Martial Arts Prodigy!?

"Here's your training uniform and the locker number. Go change first, and I'll take you to the training ground."

Early in the morning, Qi Hao was already waiting for Fang Qingyu at the martial arts hall.

"Alright."

Fang Qingyu took the clothes and walked into the changing room, where quite a few people were already inside.

But aside from Qi Hao, he didn't really know anyone here. He quickly changed and followed Qi Hao toward the training ground.

"Qingzi, don't sweat the tuition fees. I believe with your talent, you'll definitely become an Elite Disciple someday."

"When you go out to compete and place even slightly high, the prize money alone could be tens of thousands."

On the way, worried that Fang Qingyu might be fretting over the fees, Qi Hao offered a word of comfort.

Fang Qingyu paused slightly at that.

"Competition? What competition?"

"The Martial Arts Competition. It's usually organized by the city's martial arts halls in collaboration with the authorities. The prize money is high—first place can get up to a million. But only Elite Disciples can sign up."

Fang Qingyu frowned.

He'd never heard of an event with such high stakes, not even online.

"These competitions are closed-door. No spectators except for the hall's disciples, so it's normal you wouldn't know."

Qi Hao could tell what Fang Qingyu was thinking and added another explanation.

Fang Qingyu nodded, then asked the key question.

"How do you become a Formal Disciple or an Elite Disciple?"

"There's no set standard for Formal Disciple. As long as the instructor thinks your stance work is up to par, you're in. As for Elite Disciple..."

"Besides your martial arts foundation, it also depends on your talent."

Qi Hao's expression turned a bit bitter as he spoke.

"Got it."

Seeing this, Fang Qingyu didn't press further.

"But with your talent, you'll definitely make it."

Qi Hao quickly pulled himself together and slung an arm around Fang Qingyu's shoulder.

Fang Qingyu let out a wry laugh.

"You're that confident in me?"

"Absolutely. I've already talked to your instructor. If there's anything you don't get, just ask—don't worry about bothering him."

"Alright, thanks."

They exchanged a light punch to each other's shoulder and headed to their respective training areas.

The new recruits were arranged in the first row.

"My surname is Qin. Just call me Instructor Qin."

Instructor Qin glanced at the newcomers in the front row, introduced himself briefly, and then got straight to the point.

"Practicing Martial Arts without a stance is like a house without pillars!"

"Stance work is the foundation of martial arts. If your lower body is unstable, no matter how exquisite your techniques, they'll be hollow."

"Today, I'm teaching you the first form: Rooted Mountain Stance."

As he spoke, Instructor Qin suddenly stripped off his black Training Uniform jacket, revealing scarred, sinewy arms.

He twisted his feet, grinding them half a foot apart on the ground, then stepped his left foot half a pace back. His spine sank vertebra by vertebra, like a dragon descending into the abyss.

"Eyes watch the nose, nose watches the heart."

Instructor Qin's throat didn't move as he spoke, but his voice vibrated in everyone's ears.

He held that posture for a full three minutes, until the bulging veins on his neck gradually subsided. Then, with a sudden exhale, he shouted, "Turn!"

His right leg cut through the air like a giant axe, and when his foot slapped the ground, a ring of dust exploded upward.

"That's the closing stance."

Instructor Qin slowly straightened up.

"When you root, be like a mountain taking hold. When you pivot, be like a giant serpent shedding its skin."

Before the newcomers could snap out of their shock, Instructor Qin had already put his uniform back on.

"Now, everyone assume the preparatory stance."

Without the trouble of a Brain Condition, Fang Qingyu's memory was as sharp as anyone's, so he could roughly recall the moves.

But whether it was because Qi Hao had put in a word or because he was in the front row, he wasn't sure.

The moment he bent his knees, Instructor Qin walked over and nudged his foot. "Your knees are too far apart."

Fang Qingyu's expression didn't change. He adjusted his posture.

Instructor Qin then moved on to the next person.

Before Practicing Martial Arts, Fang Qingyu had thought this would be a test of physical fitness and comprehension.

He never expected that, once he started training in the stance, the first trial would be control over his own body.

Stiff. Too stiff!!

Rooted Mountain Stance felt like it was teaching you from scratch how to start a tractor that had been rusting for years.

Every part of his body screamed stiff.

It wasn't tiring, though.

But every joint and muscle kept telling him he couldn't go on, that he couldn't keep it running.

That awareness made people want to stop without thinking.

The other trainees were the same.

One by one, they collapsed with groans filling the air.

Soon, only a few veteran trainees and Fang Qingyu remained standing.

Instructor Qin, watching from the back, blinked in surprise.

That kid Qi Hao—did he actually dig up a genius???

What he didn't know was that Fang Qingyu was barely holding on by staring at the book in front of him.

The second page of the Job Chart.

Martial Arts Apprentice job activating (8/100)

Activation experience +1

He didn't know how long passed.

Only when he felt a hand on his shoulder did he finally give out.

Luckily, that hand caught him before he could fall.

"Thanks, Instructor Qin."

Fang Qingyu turned his head and nodded in thanks.

"Trained before?"

Instructor Qin slowly helped Fang Qingyu sit down, frowning slightly as he asked.

"No. First time."

Fang Qingyu blinked, then shook his head.

"Not bad."

Instructor Qin gave a faint nod and walked to the front.

"Rest for half an hour. Better not just sit still—move your joints a bit."

With that, he headed to the side of the training ground.

The trainees immediately exploded, letting out the groans they'd been holding back.

It wasn't tiring.

But it hurt.

Fang Qingyu was the same.

Right now, it felt like needles were stabbing every muscle in his body.

Still, when he looked at the Job Panel, where the activation progress had already reached 11%, the pain seemed to ease just a little.

When anything has a progress bar, the motivation inside you gets magnified endlessly.

"Nice one, Qingzi!"

Just then, Qi Hao finished his own training and came over, slapping Fang Qingyu on the shoulder.

He'd been training on the other side but had been keeping an eye on things.

"Ow—hurts, hurts, hurts."

Fang Qingyu sucked in a sharp breath.

"Don't sweat it. Go hard. When class is over, I'll take you somewhere to loosen up."

Qi Hao found it funny—he'd been through the same thing—then leaned in, raised an eyebrow, and lowered his voice.

Fang Qingyu gave him a strange look.

No matter how he looked at it, it seemed shady.

Half an hour passed quickly, and Instructor Qin returned.

This time, the trainees were split into two groups.

The first group, including Fang Qingyu, continued training in Rooted Mountain Stance.

The others continued training in the next stance technique.

Two cycles passed like this.

"Stop."

Instructor Qin suddenly called out to Fang Qingyu.

Fang Qingyu slowly straightened up, a look of confusion on his face.

"Your progress is good enough to learn the second stance."

Instructor Qin led Fang Qingyu over to the group of students practicing the second stance.

He took two bamboo poles from a wooden rack nearby and laid them across Fang Qingyu's shoulders: "The second stance is called 'Horse-Riding Stance.' Watch closely."

He spread his legs to about one and a half times shoulder width, bending his knees at an angle so precise it looked like it was carved by a protractor: "Your crotch should feel like you're sitting on a saddle, and turn your toes inward fifteen degrees."

His cloth shoes squeaked against the ground as he shifted.

Fang Qingyu mimicked his posture and squatted down, a tearing soreness instantly shooting through his thighs.

Instructor Qin suddenly jabbed the end of a bamboo pole into the back of his knee: "Don't let your knees go past your toes!"

The force from the bamboo pole nearly sent Fang Qingyu to his knees, and he hurriedly adjusted his center of gravity, stepping back.

"Breathe along with your heartbeat." Instructor Qin circled behind him and pressed a hand against his heaving ribs. "Breathe into here—don't shrug your shoulders." His calloused thumb dug into the diaphragm area, and Fang Qingyu suddenly coughed violently.

"Keep going!" The bamboo pole snapped against his trembling calf. "Imagine there's a chair behind you that you're about to sit on but not quite."

By the time sweat had pooled into dark stains on the ground, Fang Qingyu realized the Horse-Riding Stance was far more torturous than the Rooted Mountain Stance.

The muscles in the front of his thighs twitched uncontrollably, and the soles of his feet felt like they were stepping on red-hot iron plates.

But when he stole a glance at the other students, he saw even the veterans barely managed to hold on for five minutes.

"Rotate your hips!" Instructor Qin suddenly kicked his left hip bone.

Fang Qingyu stumbled through a half-turn, and the bamboo poles clattered to the ground.

Just as he bent down to pick them up, a bamboo strip lashed across his wrist: "If the horse stance breaks, you start over!"

It wasn't until his third attempt that he barely managed to complete the hip rotation.

Then, Instructor Qin placed three blue bricks on his thighs: "When the bricks stop wobbling, that's when you've truly begun."

This sudden, strict hands-on instruction left Fang Qingyu in a mix of pain and joy.

The pain was physical.

The joy came from the Job Panel's activation progress, which was skyrocketing.