Money and Silver

Late at night, Lin Yin glanced at his sleeping mother and quietly left the house.

Moonlight Like Frost blanketed the empty streets paved with brick and stone.

Even near Fist Manor, few seemed willing to venture out at this hour.

Lin Yin wore a Black Robe, wrapping his figure—even his face—tightly concealed.

Third Uncle Lin De's words from the day still echoed in his mind. Though he didn't know what conditions entering Fist Manor required, he needed to prepare some money regardless.

He wouldn't touch the Five Taels of Silver his old mother had scraped together; that was for the cloth shop's livelihood. With that money, she'd have some security.

He darted swiftly through the alleys, soon reaching the outskirts of Langshi Town. Compared to the quiet peace within the town, the villages beyond seethed with undercurrents.

At the foot of Tiger Head Mountain, in a secluded patch of woods.

Lin Yin crouched low in the bushes, one hand clutching a Black Cloth Bag, a bow and crossbow wrapped in Linen Cloth strapped to his back.

This was the gear he'd hidden after taking out Li Sihhu.

But after retrieving it, he didn't rush home. Peering through the sparse leaves, he could see figures racing past in the distance.

Blades and Shadows, shouts and killing cries—within moments, the commotion vanished into the vast dark night.

Lin Yin didn't know what had happened, but staring at the eerily silent woods ahead, a chill ran through him.

This world was getting more chaotic by the day.

Confirming nothing was nearby, he bolted.

Even the thought of practicing his Stance Skill in the mountain woods was abandoned.

Back home, he lit a candle and eagerly spread open the Black Cloth Bag.

This was what he'd found on Li Sihhu.

The cloth parted to reveal gleaming silver, instantly catching Lin Yin's eye.

"Hiss... this... this must be over thirty taels, right?"

His eyes went wide. He'd known Li Sihhu might be well-off, but he hadn't expected the bastard to carry this much on him.

An ordinary farmer's family might not earn Five Taels of Silver in a whole year. And thirty taels?

How many families had been ruined for this?

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Lin Yin's eyes.

Li Sihhu had bullied men and women, exploited his neighbors, and caroused with his lackeys. This money was probably just a fraction of his ill-gotten gains.

"Guess I'm ridding the people of a scourge, robbing the rich to help the poor."

Suppressing the lingering unease from the killing, Lin Yin stashed the money with a clear conscience.

Besides the silver, there was one more item. Lin Yin stared blankly—a Humanoid Withered Vine, its yellowish-brown skin covered in wrinkles.

It looked a bit like ginseng, but also like the common vines in the village.

He brought it close and sniffed; a strong earthy smell hit his nose.

"What is this?" He frowned.

Neither his past life nor his original memories held any clue about this thing.

"I'll put it away for now..."

With no ideas, he stored it and glanced at the Black Cloth Bag on the table, then tossed it into the nearby Brazier.

The leaping flames cast flickering light and shadow across Lin Yin's face.

Though the Li Sihhu matter was settled, a deep sense of crisis still gnawed at him—especially after that encounter last time.

For the first time, Lin Yin felt a suffocating pressure.

"Joining Fist Manor is a must."

Over the next two days, Lin Yin was out by day and back by night.

Compared to the night, Langshi Town was relatively peaceful during the day. In that time, he quietly gathered news about the Black Scorpion Gang.

From the Stalls and Vendors, most of what he heard was rumors, but some information brought unexpected gains.

"The Yamen moved against the Black Gang? Old Man Li, you're not just messing with me, are you?"

Lin Yin put on a face of "shock" as he looked at the stall owner.

"You brat, if you weren't a regular customer, I wouldn't even tell you this. My son saw it with his own eyes... That guy wasn't a big shot in the Black Scorpion Gang, but he was a minor leader."

"Old Man Li, the Black Scorpion Gang is so vicious and brutal—how dare the Yamen arrest them?"

Lin Yin wore a look of "disbelief."

"Heh... why would I lie to you? Word is, the Black Scorpion Gang got too cocky, and the Yamen couldn't take it anymore."

With that, Old Man Li slammed his Butcher Knife onto the wooden board with a bang, leaned in, and lowered his voice.

"You don't know? The Black Scorpion Gang's massacre of the hunters has come to light!"

"The Black Scorpion Gang... ambushing and killing hunters?"

Lin Yin's heart trembled slightly.

He thought back to the scene he had witnessed earlier—the hunter had clearly said "Hungry Wolf Gang," so how had it turned into the Black Scorpion Gang?

"Sigh, quite a few people died in that village to the east. Now the hunters are banding together. These times..."

Old Man Li, the pork vendor, shook his head with a wary expression, unwilling to say more.

Lin Yin's expression was unreadable, and he could only hurry away.

Though he didn't know the ins and outs of the matter, he knew the truth couldn't be as simple as Old Man Li made it sound.

The waters were too deep; better not to get involved.

Burying the matter deep in his heart, Lin Yin went back and forth at the market, bought some meat, and then began practicing in the small backyard of his own hut.

Calling it a backyard was generous—it was barely the size of a palm, looking especially shabby compared to the courtyard next door.

With a calm expression, Lin Yin picked up a stone stake beside him. Its weight, enough to make an adult flinch, was steadily held in his hands.

Bending his front leg and planting his back foot, he resumed practicing the Vajra Stake Technique, his movements no longer as clumsy as before.

Even the heavy stone stake was steadily lifted and balanced between his hands.

Time trickled by, drop by drop. As he executed several slow, heavy sets of movements, he set down the stone stake, and the dull sound of fists and feet swinging echoed through the courtyard.

A full hour or more passed.

[Heaven rewards diligence, will achieve something]

[Vajra Stake Technique: Beginner (80/100)]

A flash of information streamed through his mind, and a faint, barely perceptible warmth spread toward his limbs and torso. Clearly, Lin Yin's martial arts had reached a new level.

Without any pause, he continued practicing.

As his proficiency with the Vajra Stake Technique grew higher and higher, Lin Yin faintly felt his own changes becoming more and more apparent. That elusive, mysterious force seemed to grow clearer as well.

Beside the shabby little courtyard stood one nearly ten times larger than Lin Yin's home.

The courtyard was lush with flowers and clusters of blooms. On a stone table at one side sat a pot of steaming tea.

The tea gave off curling wisps of vapor. The middle-aged man sitting by the stone table, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them. His expression froze slightly as he instinctively looked to the side.

The tall wall seemed to stand in stark contrast to the dilapidated neighboring yard. The sound of fists and feet whistling from next door had caught his attention.

"Father, you heard it too."

Just then, the door to the left side room in the courtyard suddenly opened, and a girl in a white dress poked her head out.

Her gaze was curious as she sized up the tall wall, as if she could see through it to the man practicing his martial arts on the other side. The whooshing sounds of his fists and feet were far from quiet.

"His Qi and Blood are full, his foundation is solid. It seems we have a promising seedling next door."

"Could he be a new junior brother at the training hall..."

The girl asked curiously.

"No, most of them have just begun staking practice and don't have this level of skill yet. As for your senior brothers, at the very least they're Ming Jin Martial Artists. Their fists and feet roar like tigers and thunder—how could they sound like this?"

The middle-aged man shook his head with a smile, picked up the steaming pot of tea from the table, and continued sipping, as if the commotion was nothing more than a trivial interlude.

If you can't find the book by its title, try searching by the author's name—maybe it's just been renamed!