Yang An came to town

Yang Jing watched the man emerge and hand the pearl hairpin to an accomplice. They exchanged glances, then immediately scattered in three directions, moving so quickly that they vanished into the alleys in the blink of an eye. Their movements were remarkably slick.

"Heh." A cold smile curled Yang Jing's lips. He almost had to laugh.

That was a novel trick: pretend to be someone's husband, snatch her belongings in broad daylight, and run. It spared them the trouble of drawing blades and let them escape before the bystanders could react. Truly "simple and effective."

The woman, however, would probably have to swallow this bitter loss in silence. Not only had she been publicly "disciplined," but she had also lost her jewelry. Even if she told people about it, they might not believe it had been a robbery.

Yang Jing shook his head, with no intention of interfering.

The world was growing more chaotic by the day. Gangs infested the city, and their tricks emerged in an endless stream.

He withdrew his gaze and hurried toward the martial arts school without lingering.

Chengping Ward, Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

Yang Jing entered the school's gates and reached the front courtyard, where he stripped off his short jacket, revealing his sturdy arms.

Morning sunlight fell across his taut muscles. Sweat had yet to emerge, but the circulation of internal energy had already tinted his skin a faint red.

He approached a wooden post. The instant he settled into the opening stance of Mountain Collapse Fist, Fist Wind smashed forward with a whistle through the air.

Time slipped by, and more and more disciples arrived to practice in the front courtyard.

"Sink your elbow. Make the release of power sharper."

Sun Yong's voice came from the moon gate.

Dressed in a dark blue training uniform, he strolled around the courtyard, offering pointers to the disciples.

Today, however, Sun Yong focused mainly on Xu Hong, Zhao Wenzheng, Qi Yun, Lin Yue, and a few others.

Yang Jing counted the days. Today should be another day for sparring with other martial arts schools.

He practiced his punches while making small adjustments to his moves. From the corner of his eye, he saw his master, Sun Yong, instructing Xu Hong and the others one by one, explaining everything from the finer points of their fist techniques to the channeling of internal energy in meticulous detail.

Half an hour later, Liu Maolin strode through the school's gates, dressed in fitted martial attire.

Seeing that Liu Maolin had arrived, Sun Yong clapped his hands. "Stay sharp, everyone! Today we're sparring with the disciples of the Iron Fist Martial Arts School. Less talk, more action. Make sure you hold our ground!"

The registered disciples of the Sparring Team answered in unison, each rubbing his fists and palms in eager anticipation.

The Parade Ground Trial was approaching, and further improvement would be difficult in such a short time. For these disciples, practical sparring was the best preparation, allowing them to uncover weaknesses and fill gaps through genuine clashes.

Just before leaving, Sun Yong's gaze swept lightly over Yang Jing.

Sunlight shone from behind Yang Jing, gilding his sharply defined profile. The dull thuds of his fists striking the wooden post were steady and powerful.

The lad's hidden strength was already solid. If he came along to spar, his combat experience would certainly improve considerably.

But Sun Yong had already sent Sun Ningxiang to ask Yang Jing. The boy was foolish, obtuse, and stubborn, knowing only how to bury himself in fist practice. He had no intention of joining the school's Sparring Team.

Sun Yong shook his head inwardly.

So be it. If the lad doesn't want to, let it go. The Sparring Team is nearly full anyway. Any more, and I might struggle to look after them all.

He actually had other considerations in mind.

No disciple from the Sun Clan Martial Arts School had made the Parade Ground Trial Ranking in seven years. Although Yang Jing had attained hidden strength, his breakthrough was recent and his foundations still shallow. In a place full of crouching tigers and hidden dragons like the Parade Ground Trial, he would essentially be there only to make up the numbers.

At least this year, Yang Jing had no hope of entering the Parade Ground Trial Ranking. Given a few more years of honing his skills, he might have a chance to secure something of an official status and bring renown to the Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

If there was anyone to pin their hopes on in this year's Parade Ground Trial, it had to be Lin Yue.

Although Lin Yue had yet to reach peak hidden strength, his solid Mountain Collapse Fist and natural combat talent gave him an extremely high win rate against hidden strength experts from other schools. His practical experience was far beyond that of Yang Jing, a newcomer to hidden strength who rarely sparred with anyone.

Whether they could break their seven-year deadlock in this Parade Ground Trial, Sun Yong was staking his hopes on Lin Yue.

In Sun Yong's eyes, even his eldest disciple, Xu Hong, who had already reached peak hidden strength, had less chance of making the Parade Ground Trial Ranking than Lin Yue.

"Let's go."

Sun Yong stopped dwelling on it. With a wave of his hand, he turned and led the school's Sparring Team outside.

In the front courtyard, Yang Jing remained absorbed in his fist practice, his Fist Wind as steady as ever.

He did not know what his master, Sun Yong, was thinking, but he had sensed that meaningful look. Still, Yang Jing did not waver and continued concentrating on his punches.

His path was different from everyone else's.

For other martial artists, practical sparring might help them achieve sudden enlightenment, break through bottlenecks, or improve their strength. Yang Jing had no need for anything so complicated. He only had to cultivate step by step, train a martial art to its limit, and then break through directly without any bottleneck.

Even his master, Sun Yong, knew nothing of this, and Yang Jing would certainly never tell a secret this important to anyone else.

As for real combat, he had no shortage of it now. He already had more than a few lives on his hands.

Besides, he still held a position at the Liu Family Medical Hall. Although the medical hall looked after him by assigning him as few tasks as possible, he still went out on missions two or three times a month.

In times like these, he often encountered bandits outside. Words alone could not drive such villains away. It took fists to repel them and protect the medicinal herbs.

If they truly compared practical combat experience, few people in the entire school could match him.

Rather than waste time traveling back and forth and sparring with disciples from other schools one after another, he preferred to spend that time improving himself.

How could he link the ferocity of Mountain Collapse Fist with the agility of Surging Wave Leg more smoothly? Was there a way to wield hidden strength with greater freedom, releasing and withdrawing it at will? These were the things he needed to ponder now.

As for the Parade Ground Trial, Senior Brother Liu Maolin had told him to use this year merely to familiarize himself with it. After a few more years of honing his skills and improving his strength, he would have a chance of passing. But he did not want to wait "a few more years."

Since he had an opportunity this year, he would try to seize it. How many stretches of several years did a person have to squander?

Amid the flurry of fist shadows, Yang Jing's gaze grew sharper.

If others don't believe in me, I'll prove myself.

After Sun Yong led the Sparring Team away, the intense training atmosphere in the front courtyard quietly changed-or, more precisely, split into two camps.

The bright strength disciples eligible for the Parade Ground Trial dared not slack off, putting even more effort into every punch and kick. Although those who entered the Parade Ground Trial Ranking each year were all hidden strength experts, they had ambitions of their own. They wanted to distinguish themselves in the trial and astonish everyone with a single brilliant performance. Even if they could not make the ranking, they would strive to catch the eyes of those influential figures.

Meanwhile, four or five ordinary registered disciples who had yet to reach the threshold of bright strength gathered in a corner to rest and chat, their voices not particularly quiet.

One of them said, "I reckon Senior Brother Lin Yue is sure to pass this Parade Ground Trial and get his name on the ranking. Master really pours his heart and soul into teaching him."

A disciple beside him nodded. "I heard Senior Brother Lin Yue sparred with an expert from the Weiyuan Martial Arts School a few days ago and defeated that hidden strength expert within twenty moves. With strength like that, he's probably no worse than our senior brother."

"Exactly," another disciple with average root bone chimed in. His gaze happened to pass over Yang Jing, who was still absorbed in his punches, and a hint of regret entered his voice. "Senior Brother Yang Jing may have hidden strength too, but his root bone is inferior, after all. Ultimately, he falls a little short. Look at him, practicing alone there every day. Last time Senior Sister Ningxiang invited him to join the Sparring Team, he didn't even go. He probably knows himself that he can only be part of the backdrop at this year's Parade Ground Trial."

"You can't put it that way," a disciple said with a frown. "Senior Brother Yang's foundations are very solid. The school master even said he has a chance of attaining transforming strength. He's just... just too quiet. Compared with Senior Brother Lin Yue, he lacks a little drive and intuition, perhaps."

These registered disciples did not realize that hidden strength experts could faintly hear their conversation even when they lowered their voices.

Snatches of their discussion drifted into Yang Jing's ears, but he acted as though he had heard nothing. His fists struck the wooden post again and again, their force even and their rhythm utterly undisturbed.

Wood shavings fluttered down, gathering in a thin layer at his feet.

To him, other people's judgments were like wind past his ears, gone as soon as they blew by.

Neither Lin Yue's glory nor anyone else's idle chatter could disrupt his rhythm.

He knew his own path.

Hidden strength was not his destination.

Transforming strength would not be his destination either.

The Parade Ground Trial was a touchstone, much less a destination.

All he needed to do now was throw each punch well and make every thread of internal energy flow more smoothly.

He would continue until he reached peak hidden strength, then break through to transforming strength, and finally climb higher still.

When the sun reached overhead, Yang Jing stopped practicing.

His master had yet to return with the Sparring Team.

Yang Jing wiped away his sweat with a cloth, put on his short jacket, picked up his old cloth bag, and headed out through the school's gates.

Judging by the time, Brother An and the others should be here soon, Yang Jing thought as he looked at the sky. I'll buy some meat and vegetables at the West Market first. Brother An's arrival is perfectly timed. From now on, I can leave these little chores to him. It'll get him out and let him engage more with the outside world, while saving me plenty of time.

Leaving the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, Yang Jing headed straight for the West Market.

He could hear the market's clamor from two streets away.

Knowing the way well, Yang Jing found the hunter's stall he regularly patronized. The tiger meat hanging there gleamed a fresh, meaty red, from a beast newly hunted.

"Young hero Yang, how much would you like?" The hunter was familiar with Yang Jing by now and greeted him with a smile.

"Old Qin, you've got another tiger hanging here every few days. Haven't you killed off all the tigers in Yuhe County yet?" Yang Jing teased with a smile.

Hunter Qin grinned and waved a hand. "I don't have the skill to kill a tiger alone. Those by the mountains live off the mountains; those by the water live off the water. Our village sits at the foot of Tiger Mountain, and everyone there is a hunter. We mostly make our living hunting tigers. I'm only selling the tiger meat on behalf of our village. I still have to divide the proceeds when I get back."

Yang Jing smiled.

Both Jizhou and Caozhou were plains regions, with few high mountains or hills. Yuhe County was famous for the Fish River and had many rivers and lakes within its borders, but only one mountain: the Tiger Mountain Hunter Qin had mentioned.

"Old Qin, give me five jin," Yang Jing said. "Oh, and my older cousin may often come here to buy meat for me from now on. Please look after him."

"You're one of our best customers. Of course I will. Tell him to mention your name, and I won't overcharge him. Haha." Hunter Qin smiled as he cut the tiger meat for Yang Jing.

Yang Jing accepted the meat, exchanged a few more words, and left carrying the lotus-leaf parcel.

After leaving the hunter's stall, Yang Jing turned into a nearby restaurant and bought four side dishes, two meat and two vegetable: braised pork knuckle, stir-fried kidney, and two kinds of seasonal greens. He carried them away wrapped in oiled paper.

Back at his courtyard in Tongyi Ward, Yang Jing plunged straight into the kitchen.

He first set rice to steam in the large pot, then put an earthenware pot on the stove. He cut the tiger meat into chunks and blanched it, added ginger slices to remove the gamey smell, and tossed in a few pieces of medicinal herbs from the Liu Family Medical Hall. After bringing it to a boil over high heat, he lowered the flame and let it simmer.

The aroma of meat mingled with the faint bitterness of medicinal herbs and gradually spread, filling the courtyard with a warm, inviting fragrance.

The stew had been simmering for only half an hour when a voice sounded outside the courtyard gate. "Little Jing, are you home?"

Yang Jing went out to greet them and saw Yang Lao San, the peddler from his village, driving an ox cart. Behind him stood two people: Yang Jing's older cousin, Yang An, and Yang Lao San's son, Yang Wei.

"Greetings, Brother Jing."

Seeing Yang Jing, the rather scrawny Yang Wei standing behind Yang Lao San hurriedly offered a somewhat awkward bow.

Yang Wei was actually about the same age as Yang Jing, only half a year younger.

But Yang Jing had made progress in martial arts and ate meat every day, devouring all sorts of foods that replenished blood and qi and internal energy. He stood a full head taller than Yang Wei, looking as though he were four or five years older.

Moreover, everyone in Yang Family Village, and even throughout Wazi Township, now knew that Yang Jing had achieved success in martial arts. A short while ago, Ning Xuezhi, a major landowner ranked among the foremost in all of Wazi Township, had sent people to deliver many fine gifts to the Yang Family again.

Yang Lao San and his son Yang Wei, who had both been present, remembered that scene vividly.

Although Yang Jing had not returned to Yang Family Village for some time, the village was already filled with tales about him.

Now that Yang Wei was face-to-face with Brother Yang Jing, whose reputation resounded throughout Wazi Township, he naturally felt very nervous.

Yang Jing smiled and nodded. "Third Uncle, Brother An, Little Wei, you're finally here! Come on, hurry inside. I bought some dishes from a restaurant and stewed some nourishing tiger meat. Let's eat together."

Smiling, Yang Jing welcomed the three of them while taking the cloth bundle from Yang An's hands.

"No, no. I still need to buy some goods, then hurry back. You all eat. Getting them here to you is enough, Little Jing. I won't trouble you any further," Yang Lao San said, hastily waving his hands.

"Third Uncle, what are you saying?" Yang Jing firmly pulled him into the courtyard. "I've troubled you plenty all along, and this time you even went to the effort of bringing Brother An. Could one meal possibly eat me out of house and home?"

Yang Jing pulled him inside, then shut the courtyard gate with a smack and slid the bolt into place.

Seeing this, Yang Lao San knew that Yang Jing sincerely wanted him to stay for a meal, and warmth stirred in his heart.

They were fellow villagers, after all, with the same ancestral blood in their veins. Even now that he had prospered, Yang Jing did not look down on his old neighbors.

Yang Jing had no idea what Yang Lao San was thinking. He ushered them into the main room, then took Yang An to the kitchen to carry out all the food.

The moment they lifted the lid from the earthenware pot, the rich aroma of tiger meat rushed straight into their noses.

Yang Lao San and his son had never seen a spread like this. They could only stare.

In times like these, ordinary families were lucky to eat pork. Fierce beast meat like tiger meat was something they rarely even heard of.