Punishment Like a Mountain Peak

The conversation on the solitary peak was naturally unknown to Wang Anfeng. The chains and buckets on his body weighed at least two hundred jin combined. A small portion of the chains dragged on the ground with his movements, creating two very noticeable marks on the stone steps, indicative of their heaviness.

Without any internal force, and with the Shaolin mountain path being steep and towering, by the time Wang Anfeng reached the Qinghe River at the foot of the mountain, he was drenched in sweat. These two iron buckets were incredibly heavy, yet their capacity was extremely small. Compared to water buckets, they were more like two large hammers with hollowed-out depressions for carrying water.

He struggled to fill them, but they only held less than twenty jin of water. Thinking of the terrifying ten thousand jin target, the young man gritted his teeth and, trembling, turned to ascend the stone steps. Descending the mountain with the chains felt like carrying a peak on his back; ascending felt like being pulled by a wild ox. The internal force of the One Zen Skill within him was oppressed by this brute strength, instead beginning to surge through his flesh and meridians, causing increasing itchiness and unbearable pain.

He took twice the time it took to descend to return to the mountaintop.

Where he usually practiced his punches, ten enormous water urns had appeared. Next to them were stone steps, clearly meant for him to place his ten thousand jin of water. Wang Anfeng gritted his teeth and carefully stepped onto the impossibly narrow stone steps. With this weight, if he fell, he would likely be bedridden for at least a month. Thus, despite being bound by the chains, every nerve in his body was taut.

Even the muscles in his feet contracted and exerted force with unprecedented clarity as he stepped onto the stone steps. He cautiously maneuvered the pole, pouring the meager river water into the urns, only managing to wet the bottom of a few. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to pour the water from the other side. However, the uneven weight caused him to lose balance. Furthermore, having just exhaled, his nerves relaxed, and his body swayed, sending him tumbling down.

Wang Anfeng's heart suddenly stopped. With this weight and no internal force to protect him, he knew the consequences from his basic medical knowledge. But just as he was about to smash into the ground, a hand appeared, supporting his back and effortlessly holding up hundreds of jin. Not even a tremor could be felt. Only the crisp clinking of chains echoed and vibrated in the night.

Wang Anfeng's heart began to race. He subconsciously said, "Thank you, Master," before opening his eyes. All he could see was a sharp, cold face. His expression faltered slightly as the middle-aged scholar spoke coldly.

"In any close-quarters combat, footwork is paramount. Shaolin emphasizes external martial arts, placing greater importance on the control of the body's muscles. Your skills are a disgrace to the Shaolin ancestors."

Wang Anfeng blinked, looking at the stern scholar who had saved him, and murmured in disbelief:

"Mr... Mr. Ying?"

"Hmph. You think you're something just because you won a small competition?"

"You defeated them not because you are strong, but because your opponents were too weak. Go down and fetch water!"

Just as Wang Anfeng was about to express his gratitude, he heard a cold snort. The hand behind him vanished as if it had never been there. He, along with the chains and buckets, crashed heavily to the ground. Although the fall was only a few dozen centimeters and didn't cause significant injury, it made Wang Anfeng wince in pain. Another bucket flipped over and landed directly on his head. As his forehead throbbed, the water inside spilled all over him. In the night breeze, the chill deepened.

Wang Anfeng lay there for a full ten minutes before struggling to get up. He wasn't foolish. Mr. Ying's words just now made him realize that this punishment likely had a training purpose. At the very least, it hadn't caused him any real harm, otherwise his master would never have stood by and watched.

With this thought, he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth again, and set off on the mountain path to fetch water.

Trip after trip up and down the mountain, a full ten hours passed until dawn. The sounds of Buddhist chants could already be heard from Shaolin when Wang Anfeng's figure finally staggered out at the end of the mountain path. With every step he took, sweat dripped, leaving dark splotches on the mountain road. His face was incredibly pale, his eyes shifting between confusion and struggle. With each step, the time required grew longer. The final hundred steps took him half an hour.

A small, goose-yellow bird chirped and landed on the iron bucket. Wang Anfeng's body trembled slightly, and he fell to the side. The focus in his eyes finally disappeared completely. The middle-aged scholar, who was in the middle of a move, closed his eyes slightly and sneered.

"Yuan Ci, you've lost this game again."

The monk opposite him chuckled and made a move, reversing the situation from an impossible position and taking the head of his dragon. He raised one hand and looked up at the slightly stunned Mr. Ying.

"No..."

THUD!

Heavy, resounding footsteps echoed, accompanied by a roar of struggle. Mr. Ying's pupils constricted, and he looked up sharply. The young man, who had reached his limit, slammed his right fist onto the bluestone the moment he landed, supporting himself. His eyes were wide with fury. The force was so great that the tip of his right fist cracked, blood dripping, yet he did not let go of the pole.

A flock of birds, startled, scattered. Wang Anfeng, his clothes soaked through, struggled to his feet and climbed the stone steps one by one. Driven by instinct, he poured the remaining river water into the urns.

The young man's not-so-tall figure cast a heavy shadow over Mr. Ying, who opened his eyes slightly. The monk in front reached out and pinched off the black dragon from the chessboard, saying slowly:

"You lost."

SWISH SWISH—

The clanging of chains was still clear. Wang Anfeng staggered down and turned to walk towards the mountain path. But the moment he took a step, his brown eyes dimmed completely, his legs softened, and the iron buckets slipped from his grasp. The young man's pupils widened, and he reached out to grab them.

"Still... not enough..."

SPLASH!

Before the iron buckets hit the ground, Wang Anfeng's body had already fallen heavily. The iron buckets then crashed onto the ground, making a grating sound. Wang Anfeng's eyes were wide open, but his vision was fading uncontrollably. He raised his hand, desperately reaching for the iron buckets.

"Not... enough, I want to... go back..."

"Ten thousand jin..."

His voice abruptly cut off, and his vision returned to a dead silence. His right hand fell limply. Blood flowed from the cracked tip of his fist, diluted by the clear water scattered on the ground.

The sound of fluttering robes exploded. Yuan Ci appeared beside Wang Anfeng like the wind. He raised a hand to check his pulse, and his tense expression relaxed. "He's exhausted..."

He then looked up at his friend beside him, but the latter's face was stern. He rapidly pressed several of Wang Anfeng's vital acupoints with his fingers. Wang Anfeng's lips parted, and in an instant, a pill was flicked into his mouth. It melted upon contact, disappearing into his body. Only then did Mr. Ying stand up, flicking his sleeve, and say coldly:

"Idiot, even more foolish than you!"

"Since he wants to go back so badly, let him go back. He's already broken through his limits several times. If he continues to train, his body won't be able to withstand it even with pills. Give him three times the amount of Qi Gathering Pills and make him practice Shaolin Long Fist while carrying these chains for three hours every day."

"He has to wear the chains even when sleeping and bathing. Hmph. At this rate, he only managed to carry less than thirty jin of water in ten hours today. At this speed, it will take at least a year to complete this punishment!"

Yuan Ci used his internal force to soothe Wang Anfeng's sore muscles. Hearing this, he frowned. "If you don't increase his weight, it won't take a year."

The middle-aged scholar sneered. "You don't need to worry. I have my plans. After all, he is your disciple, and I won't go too far."

Yuan Ci felt a slight relief, then heard him say nonchalantly:

"This set of chains, the heaviest is only three thousand jin."