Yang An Enters the City

Yang Jing watched the man emerge, stuff the pearl hairpin into his accomplice's hands, and exchange glances with the others. They immediately scattered in three directions, their steps swift as they vanished into the alleyways in the blink of an eye. Their movements were remarkably slick.

"Heh." A cold smile curled at the corner of Yang Jing's lips, and he could not help but find it a little amusing.

It was certainly a novel trick—pretending to be someone's husband, snatching something in broad daylight and running off. It spared them the trouble of drawing blades and weapons, while letting them get away before anyone else could react. It truly was "concise and effective."

That woman, however, would probably have to swallow her grievance in silence. Not only had she been publicly "taught a lesson," she had also lost her jewelry. Even if she told others about it, they might not believe it had been a robbery.

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

In these times, the world was growing ever more chaotic. Gangs filled the city, and all manner of tricks emerged one after another.

He withdrew his gaze, did not linger, and quickened his pace toward the martial arts school.

Chengping Ward, Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

Yang Jing entered through the martial arts school's gates and came to the front courtyard, where he removed his short upper garment and revealed his sturdy arms.

Morning light fell upon his taut muscles. Sweat had yet to seep out, but his skin already carried a faint flush from the circulation of Internal Energy.

He walked up to a wooden post. The instant he settled into the opening stance of Mountain Collapse Fist, his punch smashed out with a howl of wind.

Second by second, more and more disciples came to train in the front courtyard.

"Sink your elbow. Put more explosive force into it."

Sun Yong's voice came from the direction of the moon gate.

Dressed in a dark blue training uniform, he wandered casually through the courtyard, offering pointers to the disciples.

Today, however, Sun Yong was mainly instructing Xu Hong, Zhao Wenzheng, Qi Yun, Lin Yue, and several others.

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

As he practiced his punches, he subtly adjusted his techniques. From the corner of his eye, he saw his master Sun Yong coaching Xu Hong and the others one by one, explaining everything in meticulous detail—from the finer points of their fist forms to the deployment of Internal Energy.

Half an hour later, Liu Maolin, dressed in a fitted martial outfit, strode briskly in through the martial arts school's gates.

Seeing that Liu Maolin had arrived as well, Sun Yong immediately clapped his hands. "Get your spirits up! Today, we're going to spar with the disciples of Iron Fist Martial Arts School. Talk less, fight more, and hold up our banner!"

The registered disciples in the sparring team answered in unison, each of them rubbing their fists and itching for a fight.

With the Parade Ground Trial fast approaching, it would be difficult to make much improvement in the short term. For these disciples, practical sparring was the best training before the Parade Ground Trial, allowing them to identify weaknesses and make up for shortcomings in real combat.

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

Sunlight shone from behind Yang Jing, gilding the sharp contours of his profile with a golden edge. The dull thuds of his fists striking the wooden post were steady and powerful.

This kid's Hidden Strength was already quite solid. If he went along to spar, his practical combat experience would surely improve by no small measure.

But Sun Yong had previously asked Sun Ningxiang to sound Yang Jing out. The kid was foolish, slow-witted, and stubborn; all he knew was to keep his head down and practice his fists. He had no intention whatsoever of joining the martial arts school's sparring team.

Sun Yong secretly shook his head.

So be it. Since the kid was unwilling, then forget it. The sparring team's roster was more or less full already; any more people, and they would become difficult to look after.

In truth, he had other plans in mind.

For seven years, no disciple of Sun Clan Martial Arts School had made the Parade Ground Trial rankings. Although Yang Jing had attained Hidden Strength, he had only broken through recently and his foundation was still shallow. In a place like the Parade Ground Trial, where crouching tigers and hidden dragons abounded, he would basically only be there to make up the numbers.

At the very least, Yang Jing had no hope of making the Parade Ground Trial rankings this year. If he was given a few more years to hone himself, perhaps he might have a chance to win even half an official position, while bringing fame to Sun Clan Martial Arts School.

For this year's Parade Ground Trial, the one they truly had to rely on was Lin Yue.

Though Lin Yue had yet to reach the peak of Hidden Strength, his solid Mountain Collapse Fist and his own talent for combat gave him an extremely high win rate when sparring against Hidden Strength experts from other martial arts schools. His practical combat experience was far beyond that of Yang Jing, a newly advanced Hidden Strength practitioner who rarely sparred or exchanged blows with others.

Whether they could break the seven-year deadlock in this Parade Ground Trial depended on Lin Yue. Sun Yong had placed his bet on him.

In Sun Yong's eyes, even his senior disciple Xu Hong, who had already reached the peak of Hidden Strength, had less hope of making the Parade Ground Trial rankings than Lin Yue did.

"Let's go."

Sun Yong no longer gave it any thought. With a wave of his hand, he turned and led the martial arts school's sparring team outside.

In the front courtyard, Yang Jing remained focused on practicing his fists, his fist wind as steady as ever.

He did not know what his master Sun Yong was thinking at the moment, but he could sense the meaningful look in his master's eyes. Still, Yang Jing did not waver and continued concentrating on his own fists.

His path was different from everyone else's.

For other martial artists, practical sparring might help them attain sudden enlightenment, break through bottlenecks, and improve their strength. But Yang Jing had no need for such complications. As long as he cultivated step by step and trained a martial art to its limit, he could break through directly without encountering any bottlenecks.

Even his master Sun Yong did not know this, and Yang Jing would certainly never reveal such an important secret to anyone besides himself.

As for practical combat, he did not lack it in the slightest. By now, more than a few lives had already been lost to his hands.

Besides, he still held a position at Liu Family Medical Hall. Although Liu Family Medical Hall tried to assign him as few tasks as possible and took rather good care of him, he still went out on missions two or three times every month.

In these times, he often encountered bandits outside. When faced with such villains, words could not drive them away. What drove off those bandits and protected the medicinal materials were fists.

Thus, when it came to practical combat experience, there were only a few people in the entire martial arts school who could compare to him.

So rather than waste time traveling back and forth and sparring one by one with disciples from other martial arts schools, he would rather spend that time improving himself.

How could the ferocity of Mountain Collapse Fist link more smoothly with the agility of Surging Wave Leg? Was there a way to circulate Hidden Strength with greater ease, to release and withdraw it more freely? These were what he needed to ponder most right now.

As for the Parade Ground Trial, Senior Brother Liu Maolin had said that this year, he should simply familiarize himself with it first. After honing himself for a few more years and improving his strength further, he would have a chance of passing the Parade Ground Trial. But he did not want to wait "a few more years."

Since there was an opportunity this year, he had to try to seize it. How many years did a person have in life to waste?

As fist shadows whirled, Yang Jing's gaze grew sharper and sharper.

If others didn't think highly of him, then he would prove himself.

As Sun Yong led the sparring team out of the martial arts school, the intense atmosphere of training in the front courtyard quietly began to change—or rather, it split into two camps.

The Bright Strength disciples qualified to take part in the Parade Ground Trial did not dare slacken. Their fists and kicks grew increasingly forceful. Although those who made it onto the Parade Ground Trial rankings every year were all Hidden Strength experts, they each had their own ambitions: to shine at the trial and make a name for themselves in one stroke. Even if they could not make the rankings, they hoped to catch the eye of those important figures.

On the other side, four or five ordinary registered disciples who had yet to touch the threshold of Bright Strength gathered in a corner to rest and chat, their voices not particularly low.

One of them said, "I think Senior Brother Lin Yue will definitely pass this year's Parade Ground Trial and make the rankings. Master truly poured his heart and soul into teaching him."

A disciple beside him nodded. "I heard that Senior Brother Lin Yue sparred with an expert from Weiyuan Martial Arts School a few days ago and defeated one of their Hidden Strength experts within twenty moves. With strength like that, he's probably no less capable than Eldest Senior Brother."

"Exactly," another disciple with average innate talent chimed in. His gaze inadvertently swept over Yang Jing, who was still intently practicing his punches in the courtyard, and his tone carried a trace of regret. "Senior Brother Yang Jing is Hidden Strength too, but his innate talent is low-grade after all. He's always just practicing by himself there every day. Last time, Senior Sister Ningxiang invited him to join the sparring team, but he didn't go. He probably knows perfectly well that he can only serve as background scenery at this year's Parade Ground Trial."

"You can't put it like that," one disciple said with a frown. "Senior Brother Yang's foundation is extremely solid. Even the school master said Senior Brother Yang has hope of reaching Transforming Strength. It's just... he's too quiet. Compared with Senior Brother Lin Yue, he lacks some drive and spark."

These registered disciples did not know that, to Hidden Strength experts, even if they lowered their voices, their conversation could still be faintly heard.

Their intermittent discussion drifted into Yang Jing's ears, yet he acted as though he had heard nothing, driving punch after punch into the wooden post with even force and an utterly unbroken rhythm.

Wood chips fluttered down, accumulating in a thin layer around his feet.

To him, other people's judgments were like wind by his ears—once it blew past, it scattered.

Whether it was Lin Yue's glory or the idle gossip of others, none of it could disrupt his rhythm.

He knew his own path.

Hidden Strength was not his endpoint.

Neither would Transforming Strength be his endpoint.

The Parade Ground Trial was a touchstone, but it was even less an endpoint.

All he needed to do now was throw every punch before him well and refine every thread of Internal Energy until it flowed more smoothly.

Until he reached the peak of Hidden Strength, then broke through into Transforming Strength, and finally climbed to even greater heights.

When the sun climbed overhead, Yang Jing withdrew his fists.

His master had not yet returned with the sparring team.

Yang Jing wiped away his sweat with a cloth towel, put on his short outer jacket, picked up his old cloth bag, and headed for the martial arts school's main gate.

Judging by the time, Brother An and the others should be arriving soon, Yang Jing thought to himself as he looked at the sky. I'll go buy some meat and vegetables at West Market first. Once Brother An gets here, I can leave all these trivial chores to him. It'll let him get out and interact with the outside world more, and save me plenty of time as well.

After leaving the Sun Clan Martial Arts School, Yang Jing hurried all the way toward West Market.

Even from two streets away, he could hear the bustle of West Market.

Yang Jing easily found the hunter's stall he frequented. The tiger meat hanging from the stall glistened with the fresh red color of newly hunted game.

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

"Old Qin, you've got a tiger hanging here every few days. Don't tell me you've killed off all the tigers in Yuhe County?" Yang Jing joked with a smile.

Hunter Qin grinned and waved a hand. "I don't have the skill to hunt tigers alone. We live off the mountain when we're by the mountain, and off the water when we're by the water. Our village lies at the foot of Tiger Mountain, and the whole village consists of hunters who mainly make their living hunting tigers. I'm only selling tiger meat on behalf of our village. Once I go back, I still have to divide the earnings."

Yang Jing smiled.

Both Jizhou and Caozhou were plains regions, with few high mountains or hills. Yuhe County was famous for the Yu River, and rivers and lakes were plentiful within its borders. There was only one mountain: the Tiger Mountain Hunter Qin spoke of.

"Old Qin, give me five jin," Yang Jing said. "Oh, and my cousin may often come here to buy meat for me in the future. Please take good care of him when he does."

"You're a major customer at our stall, so of course I'll take care of him. Just have him mention your name, and I won't overcharge him, haha." Hunter Qin laughed as he cut up the tiger meat for Yang Jing.

Yang Jing took the tiger meat, exchanged a few words with him, then left carrying the lotus-leaf parcel.

After leaving the hunter's stall, Yang Jing turned into a nearby restaurant and bought four small dishes, two meat and two vegetable: braised pork knuckle, stir-fried kidney, and two seasonal green vegetables. He had them wrapped in oiled paper and carried them in his hand.

Upon returning to the courtyard in Tongyi Ward, Yang Jing went straight into the kitchen.

He first steamed rice in the large pot, then set up a clay pot. He chopped the tiger meat into chunks and blanched it, added slices of ginger to remove the gaminess, then tossed in several medicinal ingredients taken from the Liu Family Medical Hall. After bringing it to a boil over high heat, he turned it down to a low flame and let it slowly stew.

The fragrance of meat mixed with the faint bitterness of medicinal herbs gradually spread through the air, soon filling the courtyard with a warm, comforting aroma.

Just as it had been stewing for half an hour, a voice came from outside the courtyard gate. "Little Jing, are you home?"

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

"Yang Wei greets Brother Jing."

The somewhat thin Yang Wei, standing behind Yang Lao San, hurriedly bowed somewhat stiffly when he saw Yang Jing.

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

But Yang Jing had achieved success in martial arts. He lacked no meat in his daily meals and consumed all manner of ingredients that replenished his blood, qi, and Internal Energy. He stood a full head taller than Yang Wei, looking four or five years older.

Moreover, everyone in Yang Family Village and even Wazi Township now knew that Yang Jing had achieved success in martial arts. Some time ago, Ning Xuezhi, one of the foremost great landowners in all of Wazi Township, had sent people to deliver many fine things to the Yang family.

Yang Lao San and Yang Wei, father and son, had both been present at the time and remembered that scene vividly.

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

Now that Yang Wei had met Brother Jing, whose renown shook all of Wazi Township, he naturally felt extremely nervous.

Yang Jing smiled and nodded. "Third Uncle, Brother An, Xiao Wei, you've finally arrived. Come on, hurry inside. I bought some dishes from the restaurant and stewed some nourishing tiger meat too. Let's eat together."

Yang Jing greeted the three with a smile as he took the cloth bundle from Yang An's hands.

"No, no. I still need to buy some goods, then hurry back. You all eat. I've delivered the man to you, Xiaojing—that's enough. I won't impose any further," Yang Lao San said, hurriedly waving his hands.

"Third Uncle, what are you saying?" Yang Jing forcibly pulled him into the courtyard. "You've helped me plenty all this time. This time, you even went through the trouble of bringing Brother An over. Could one meal possibly eat me poor?"

Yang Jing pulled him into the courtyard, then shut the gate with a bang and slid the bolt home from the inside.

Seeing this, Yang Lao San knew Yang Jing truly wanted him to stay for dinner, and warmth surged through his heart.

They were fellow villagers, after all. The same blood ran through their veins from their ancestors. Even though Yang Jing had made it big now, he still didn't look down on old neighbors like them.

Yang Jing had no idea what Yang Lao San was thinking. He ushered them straight into the main hall, then took Yang An with him to the kitchen to bring out all the dishes.

The moment the lid of the clay pot was lifted, the rich aroma of Tiger meat drilled straight into their noses.

Yang Lao San and his son had never seen such a spread. Their eyes went wide and fixed.

In times like these, ordinary families were doing well if they could eat pork. Fierce Beast Meat like tiger meat was something they rarely even heard of.