After seeing Xiang Qichen off, Zhuang Jin continued practicing martial arts. In the blink of an eye, it was You Shi—five in the afternoon.
Sure enough, no miracle occurred. The only Formal Martial Artist produced under him this month was Du Yunqi. No one broke through that afternoon, and the remaining Martial Students departed one after another. Before leaving, Zhang Ming came over to visit him.
"Master Zhuang, I have failed your expectations." Zhang Ming's face was full of shame.
Zhuang Jin said nothing, merely patting his shoulder.
After seeing him to the gate of the Outer Courtyard, Zhuang Jin watched Zhang Ming's departing back and gained some understanding of Ping Yongfeng's mindset back then. He sighed inwardly, In a world where supernatural power exists, lacking martial talent means one's ceiling is locked from the start. No matter how astonishingly gifted one may be in other areas, it is useless; one can only fade into the faceless crowd... Fortunately, I am not one of the countless ordinary people burdened with poor martial talent.
"Brother Zhuang!" A voice suddenly rang out. Qian Wende had arrived, his attitude exceedingly warm. That cry of "Brother Zhuang" rose and fell with emotion, as though he were greeting a blood brother he had not seen in ages—enough to make listeners sorrowful and hearers weep.
What was more, the fellow had not come empty-handed. He carried a large package of food and wine, meat and vegetables alike, clearly having put thought into it.
—If Qian Wende's teammates from North of the City this month saw this scene, their jaws would likely drop to the ground. They had only ever seen Qian Wende take advantage of others—who would have thought he could actually give something away? Had the sun risen in the west?
It could only be