Martial Arts Hall Apprentice

The black-lacquered gates of the Blustering Wind Martial Hall were even taller and more imposing than Li Yuan had imagined. Two stone lions stood before the entrance, weathered by time and covered in scratches, silently recounting the long history of the hall. The four gilded characters for "Blustering Wind Martial Hall" on the lintel were written with fierce, powerful strokes, exuding an aura of aggression that hit anyone approaching head-on.

At this moment, the area in front of the gates was quite lively. Many youths in various attire, accompanied by family members or servants, were queuing up to register. Most of them were well-dressed and full of vitality, their faces showing expressions of excitement or arrogance. They whispered to one another, their gazes occasionally sweeping across the crowd with a sense of scrutiny and comparison.

Li Yuan was alone. Wearing coarse cloth clothes that had been washed until they were faded and still bore faint, stubborn bloodstains, he looked out of place among the crowd. He gripped a coarse cloth bundle tightly in his hand; inside were the crudely tanned Tusked Boar hide and a pair of ivory-white fangs—his entire fortune and the ticket to step through these doors.

He could feel the gazes cast his way—curiosity, disdain, and even undisguised contempt. But his expression remained calm, his eyes lowered, keeping all his emotions locked deep within, like a stone sinking into a deep pool.

After waiting in line for a long time, it was finally his turn.

The person in charge of registration was a young instructor wearing the martial hall's standard green short jacket. He was in his twenties, with a cold face and thick, calloused knuckles. Without even raising his head, he asked mechanically, "Name, age, address, did you bring the tuition?"

"Li Yuan, fifteen, live in the West City." Li Yuan's voice was steady as he placed the cloth bundle on the desk and opened it. "Tuition... I'll pay with this."

The Tusked Boar hide and fangs were exposed to the air, carrying the pungent, wild scent of the mountain forests.

The young instructor finally looked up. His gaze swept over the hide and fangs, then he sized Li Yuan up from head to toe, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly. He could see that this youth was not particularly strong (Li Yuan had deliberately suppressed his blood energy), and his clothes were tattered. To think he had managed to hunt a Tusked Boar alone? He likely just got lucky, or perhaps he had simply scavenged the remains.

"Tusked Boar materials," the instructor said with an indifferent tone, poking at them with his finger. "The quality is average, and the processing is crude. I'll count it as eight taels of silver; you're still short two taels."

Li Yuan's heart sank. He had inquired about the market price; this complete hide and the pair of intact fangs were worth at least twelve taels. The instructor was clearly lowballing him.

But he did not argue. Now was not the time to be sharp-tongued.

He remained silent, reaching into his pocket to fish out a small cloth bag. He poured out a few scattered pieces of silver and a pile of copper coins—the proceeds from selling the rest of the boar's meat and his remaining meager savings. Putting it all together, he barely managed to scrape up the two taels.

"Here, exactly two taels." He pushed the money forward.

The young instructor looked at him with some surprise, seemingly not expecting this poor kid to actually come up with the full amount. He counted the money expressionlessly, wrote Li Yuan's name in a register, and tossed him a wooden token.

"Class C Room Seven. Go inside and turn right; it's the row of low houses at the very back. Assemble at the training grounds at dawn tomorrow for the basics of the Iron Body Technique. If you're late or don't show up, get lost." His tone was utterly blunt.

"Thank you, Instructor." Li Yuan took the token, thanked him in a low voice, picked up his empty cloth bundle, and turned to walk through the martial hall gates.

Inside the gate was a spacious bluestone training ground. Many apprentices were practicing, sweating profusely, their shouts echoing incessantly. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, dust, and a faint, metallic scent reminiscent of blood.

He did not linger on the training ground and turned right as instructed. Passing through several corridors, the environment suddenly became much more primitive. A row of low, cramped houses that looked like converted storage rooms appeared before his eyes. This was "Class C Room," the living quarters for the lowest-ranked apprentices of the martial hall.

Pushing open the wooden door to Room Seven, a smell of mildew mixed with foot odor hit him. The room was narrow and dim, with four hard wooden beds lined up, covered only by thin straw mats. At this moment, there were people on the other three beds.

A plump, oily-faced youth was lying on a bed with his legs crossed, chewing on a stalk of grass. Seeing Li Yuan enter, he glanced at him sideways and curled his lip.

Another youth, thin and gaunt with a timid look in his eyes, quickly sat up and looked at Li Yuan with some unease.

The last person was a cold-faced youth with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. He merely gave Li Yuan a single glance before closing his eyes again, as if everything outside had nothing to do with him.

The fat youth saw Li Yuan's shabby clothes and the empty bundle in his hand, and sneered, "Oh, another poor wretch? Class C Room is really going downhill. Hey kid, what poor ditch did you crawl out of? Do you know the rules?"

Li Yuan ignored his provocation. His gaze swept across the room and found the empty bed near the door, which was also the dampest spot. He walked over, placed his empty bundle on the bed, and began to tidy up the pitifully thin straw mat.

The chubby youth saw that he didn't answer and felt he had lost face. He sat up abruptly and pointed at Li Yuan. "Hey! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf? Do you know who runs the show in Class C Room?"

Li Yuan still didn't look up; he just calmly tidied his bedding, as if the noisy person before his eyes was nothing more than a fly.

The chubby youth was about to flare up again, but the scrawny youth beside him quickly whispered, "Brother Zhao, forget it, forget it. The newcomer doesn't know any better. We'll deal with him later..."

The chubby youth, addressed as Brother Zhao, glared fiercely at Li Yuan. He then glanced at the cold, stern youth nearby who was resting with his eyes closed, seemingly harboring some reservations. Finally, he spat sullenly and lay back down, muttering foul curses under his breath: "Damn it, poor and arrogant!"

Li Yuan finished laying out his straw mat and sat on the hard bed frame, his back against the cold wall, and closed his eyes.

The clamor of the outside world and the insults of the chubby youth seemed to be completely shut out.

His consciousness sank into his body.

Deep within his Sea of Qi, that "Crimson Sun" hung quietly, radiating constant light and heat. Within his meridians, the Crimson Sun Qi and Blood surged slowly, like an undercurrent.

The discrimination at the martial arts hall, the crudeness of his living quarters, the malice of his comrades... he had long since grown accustomed to these things.

He did not come here to make friends, nor did he come to enjoy himself.

He came for the Iron Body Technique, for a legitimate identity, and for... more resources and greater strength!

Feeling the undeniable sense of power within his body, the corners of Li Yuan's mouth curled into a cold arc in the shadows where no one could see.

Tomorrow, at the hour of the dragon, the Iron Body Technique.

He was looking forward to it.