Baji Quan

Baji Quan (Manifest Strength 196/600)

"No wonder it's the top-ranked Martial Arts Hall. Its kung fu is hard to train. Just this basic Training Method took me nearly an entire afternoon before I finally entered the hall. Still too slow..."

"To reach Great Accomplishment, it'll probably take a full two days. Master will surely be disappointed when he sees it..."

"I wonder how long Master took to reach Great Accomplishment back then. But since he cultivated Manifest Strength the moment he got started, two days should be enough, right?"

"No, I need extra training! When I get back tonight, I'll train another three shichen! Diligence makes up for clumsiness; the stupid bird flies first!"

"Before I come tomorrow, I'll strive to pierce through three layers of paper without tearing them, reaching Minor Accomplishment. I can't disappoint Master too much!"

A powerful sense of crisis rose in Huo Yuanhong's heart.

How could there be such a freak as Master in this world? His cultivation speed was even faster than Huo Yuanhong's, despite his "one part effort, three hundred and sixty-five parts harvest"!

Those of our generation still needed to work harder and be more diligent!

"Train! Keep training! As long as it doesn't kill me, train myself to death!"

Enduring the soreness in his muscles, Huo Yuanhong straightened his back and continued practicing, again and again.

From the very moment he entered the Martial Arts Hall, he had measured himself against Master, the number one in Jin Gate.

At the Martial Arts Hall, not only were there ready-made Training Methods to guide him, but all food, drink, and daily necessities were taken care of. He did not need to worry about anything and could devote himself entirely to martial arts.

His progress was more than two or three times faster than blindly practicing outside!

Time slipped away without him noticing in this state of complete absorption.

By the time the sun was sinking in the west, the panel's progress had become Baji Quan (Manifest Strength 209/600).

Compared to noon, it had risen by sixty or seventy, nearly matching the gains from a full day and night of bitter training before!

At this rate, in just another three or four days, he would bring Manifest Strength to completion!

Seeing that it was getting late, Huo Yuanhong put away his spear and went to the accountant to collect this month's one-hundred-silver-dollar living allowance.

That was such a large sum that it nearly matched his father's wages for an entire year of hard work. It was better to take it first, just for peace of mind.

After receiving the money, he bought a White Wax Spear, six large boxes of xuan paper piled high, and a set of protective gear for his joints during training within the hall. Then he hired several handymen to carry them home.

It cost sixty-one silver dollars!

That was after the sixty-percent discount granted because of his status as a personal disciple!

"Martial arts are a gold-devouring pit!"

Huo Yuanhong truly understood the meaning of those words.

The expense of buying these training tools alone equaled more than half a year of his father's wages.

Moreover, even a specially treated White Wax Spear would continually wear down during practice. It basically had to be replaced every month, and even the cheapest cost thirty-six silver dollars each.

Xuan paper was an even more consumable item. A single night of training would likely use up two boxes.

That meant even three or four Rickshaw pullers like his father, working themselves to the bone, could hardly afford the cost of the equipment alone.

Not to mention that ordinary people's hard-earned money was calculated down to the last detail. Most lived at the point where they would not starve to death, yet had nothing left over.

After deducting daily expenses, almost nothing remained of what they earned. Saving five or ten silver dollars in a year was already considered good.

To spend sixty-one silver dollars on equipment all at once like he had, one would have to save until who knew what year of the monkey or month of the horse!

Fortunately, as a personal disciple, all of his expenses within the Martial Arts Hall were covered by the hall. He could also go directly to Spring Return Hall to collect the secret medicine needed for Manifest Strength. He only had to pay out of pocket when taking equipment and such out of the hall.

"There are still thirty-nine silver dollars left. I'll use them to improve the meals. That's about one silver dollar a day—I can eat quite lavishly. Fish and meat at every meal won't be a problem."

As Huo Yuanhong left the Martial Arts Hall, the corner of his eye suddenly caught a glimpse of someone's back.

"Eh?"

He paused slightly. That figure looked like his father, but it was too far away, and he had only caught a hurried glimpse, so it was hard to be certain.

When he squeezed forward to take a closer look, the person had already vanished into the surging crowd. There was no trace of him to be found, no matter how Huo Yuanhong searched.

"I probably saw wrong..."

Huo Yuanhong shook his head faintly.

His father had rarely returned these past few days. He was even out at night, though Huo Yuanhong had no idea what he was busy with.

Fortunately, from now on, with the Martial Arts Hall's monthly allowance of one hundred silver dollars, his family would be able to live without worry. His father would no longer need to work so hard.

"Sir."

Father Huo bent over carefully and led a Divine Spear Martial Hall steward to the rickshaw. Only after the man had settled himself securely did he start pulling the vehicle at a light run.

The steward was fat as a ball and exceptionally heavy, weighing as much as two people. Father Huo had to pull quickly while keeping the ride steady, and it took great effort. Before long, the short shirt on his back was soaked through with sweat.

"Ah, I really came across something rare today. The hall actually got another personal disciple, and Old Xu kept him hidden away, refusing to reveal his real name no matter what..."

"Judging by his appearance, he was quite young. He might not even have been twenty..."

Father Huo acted as though he had heard none of the fat steward's muttering and simply kept his head down, pulling the rickshaw with all his strength.

The reason the fat steward had chosen him to pull his rickshaw was because Father Huo kept his mouth shut and never said more than he should.

Still, he could not help feeling envious inside.

Not yet twenty... wasn't that about A-Hong's age? Yet he was already the Hall Master's personal disciple!

What kind of heaven-blessed genius was that!

If only his A-Hong could also...

If A-Hong had even one-tenth of that personal disciple genius's talent, he would be satisfied.

"Sir, I've already scraped together the last of the money. When can my boy's job be settled...?"

Only after the fat steward had stopped musing did Father Huo carefully ask.

These days, he had been running about for his son's job. Among the positions at the Carriage Firm, the most coveted was undoubtedly that of a Rickshaw puller for Divine Spear Martial Hall.

Not only did they only need to make two round trips a day, making the work quite easy, but the pay was also generous—an entire ten silver dollars a month!

Naturally, many people competed for such a fine job. Father Huo himself had not even managed to secure a long-term position, but for the sake of his child, he had found every possible way to curry favor with a hall steward, hoping the man would put in a word for him.

As a steward with real authority in Divine Spear Martial Hall, even Patrol Chiefs from the government had to be polite when they saw him. To Father Huo—and even to the former Huo Yuanhong—he was a great figure far beyond their reach. Arranging such a small matter should naturally have been effortless for him.

"Old Huo, you know it too. Ever since the Martial Guild issued the Martial Prohibition Decree, many common folk have been unable to join Martial Arts Halls, so they've turned to seeking all kinds of jobs at the halls...

"After all, even if you're only pulling rickshaws or cooking for a Martial Arts Hall, you stand a cut above others when you say it aloud. As long as you don't make mistakes, it's practically an iron rice bowl..."

Listening to the steward, Father Huo began to feel a foreboding in his heart.

By the usual practice, the price of securing a good job was a year and a half of wages—one hundred and eighty silver dollars.

But if too many people were competing for it, the price would probably rise.

Sure enough, after a brief pause, the steward in the rickshaw drawled, "So, with so many people fighting over it, the job naturally becomes more sought-after. It's three hundred and sixty silver dollars for one now."

Three hundred and sixty silver dollars!

Father Huo froze on the spot.

Even if he sold himself, he probably could not scrape together such a huge sum.

Even for the original one hundred and eighty silver dollars, he had only managed to gather enough after swallowing his pride and borrowing one hundred and sixty from Wu Xiaoxia.

Now it had suddenly risen to three hundred and sixty silver dollars. How could he possibly come up with that?!

"Three hundred and sixty silver dollars is the current price. In another month, it'll most likely rise again. Old Huo, you should think it over carefully. If you can't gather the money, wouldn't selling the house solve it?"

Sitting in the rickshaw and enjoying the cool evening breeze, the steward spoke unhurriedly. "If it truly doesn't work, you can owe my twenty-percent commission for now. I'll count it as a loan to you. Pay it off within two years, and one share of interest will be enough."

Sell the house...

Father Huo fell silent.

That old house was shabby and worn, and cockroaches crawled everywhere whenever the season came. The environment was terrible, but no matter what, it was the foundation that kept his family rooted in Jin Gate.

Generation after generation of incense and descendants depended on that old house to carry on. No matter how poor or difficult things became, no one had ever dared sell it.

Before his father died, the last thing he told him was to watch over their old house and not disgrace their ancestors.

That evening, after Father Huo sent the steward in the rickshaw home, he sat in the corner of an alley. He took out the pipe hidden beneath the rickshaw, rolled a few leaves into it, lit it, and slowly smoked.

He could not bear to buy tobacco leaves. He had not smoked tobacco for nearly ten years.

Whenever he truly could not endure it, he would roll a few tree leaves to ease the craving.

He saved even that little bit of tobacco money for A-Hong.

The sky gradually darkened. There were fewer and fewer people in the streets and alleys, and the place slowly grew deserted.

Only Father Huo remained, sitting beside the rickshaw and slowly smoking his pipe. Several withered yellow leaves slowly curled in the embers, then fell as specks of ash with a light tap of the pipe.

Until the sun slowly set, he remained silent, like the foul, hard stone at the corner of the alley.

"I'm old."

Looking at the hunched, blurry figure reflected in a puddle, Father Huo murmured.

Back then, he had been like A-Hong—young, full of vigor, with strength that seemed impossible to exhaust.

But after so many years of pulling rickshaws, his waist and back could no longer straighten, and his hair had turned white.

A-Hong... absolutely could not become like him, laboring for a lifetime, left with a body full of sickness and pain, forced to bow and scrape before others every day.

Even if he could not make something of himself in the future, with a rickshaw-pulling job at Divine Spear Martial Hall, he could at least eat and dress warmly and live out the rest of his life with ease.

As for what would happen afterward, how the family line would continue without the old house...

"As long as A-Hong lives well, that's enough..."

"That's enough..."

Amid his murmurs, Father Huo hunched his back and slowly walked toward home.

His shadow stretched long, long beneath the dim yellow setting sun.