he had finally reached the bright strength peak today.

Yang Jing stood in the middle of the courtyard, his chest rising and falling gently, his eyes astonishingly bright.

He did not stop. He merely adjusted his breathing and assumed his opening stance once more.

The Mountain Collapse Fist's Fist Wind remained fierce and powerful, but now carried the ease of lifting a heavy weight as though it were light, as if each punch could shatter the empty space before him.

Only one final step remained before hidden strength.

Time passed, second by second.

The night deepened, and the moonlight in the courtyard grew ever clearer, stretching Yang Jing's shadow long.

He practiced the Mountain Collapse Fist over and over, his Fist Wind whistling through the air. Yet he no longer clung to sheer ferocity; instead, a sense of "sinking" gradually emerged.

When his feet landed, there was no longer the dull thud of a heavy stamp. Like a stone sinking into still water, his power seeped silently into the ground. Even the moss in the corner of the courtyard seemed to tremble faintly, stirred by his inner force.

Yang Jing practiced the Mountain Collapse Fist for four hours without stopping, losing count of how many repetitions he had performed.

When he unleashed the Mountain Collapse Stance again, his fist was still an inch or so from the old pagoda tree in the courtyard when fine cracks abruptly appeared in its bark, and several dry leaves rustled down.

It worked!

A slight stir passed through Yang Jing's heart. His punches continued, and he felt the power within him, once rushing like a mighty river, suddenly find an undercurrent deep in the riverbed and plunge downward.

Before, when he unleashed bright strength, his muscles bulged and his blood and qi surged. Every ounce of power was displayed openly.

Now it was different. His power seemed to hide in the gaps between his sinews and bones. At rest, it remained still; once stirred, it wound through his meridians with a penetrating force.

He tried lifting his wrist lightly and pointing his fingertips toward the distant stone table.

No gust of force swept past, yet a moment later, a small scattering of stone chips silently shook loose from the table's edge.

If that struck a person, its vicious force would penetrate flesh and skin and reach straight into the organs.

"So this is hidden strength," Yang Jing murmured, pressing a hand to his chest.

With bright strength, he had been able to feel the powerful beating of his heart against his chest.

Now, however, he could "hear" the faint sound of blood flowing through his vessels, "feel" the slight breeze stirred by the footsteps of passersby outside the courtyard wall, and even "touch" the damp soil several feet underground through the soles of his shoes.

The strength of hidden strength lay not merely in having more power than bright strength, but in "control" and "penetration."

Bright strength was chopping firewood: one swing of the axe decided the result.

Hidden strength was embroidery: power could be twisted into threads and delivered precisely where it belonged, as though threading a needle and drawing it through cloth.

That light gesture just now, for instance, had looked effortless, but he had actually concentrated his internal energy at his fingertips and pushed it across empty space. Bright strength could never accomplish that.

When he punched again, his knuckles swept through the air with far less noise. Yet when the blow landed on the old pagoda tree, it no longer struck hard enough to shake the trunk. Instead, a faint shiver ran through the entire tree from its roots, as though a force had followed the trunk and silently burrowed deep into the earth.

Beneath the moonlight, Yang Jing settled his stance, closed his eyes slightly, and breathed slowly.

He knew he had crossed the mountain that trapped countless martial artists. He had not forced his way through, risking severe damage to his vitality if he failed. Instead, like a stream flowing over pebbles, he had reached the hidden strength realm naturally.

"At last, I've reached hidden strength."

Yang Jing slowly opened his eyes. An indescribable sense of exhilaration flowed through his body, as though all the foul air that had accumulated within him had finally dispersed.

Feeling the unprecedented power radiating throughout his body, he found an irrepressible excitement rising from the depths of his heart.

He tilted his head toward the bright moon hanging high overhead and could not help chuckling softly.

The oppression and vigilance of these past days vanished like smoke and scattered clouds.

The Righteousness Gang? They only had two men at the bright strength peak.

Now that he had entered hidden strength, dealing with the Righteousness Gang would take little effort. If he truly chose to act, wiping them out would be no difficult task.

"If they behave themselves, fine. But if they actually dare come after me..." A cold gleam flashed through Yang Jing's eyes.

The great stone weighing on his heart fell away with a crash, leaving his entire body feeling lighter.

He turned and drew a bucket of well water, then took a refreshing bath, washing away his sweat and fatigue.

After changing into clean clothes and lying down on his bed, he felt comfort suffuse every limb and bone.

Moonlight streamed through the window lattice and fell across the edge of the bed.

Yang Jing closed his eyes, free of his usual tension and vigilance. His mind no longer held boxing moves or the shadow of the Righteousness Gang, only the security and peace that came with breaking through to hidden strength.

"I can finally get a good night's sleep."

Early the next morning.

The Ning Family's study, Wazi Township.

Sandalwood incense curled through the air.

Ning Xuezhi, head of the Ning Family, sat upright behind a pear wood desk, leafing through an account book.

"Master! Master! Wonderful news!"

The steward Li Zhong's voice rang with uncontainable excitement, arriving before he entered the room.

A panting young servant followed him, the personal attendant of the Ning Family's second young master, Ning Wenbo.

Ning Xuezhi set down the account book and looked up. "Why all this fluster? What happened?"

Before Steward Li could speak, the servant hurried forward and bowed, saying excitedly, "Master! The second young master... the second young master broke through yesterday! He has successfully entered strength and is now a bright strength expert!"

"What?!" Ning Xuezhi sprang to his feet, and the account book in his hand fell onto the desk with a smack.

He hurried over to the servant, his voice trembling slightly. "Say that again. Wenbo... he's entered strength?"

"It's absolutely true!" the servant said hastily. "The Head of Weiyuan Martial Arts School said so himself. The young master has developed internal energy and become a genuine bright strength martial artist!"

"The second young master has done us proud. His third breakthrough attempt actually succeeded. That was a close one," Li Zhong said happily. "Master, all those years you spent sending him to the Martial Arts Hall in town truly weren't wasted."

Generally, martial arts halls had rules for those who enrolled to train: disciples who failed to enter strength within six months or a year had to leave on their own.

There were exceptions, however. The Ning Family's second young master, Ning Wenbo, had already spent two or three years at the Weiyuan Martial Arts School, partly because the Ning Family had no shortage of money, and partly because Ning Xuezhi had called in many favors.

Hearing Steward Li and the servant's words, Ning Xuezhi's wrinkles instantly smoothed out, and an indescribable exhilaration and excitement welled up in his heart.

He slapped his thigh hard. "Good! Good! My son has done us proud, truly done us proud!"

In martial training, root bone was the foundation.

Among the Ning Family's next generation, only his second son, Ning Wenbo, had tested as possessing low-grade root bone. It was hardly outstanding, but he was the Ning Family's sole hope.

Over the years, he had deliberately sent his son to the Weiyuan Martial Arts School in town, spent lavishly on instruction from renowned teachers, and supplied nourishing medicinal herbs without interruption, all in the hope that his son would enter strength. Now his wish had finally been fulfilled.

He understood better than anyone what a bright strength martial artist meant to a landed-gentry lineage.

It meant the confidence to protect their household and property, the means to establish a firm footing in the township.

When Yang Jing of Yang Family Village had become a martial artist who had entered strength, it had given him quite a fright. Now that his own son had also attained bright strength, that shadow in his heart vanished like smoke and scattered clouds.

At the end of the day, that Yang Jing was only a farmer. So what if he had entered strength? Wenbo had renowned teachers at the Weiyuan Martial Arts School guiding him, as well as an endless supply of the Ning Family's resources to hone his martial path. A farmer like that could never compare.

"Prepare some generous gifts and send them to the Head of Weiyuan Martial Arts School." Ning Xuezhi sat back down and lifted his teacup, though his hand was still trembling slightly. "Then draw twenty taels of silver from the accounts office. Buy Wenbo some fine fabric for a new outfit. And take that thirty-year-old wild ginseng from the storeroom and have someone deliver it to the school to nourish him."

"Yes!" the steward replied, leaving the study with the servant.

Quiet returned to the study. Holding his teacup, Ning Xuezhi gazed at the rising sun outside the window and let out a long breath.

With a bright strength expert of their own, the Ning Family would be able to stand even taller in Wazi Township from now on.

As for Yang Jing, he had already put him out of his mind.

Tongyi Ward, Yuhe County's county seat.

Yang Jing woke just as dawn began to break.

After a sound night's sleep, the hidden strength within him flowed freely, leaving his mind particularly refreshed.

He went to the kitchen, cut off a piece of bear meat, and put it in the pot. He brought the water to a boil and added a little salt. Soon, the aroma of meat filled the small courtyard.

As he ate the large chunks of bear meat, warm energy slid down his throat and mingled with his hidden strength, leaving him pleasantly warm and comfortable.

Once he had tidied up, he opened the gate and set out briskly for the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, his spirits exceptionally high.

Now that he had entered hidden strength, he could continue practicing the later methods in the Mountain Collapse Fist manual. He would need to ask his master, Sun Yong, for them, however, and tell him about his breakthrough at the same time.

According to the rules, his master would grant him a reward after he broke through to hidden strength, a celebratory gift marking his elevation to a core disciple.

Hidden strength martial artists were rare experts even across all of Yuhe County, and his master Sun Yong would value them highly. After all, whether these disciples established their own enterprises or joined other forces, they could generally hold important positions. All of them would become valuable connections in the future.

As Yang Jing thought about his upcoming meeting with his master, he took a slight detour through Guang'an Ward.

Upon reaching Guang'an Ward, Yang Jing deliberately slowed his pace.

In the past, he had always hurried through with his head lowered. Although he was gathering information, he had also feared attracting the Righteousness Gang's attention.

Today, however, Yang Jing was in no hurry. He looked over the men gathered in twos and threes at the street corners, his gaze calm and untroubled.

Their waists bulged beneath their clothes, and their expressions were arrogant. They were members of the Righteousness Gang.

He stood beside a tea stall at the street corner, pretending to wait for someone, and listened to several peddlers chatting at the next table, their conversation occasionally touching on the Righteousness Gang.

Not a trace of tension remained in his heart. Instead, he felt the assurance of dust finally settling. Even though he had only just broken through to hidden strength, the Righteousness Gang was no match for him.

A short while later, Yang Jing withdrew his gaze, turned, and continued toward the Martial Arts Hall.

Sunlight shone through the ward's ceremonial archway, casting his steady shadow at his feet. Hidden strength traveled silently through his body, bringing the composure of having everything under control.

After Yang Jing disappeared around the street corner, a man wearing his hat askew slowly stood up beside the tea stall.

He had been pretending to drink tea while secretly watching Yang Jing from the corner of his eye. Only after Yang Jing had gone far away did he lift his hat brim, a sharp gleam flashing through his triangular eyes.