Difficulty

Inside the carriage.

Yang Jing looked out through the carriage curtain. The night in the Outer City was much darker than in the Inner City, with only scattered lanterns swaying at alley entrances, illuminating the huddled figures of refugees.

Growing stronger was not just for his own sake. It would also let him seize more control over his fate in this troubled world.

"All right," Yang Jing agreed with a nod. "I'll give it a try when the time comes."

Liu Maolin smiled at his agreement. "That's the spirit! With your ability, you'll pass sooner or later. I'll find you some rules from previous parade ground trials. You can study them first."

The carriage stopped at the entrance to Tongyi Ward. Yang Jing bid Liu Maolin farewell and got out.

Chengping Ward and Tongyi Ward bordered the Inner City, and public order was usually decent. Tonight, however, things were somewhat different.

He had just turned into an alley leading to his home when he saw two groups gathered in an open space ahead. Holding clubs and blades, they glared fiercely at one another, looking ready to fight at any moment.

Yang Jing glanced at them and frowned slightly. He shifted to the side, unwilling to wade into these muddy waters. Just as he was about to go around them, a bearded man from one group shouted at him, "What are you looking at? Tired of living?"

The rebuke was coarse and overbearing, brimming with malice. Yang Jing halted and swept a cold gaze over him.

Just then, a slightly plump leader in a short jacket beside the man narrowed his eyes. By the light of the lantern at the alley entrance, he studied Yang Jing, finding him more familiar with every glance.

Once he made out Yang Jing's build, he suddenly remembered something. His expression changed in a flash, and a jolt of alarm shot through him. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his whole body shuddered.

Smack!

Without a word, he swung his hand back and slapped the bearded man, leaving him dazed.

"You damned fool! Are you blind?"

The plump leader cursed under his breath, then immediately put on a fawning smile. He hurried over to Yang Jing and bowed, his tone as respectful as could be. "B-Brother Yang! I'm terribly sorry. My men don't know any better and disturbed you. Please don't take it to heart!"

As he spoke, he hastily pulled a heavy purse from inside his clothes and weighed it in his hand. A flicker of pain crossed his face, but he gritted his teeth and pressed it into Yang Jing's hand. "A little token of apology, Brother Yang. Please don't turn it down."

Yang Jing squeezed the purse, estimating that it held seven or eight taels of silver.

Before he could react, the leader bowed repeatedly again. "We won't disturb your rest any longer, Brother Yang. We're leaving right now!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than he waved his hand and led his men out of the alley like dogs driven from their homes, hurrying away without looking back.

The opposing group's scar-faced leader froze at the sight. Then, as though he too had recalled some rumor, his expression changed sharply. How could he dare linger? He hastily summoned his men and slipped away without a sound.

In an instant, the alley that had been bristling with drawn swords and taut bows was deserted, leaving Yang Jing standing there alone.

He looked down at the purse in his hand, then toward the directions the two groups had disappeared in. His frown deepened. Why did these gang members seem... so afraid of him?

Had word of my breakthrough to hidden strength already spread?

What Yang Jing did not quite understand was that Yuhe County's gangs always kept a close watch on the various martial arts schools, especially a major establishment like the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, which had firmly established itself in the West City District.

Anyone capable of opening a large martial arts school inevitably had a transforming strength master backing them.

That was the pinnacle of fighting power in Yuhe County. What gang would dare provoke such a person lightly?

Though martial arts schools had many disciples, the ones who truly made gangs wary were the experts who had entered strength.

These disciples rarely involved themselves in gang disputes, but no one dared provoke them either. After all, bright strength could break wood and stone, while hidden strength could shatter metal and rock. If a fight truly broke out, an ordinary gang simply could not withstand them.

The Sun Clan Martial Arts School enjoyed considerable prestige in the West City District, and the surrounding gangs had always kept themselves thoroughly informed about its disciples.

News of Yang Jing's breakthrough to hidden strength spread through the school one day, and by the day after next, it had flowed through various channels into the ears of gangs large and small throughout the West City District.

To prevent their men from blindly offending this newly risen hidden strength expert, the gangs even had portraits of Yang Jing drawn and distributed among their middle and upper ranks, repeatedly warning them, "This man is the Sun Clan Martial Arts School's newest hidden strength expert. Under no circumstances are you to provoke him."

The affair involving the Righteousness Gang had also alarmed them.

After Zhao Meng and Qian Bao died, rumors quietly spread that the two had taken men to waylay Yang Jing before meeting their end.

Though there was no solid evidence that Yang Jing had killed Zhao Meng and Qian Bao, the mere possibility was enough to make most gangs in West City carefully weigh his significance.

Someone who could silently dispose of the Righteousness Gang's two leaders, with such strength and decisive ruthlessness, was certainly no harmless soul.

Thus, without Yang Jing even knowing, he had already become someone the gangs of the West City District could not afford to provoke.

The leader of the group just now happened to have seen Yang Jing's portrait and heard the rumors about the Righteousness Gang. Upon meeting him in person, how could he dare act rashly?

Apologizing, handing over money, and leaving immediately was the safest choice.

Though the other gang had not clearly seen Yang Jing's face, their rivals' fear let them guess most of the truth after a moment's thought. Naturally, they dared not linger either.

Yang Jing remained unaware of all these twists and turns. Weighing the purse in his hand, he headed home and soon reached the gate to his small courtyard.

He took out his key, unlocked the gate, and pushed it open. After sliding the bolt shut behind him, he entered the main room, sat at the table, and emptied the silver from the purse.

Moonlight spilled through the window lattice onto the tabletop, illuminating eight heavy little silver ingots, each weighing one tael.

"Not bad. Enough to buy eight or nine jin of fierce beast meat."

Yang Jing smiled and put the little silver ingots away.

After tidying up, he stretched his body. The fierce beast meat in his stomach was still releasing a steady stream of warm energy, flowing through his blood into every limb and bone, filling him with seemingly inexhaustible vigor.

"I might as well use this energy to practice hidden strength some more," Yang Jing murmured, walking into the open space in his courtyard.

He lowered his waist and settled into a horse stance, slowly assuming the opening posture of Mountain Collapse Fist.

As soon as his fist extended, he felt the hidden strength within him stir more actively than usual. It seemed to resonate with the warmth in his stomach, surging through his meridians.

"Hah!"

With a low shout, he unleashed Split Stone, his Fist Wind slicing through the air with a faint whistle.

This punch no longer sought sheer ferocity. Instead, he concentrated hidden strength on the surface of his fist and released it suddenly as he struck the air, as though an invisible pebble had exploded before him.

As he progressed through the moves, the energy in his stomach was rapidly drawn forth, becoming fine streams of warmth that continually nourished his circulating hidden strength.

The internal energy that normally required deliberate guidance now flowed as smoothly as a boat carried downstream. Every punch was a little more seamless than the last.

Beneath the moonlight, his figure darted and turned through the courtyard, the moves of Mountain Collapse Fist flowing without pause, sometimes like a heavy hammer striking stone, sometimes like a submerged current silently surging.

Sweat soon soaked his clothes, yet he felt no fatigue at all. Instead, a deep, exhilarating ease filled him as the energy from over two jin of fierce beast meat was efficiently converted and absorbed into his muscles, bones, and internal energy.

After an unknown length of time, he finished the final move, Return to Mountain, and exhaled a long breath of stale air. A faint white mist threaded the stream of his breath.

He looked down at his fists and could clearly feel that his hidden strength was more concentrated than it had been that evening, and responded ever more readily to his will.

At a thought from Yang Jing, the System Panel appeared before his eyes-

[Mountain Collapse Fist: Great achievement (11/1000)]

[Surging Wave Leg: Minor achievement (7/500)]

After his breakthrough to hidden strength, Mountain Collapse Fist's values had changed as well, its upper limit rising from five hundred to one thousand.

There's still some way to go before I can break through to transforming strength.

Yang Jing thought this to himself.

For now, however, he was brimming with drive.

Many martial artists lost their spirit and slackened after mustering every ounce of effort to break through to hidden strength.

The reason was that reaching hidden strength already seemed extraordinarily difficult. Breaking through to transforming strength after that offered only a faint hope, if any hope at all.

Under those circumstances, they naturally lost their former passion for training and instead used their strength and status as hidden strength experts to seek wealth and benefits.

Yang Jing then practiced Surging Wave Leg for another hour, took a cold bath, and returned to his room to sleep.

The next day.

Dawn had barely broken, and the old pagoda tree in the courtyard was still steeped in morning mist when Yang Jing rose.

He left the aged ginseng untouched, planning to visit the Liu Family Medical Hall first to select complementary medicinal herbs. Using the ginseng alone would squander a precious gift of nature; a proper combination would bring out its greatest effect.

In the kitchen pot, the bear meat left over from the previous night had been cooked until tender, its fragrance drifting through the gap in the door.

Yang Jing filled a large basin and swept it clean like a gale scattering clouds. Only after nearly another two jin of fierce beast meat entered his stomach did he feel full.

After breaking through to hidden strength, his appetite had increased again. A single meal now required nearly two jin of fierce beast meat, sometimes even more. Fortunately, he had a little more money to spare now.

Once everything was in order, Yang Jing locked the courtyard gate and headed toward the Sun Clan Martial Arts School in Chengping Ward.

He had just rounded two street corners when he saw several men in short jackets, blades tucked at their waists, gathered beneath a wall. They looked like members of some gang.

They had been laughing and chatting, but their laughter stopped abruptly when they noticed Yang Jing approaching. Tension instantly appeared on their faces, their gazes darting away as they all shrank back behind the wall.

Two of the men had been squatting on the ground, smoking pipes. As he drew near, they sprang up without a word and ducked into the depths of the alley, moving as swiftly as mice that had spotted a cat.

Yang Jing rubbed his nose, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

It seemed word of his breakthrough to hidden strength really had spread.

But did they need to be this afraid? I'm not a man-eating tiger.

Recalling the group's reaction in the alley last night and comparing it with the scene before him, Yang Jing roughly understood. This was the weight carried by a hidden strength expert, enough to fill low-ranking gang members with dread at the mere sight of him. Moreover, his breakthrough also represented his standing within the school. He had the school behind him, and a transforming strength master beyond that.

He shook his head and stopped dwelling on it.

Being feared was better than being scorned.

At least he would face far less unnecessary trouble when walking the streets from now on.

Sunlight gradually dispelled the morning mist and fell across the bluestone road. Yang Jing's shadow stretched long as he walked steadily toward the school.

Besides practicing his fist technique today, he also needed to find time to visit the Liu Family Medical Hall and settle the matter of the herbs.

Walking the Martial Path required more than practicing punches. He also had to learn to use the resources around him.

After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Yang Jing arrived at the school.

He stripped off his shirt, tossed it onto a wooden bench beside the wall, and began practicing.

Time passed slowly. Yang Jing was gradually making the circulation of hidden strength through Mountain Collapse Fist more seamless when someone called him from behind. Turning, he saw Liu Maolin approaching with a small booklet bound in blue cloth.

"Senior Brother," Yang Jing greeted him.

"Here. Information on the parade ground trial." Liu Maolin handed him the booklet. "It records the trials from the last five years, along with assessments of the people who passed. Read it carefully."

"All right. Thank you, Senior Brother." Yang Jing nodded and accepted the booklet, then walked over to a stone bench by the wall and sat down to read in the morning light.

Having just finished practicing, he could use this time to rest and organize his thoughts.

As his fingertips passed over the paper, he silently assessed his own strength.

Though he had only just entered hidden strength, his foundation was far more solid than that of an ordinary martial artist who had recently broken through.

Perhaps this had something to do with the System Panel. With no bottlenecks, he had still taken every step steadily and securely.

When he sparred with Liu Maolin after his last breakthrough, his newly developed hidden strength alone had allowed him to withstand an attack delivered with ninety percent of Liu Maolin's power. At that point, Surging Wave Leg had not yet reached bright strength, and he had not even deliberately used his footwork or speed.

Had he gone all out then, he was confident that Surging Wave Leg's swiftness would have let him fight Liu Maolin to a draw, or even seize a slight initiative.

Now that Surging Wave Leg had reached bright strength, his footwork and speed had improved greatly, and his inner force was more concentrated. If they fought again, he was confident he could win.

Without realizing it, he, a newcomer to hidden strength, had already surpassed a veteran hidden strength disciple of the school.

His second martial art, Surging Wave Leg, deserved much of the credit. Combining fists and legs had raised his practical fighting ability considerably.

Yet as he read the booklet's records, Yang Jing frowned slightly.

It stated plainly that the parade ground trial tested actual combat.

In previous years, most who passed had been martial artists at peak hidden strength, and usually those with exceptional combat ability.

In some years, even several peak hidden strength martial artists had been eliminated, showing just how demanding it was.

"Of everyone in the school, only Senior Brother Xu Hong has reached peak hidden strength," Yang Jing murmured.

He had seen Xu Hong's strength: steady and seasoned. Even after breaking through to hidden strength, Xu Hong had continued devoting all his energy to martial training and reached its peak early. Yet the bottleneck before transforming strength stood like a heavenly chasm, firmly barring his way.

But as far as Yang Jing knew, Senior Brother Xu Hong had entered the parade ground trial each of the past few years and failed every time.

For this year's trial, Xu Hong seemed to have specially practiced a leg technique as well. However, it had yet to reach bright strength, so the improvement to his ability was limited. Whether he could earn a place among this year's successful candidates remained uncertain.

Yang Jing continued reading, and the parade ground trial's pass rate alarmed him even more.

Nearly two hundred people applied each year, but at most six passed. Sometimes there were only three.

This meant that the vast majority of martial artists entering the parade ground trial would see their halberds broken and buried in the sand-including hidden strength martial artists.

"This is fucking brutal." Yang Jing closed the booklet, inwardly marveling as his fingertips tapped lightly against its cover.

His current strength was still far from enough to pass.

He had to improve as much as possible over these twenty-odd days. At the very least, he needed to raise his hidden strength further and refine the coordination between his fists and legs before he could have any real confidence.

He raised his eyes toward the center of the front courtyard. The sunlight was bright, and several disciples were training diligently.

Yang Jing stood and tucked the booklet inside his clothes. The pressure was immense, but it also roused the tenacity in his bones.

The harder it is, the more reason to brave it.

He put the booklet into his old cloth bag, then rose and headed into the training ground to continue practicing. With the ordeal of the parade ground trial ahead, he had no time to slack off.