Night ambush

News of Yang Jing's breakthrough to Hidden Strength spread as though it had grown wings, reaching every corner of the Sun Clan Martial Arts School in less than an hour.

In the Front Courtyard, disciples stopped their training one after another and looked toward Yang Jing, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

"Is that true? Yang Jing... became a Hidden Strength martial artist?"

"No way. Doesn't Senior Brother Yang have a low-grade root bone? How could he break through to Hidden Strength?"

"No wonder Senior Brother Yang always trained his fists so desperately. All that hard work earned him real skill!"

"Hidden Strength... so many people spend their whole lives without ever touching that realm, and he actually-"

Voices rose all around him. Before long, many disciples gathered with warm smiles, talking over one another to offer their congratulations.

"Congratulations, Senior Brother Yang! You'll have to give us junior brothers a few pointers from now on!"

"Senior Brother Yang, you were hiding your talents! We must have been blind before!"

Those who had once kept Yang Jing at arm's length now crowded around him, their words dripping with flattery.

After all, the gap between Hidden Strength and Bright Strength was like a heavenly chasm. A practitioner of the former would rank among the experts in any faction. Bright Strength experts were uncommon too, but that was still a level many disciples could hope to reach.

Everyone understood the weight of that distinction.

Yang Jing nodded slightly and gave a few brief replies without lingering over the pleasantries.

He knew all this praise came largely because of the words "Hidden Strength." Rather than lose himself in it, he would be better off familiarizing himself with its use and devoting more energy to his own Martial Path.

"Junior brother, itching for a fight now that you've broken through?" Liu Maolin approached, rolling his wrists, excitement shining in his eyes. "Come on, let's exchange a few moves. Let me see how much stronger you've become!"

Having just broken through, Yang Jing was eager to test the depths of Hidden Strength. He smiled and replied, "All right. Please go easy on me, senior brother."

They stepped into the middle of the training ground, and the surrounding disciples immediately cleared a space.

Liu Maolin wasted no time. He threw the first punch, its Fist Wind gentle but concealing force within—the hallmark of Hidden Strength.

Back when Yang Jing was still at Bright Strength, Liu Maolin had needed only thirty percent of his power to dismantle his attacks with ease, even finding room to offer him pointers.

Now, however, Yang Jing answered with a punch of his own, circulating the Hidden Strength method of the Mountain Collapse Fist. His fist seemed slow, yet carried a dense, weighty force that pierced the air.

Their fists met. Liu Maolin felt a solid surge of Hidden Strength travel through his finger bones, leaving his arm faintly numb. Inwardly startled, he realized that this power was far steadier than he had expected!

He dared not be careless. He immediately increased his power, his punches turning fierce as Hidden Strength flowed through his meridians, his moves seasoned and ruthless.

Yang Jing showed no fear. The Mountain Collapse Fist grew increasingly fluid in his hands, his Hidden Strength gathering and releasing at will.

Though he had only just entered Hidden Strength, his years of sparring with Liu Maolin had already given him some understanding of its nature. Combined with the adaptability forged through several life-and-death battles, it allowed him to withstand Liu Maolin's attacks at eighty percent power.

"Heh, now this is interesting!" Unable to break through despite his sustained assault, Liu Maolin's fighting spirit burned brighter. He drove the Hidden Strength within him without restraint, his Fist Wind howling as he brought out ninety percent of his power.

That much strength would have thrown an ordinary newly advanced Hidden Strength martial artist into a frantic scramble.

Yang Jing's expression sharpened. He pushed the Mountain Collapse Fist's Entwining principle to its limit, his punching force winding upward like vines, dissipating the incoming force while striking back.

Even so, he gradually fell behind, forced to retreat again and again as fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Thanks for the bout!" Liu Maolin stopped while he was ahead, withdrawing his fists and stepping back, his face full of surprise and admiration. "You've only just entered Hidden Strength, yet you can withstand ninety percent of my power. That's absurd! When I first broke through, holding out against fifty or sixty percent of a veteran's strength in the same realm was already pretty good."

Yang Jing wiped away his sweat, inwardly marveling as well.

The world of Hidden Strength truly was profound. The control and variations contained in Liu Maolin's ninety percent power were far beyond anything at bright strength peak.

But he also knew that his performance owed much to his solid foundations, and even more to the combat experience he had earned between life and death.

The surrounding disciples were already dumbstruck. Though that exchange lacked the thunderous spectacle and flesh-pounding blows of a Bright Strength contest, every move revealed profound intricacy. It gave them a genuine sense of how frightening Hidden Strength martial artists were, and deepened their awe of Yang Jing's newly acquired strength.

Just after the sparring ended, while the two were wiping off their sweat, a man in a blue-cloth short jacket hurried through the Martial Arts Hall's main gates. He went straight to Liu Maolin and whispered a few words.

Liu Maolin's expression changed slightly. He gave Yang Jing an apologetic smile. "Junior brother, something urgent has come up at the Medical Hall. I need to hurry back."

He patted Yang Jing's shoulder. "We'll have to move that celebration dinner to tomorrow night. I'll definitely make it up to you then."

"Business comes first. Don't worry about it. This gives me a chance to study the further stages of the Mountain Collapse Fist Master taught me today," Yang Jing said with a smile. "I'll come tomorrow night instead."

Liu Maolin nodded, reminded him a few times to wait for word, then hurried away with the man.

Meanwhile, he was also thinking that once he returned, he would tell his father all about Yang Jing's breakthrough. They should raise his monthly allowance and meat supply, preferably add a few more benefits, and settle the arrangements before announcing them at tomorrow night's celebration, so Yang Jing would understand the Liu Family's sincerity.

No sooner had Liu Maolin left than Xu Hong and Zhao Wenzheng approached, wearing warm smiles quite unlike their usual faint reserve.

"Junior Brother Yang, those punches were truly exquisite," Xu Hong began, genuine admiration in his voice. "You've already grasped something of Hidden Strength's 'penetrating' principle."

Zhao Wenzheng agreed. "Indeed. We never noticed before, but you hid your abilities well, junior brother. From now on, whether it's school affairs or insights into cultivation, we should exchange ideas more often."

Yang Jing knew why their attitude had changed, but he did not mind. He cupped his hands. "You flatter me, senior brothers. I've only just entered Hidden Strength. There's still much I need to learn from you."

"No need to be so polite." Xu Hong smiled and waved a hand. "We're fellow disciples. Helping one another is only natural. By the way, are you free tonight? My treat-how about a few drinks at the Jufou Restaurant in South City?"

In the past, Xu Hong would never have invited him even to a roadside wine stall, let alone the Jufou Restaurant.

Yang Jing understood perfectly, but still declined politely. "Thank you for your kindness, senior brother. But I'd like to spend tonight studying the Mountain Collapse Fist's Hidden Strength training method some more. I'll trouble you for those drinks another day."

Xu Hong did not press him. He smiled. "Fair enough. Cultivation comes first. Another day, then. I'll leave you to it."

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries with him before turning to leave.

Watching their retreating backs, Yang Jing let out a soft breath.

Being a Hidden Strength martial artist really did change everything.

But he gave it no further thought. After a short rest, he headed to a corner of the Front Courtyard and immersed himself in practicing the Mountain Collapse Fist once more.

Time passed slowly.

After a day of grueling practice, darkness settled, slowly draping itself over the world like a cloth soaked in ink.

Only when the last lantern in the Front Courtyard was lit did Yang Jing lower his fists. Heat steamed from his body, and the Hidden Strength circulating through his meridians had grown increasingly smooth.

He nodded to the attendant putting away the equipment, then turned and left the Martial Arts Hall.

"Senior Brother Yang's drive is something else," the attendant murmured, watching him go. "Training from morning till night-even a body forged from iron couldn't take that. No wonder he reached Hidden Strength..."

On his way home, the streets had yet to fall completely quiet. A scattering of vendors were still packing up their stalls.

Yang Jing walked steadily, his Hidden Strength held within. He appeared no different from an ordinary passerby, yet he could clearly catch every movement around him, from a drunkard's muttering at a street corner to the faint sound of a cat's paws crossing roof tiles.

As he entered a narrow alley connecting two main streets, the light abruptly dimmed. The high walls on either side blocked the moonlight completely.

The instant Yang Jing reached the middle of the alley, two dark figures sprang from the wall tops like venomous snakes lying in wait. With a vicious rush of wind, they lunged straight for his back. They were Zhao Meng, leader of the Righteousness Gang, and Qian Bao, its deputy leader, who had been waiting in ambush.

"Boy, surrender!"

Each held a short knife, their blades gleaming coldly in the darkness as they targeted his openings with impeccable coordination.

In the past, even if Yang Jing could barely cope with an ambush by two martial artists at bright strength peak, he would certainly have been left in a wretched state.

Now, however, the Hidden Strength within him stirred. Rather than retreat, he advanced, a seemingly stumbling step taking him neatly out of the crossing paths of the two knives.

At the same time, his right fist moved second but arrived first. Without stirring the slightest breeze, it struck Qian Bao's knife-wielding wrist with pinpoint accuracy.

Crack!

The sharp snap of breaking bone sounded especially piercing in the alley.

Qian Bao felt a yielding yet unstoppable force bore into his wrist bones. His knife flew from his hand, and before the agony could spread through his body, Yang Jing's fist followed like a shadow, landing on his chest.

Three consecutive punches struck his chest, hammering it inward into a deep crater.

There was no earthshaking crash, yet Qian Bao seemed caught in the grip of an immense invisible force. His body abruptly curled like a shrimp, his eyes bulging round as blood poured from his mouth. With disbelief still plastered across his face, he slowly collapsed to the ground and died.

It was too fast. From the moment the two sprang out of the darkness to ambush him until Yang Jing killed Qian Bao, only two or three breaths had passed.

Even at death, Qian Bao had never imagined he would die just like that, in this place, beneath Yang Jing's three seemingly weightless punches.

"Qian!" Shocked and furious, Zhao Meng changed his slash into a thrust aimed straight at Yang Jing's throat.

An experienced fighter, he had already sensed something wrong in that brief instant. Yang Jing's footwork and use of force were far beyond the scope of Bright Strength!

Yang Jing turned aside from the blade, opened his left hand, and pressed his palm against the spine of Zhao Meng's knife.

Hidden Strength flowed from his palm, spreading along the blade like water.

Zhao Meng felt his arm go numb. His grip abruptly dissolved, and the knife nearly slipped from his hand.

His mind reeled as an absurd yet unmistakably clear thought exploded within it. This... is this Hidden Strength?!

How was that possible!

Before making their move, they had investigated Yang Jing thoroughly. Everything said he was only at Bright Strength. How could he possess Hidden Strength?!

Horrified, Zhao Meng lost all will to fight. He leaped backward, trying to put distance between them. "You... you broke through to Hidden Strength?!"

Yang Jing gave him no chance to flee. He drove power through his feet, sending Hidden Strength into the ground, and pursued like a phantom. The Mountain Collapse Fist's Entwining principle activated. His fist seemed slow, yet sealed off every avenue of retreat.

Zhao Meng punched to block. As their fists met, he felt a spiraling force bore through his arm into his body. His organs seemed to churn, his blood and qi surging violently.

"No! Impossible! How could you be at Hidden Strength!" Zhao Meng screamed, all color draining from his face.

He finally understood why Qian Bao had died so quickly. Bright Strength and Hidden Strength seemed only a single step apart, yet the difference was that between clouds and mud.

That seemingly gentle force could penetrate flesh and skin to ravage the internal organs directly. It was many times more frightening than even the fiercest Bright Strength!

He turned and ran, wanting nothing more than to escape the alley.

But Yang Jing's fist was already upon him. With the Surging Wave Leg supporting him, his speed and footwork had improved day by day.

This time, he held none of his Hidden Strength back. His fist brushed across Zhao Meng's back, and Zhao Meng's forward rush abruptly halted. The clothes on his back remained intact, but beneath his skin came a violent, twisting agony, as though countless fine needles were piercing his organs.

"Urgh..." Zhao Meng staggered a few steps and fell face-first to the ground. After two twitches, he lay silent.

Quiet returned to the alley, with only the smell of blood spreading through the damp air.

Yang Jing stood beside the two corpses and slowly exhaled a stale breath.

His first battle after attaining Hidden Strength had been even easier than he expected.

He glanced calmly at the two bodies on the ground. From the moment they chose to ambush him, there had been no turning back.

The smell of blood in the alley grew stronger, but Yang Jing did not leave immediately.

He walked over to the two bodies and, by the faint light filtering in from outside the alley, examined their faces. Sure enough, they were Zhao Meng, leader of the Righteousness Gang, and Qian Bao, its deputy leader.

The terror of their final moments still lingered on their faces, yet neither had worn even a simple mask. Clearly, they had been certain they could capture him easily and had never considered concealing their identities.

It really was them, Yang Jing thought, understanding dawning.

He had long expected the Righteousness Gang to target him over Xu Tai's affair. That sense of danger had been one of the driving forces behind his training through the previous night and forcing a breakthrough attempt.

Now it seemed that breaking through to Hidden Strength early had truly been a wise move.

He crouched and began searching the bodies.

There was a bulge at Zhao Meng's waist. Feeling around, he pulled out a thick money pouch. He emptied it and counted the silver: a full seventy-four taels.

Qian Bao's money pouch was somewhat thinner, but still contained forty-three taels.

A hundred and seventeen taels altogether. Though not a great fortune, it would cover several years of expenses for an ordinary household in the county seat. Presumably, this was the silver the two carried on them.

While searching Zhao Meng's chest, Yang Jing's fingertips touched something hard. His expression shifted, and he drew out a small porcelain bottle the size of his palm.

Opening it, he found a dark red medicinal pill the size of a longan, giving off a faint medicinal fragrance. He had no idea what it was used for.

Yang Jing tucked the porcelain bottle into his robe. This was no place to linger; he could find an opportunity to identify it later.

After securing the valuables, Yang Jing stood, his gaze turning cold.

Rather than leave immediately, he circulated his Hidden Strength and brought both fists down repeatedly on the two corpses.

Hidden Strength penetrated their bodies, and the muffled sounds of shattering bones echoed softly through the alley. Moments later, the two corpses were unrecognizable, their limbs twisted at grotesque angles. No one could make out their original appearance, much less tell that they had died beneath the Mountain Collapse Fist.

Displaced people were now gathering everywhere inside and outside the county seat. Public order was chaotic, and murders were frequent. The authorities were already exhausted trying to cope and were even less inclined to investigate killings born of gang feuds.

Zhao Meng and Qian Bao had made plenty of enemies. Nothing could be more plausible than an enemy hunting them down and killing them.

Even if someone discovered the bodies, they would only assume it was a martial-world vendetta. It would be all but impossible to trace it back to him.

Once he finished, Yang Jing gave the depths of the alley one last glance. Only after confirming that he had left no traces did he turn and walk briskly out.

He merged into the stream of people beneath the night, his steps light. The silver at his waist and the porcelain bottle inside his robe weighed heavily, yet neither reassured him nearly as much as the Hidden Strength flowing within his body.

With the Righteousness Gang's two chief leaders eliminated, the days ahead should be quieter.

P.S. Thanks to [Book Friend] for the generous tip of 100 Qidian coins.