Iron Mountain Skill

"Do you want me to teach you more characters in my spare time?"

Teacher Liu stroked his beard, his tone giving away neither joy nor displeasure.

"Yes, Teacher. I want to learn a certain number of characters in the shortest possible time—at least enough to read and write. This is my tuition fee," Zhong Lin said gravely.

Teacher Liu had been about to rebuke Zhong Lin, but the five-tael silver ingot on the table choked the words back down his throat.

Facts proved that money could solve ninety-nine percent of the world's problems. The remaining one percent was because there wasn't enough money.

"Seeing how eager you are to learn, I agree. You may come find me every afternoon."

"Yes."

With one casual sweep of the hand behind his back, serene as drifting clouds and a gentle breeze, Teacher Liu made the silver ingot on the table vanish.

While learning characters that morning, Zhong Lin discovered something: his max-level calligraphy skill gave him an unimaginable boost in character recognition.

The writing of this world resembled Chinese characters and was likewise pictographic. Max-level calligraphy allowed Zhong Lin to better analyze each character's strokes and structure. Understanding-based memorization was far, far faster than rote memorization. Forget ten characters a day—even a hundred would be no problem.

He also had plenty of time. Zhong Lin was merely a yamen sketch artist, not a constable. Other than answering roll call once every morning, he had nothing to do. In theory, he was supposed to remain at the yamen, but no one bothered with him. Zhong Lin took the opportunity to slack off and learn characters, though he could not keep this up forever. He had to finish learning characters in the shortest time possible.

"Brother Zhong, this is Old Zhou. He's one of the old hands at our yamen. Nearly every constable here has sought martial instruction from him. Even Head Xue has asked Old Zhou for guidance."

Chi Yan pointed at a gray-haired constable in black official garb and praised him.

Old Zhou looked to be in his fifties. His temples had long since turned white, yet his posture remained remarkably straight, and his eyes were sharp and spirited.

Though the Martial Pavilion had Martial Arts Manuals, if one simply buried their head in books, who knew when they would truly get on the right track? The best way was to find someone to teach them hand in hand.

So Zhong Lin had asked Chi Yan to help him find a teacher.

Old Zhou was the introductory instructor Chi Yan had recommended. He was also a constable at the County Yamen, though due to his age, he no longer did much chasing down criminals and instead handled various miscellaneous matters around the yamen.

"Though Old Zhou is only at the Martial Path Ninth Rank, the Skin Grinding realm, he has immersed himself in the Flying Crane Fist for many years. He is more than qualified to serve as your martial arts instructor."

Zhong Lin did not dare be negligent. He cupped his hands in salute. "Zhong Lin greets Old Zhou. A small gift, please accept it as a token of my respect."

Old Zhou waved his hand with a genial smile. "What Old Zhou? Just call me Old Zhou. We're all yamen men—just say the word if you need something. There's no need for gifts."

"Old Zhou, are you sure? Brother Zhong went specially to Hundred Delicacies Restaurant to get you twenty-year Drunken Flower Carving. This single jar cost five taels of silver," Chi Yan teased.

The moment the words fell, Old Zhou's gaze locked onto the wine jar in Zhong Lin's hands. His eyes gleamed, and he unconsciously swallowed.

"You've spent far too much, far too much. Then I won't stand on ceremony."

As he spoke, he snatched the wine jar from Zhong Lin's hand, cracked open the clay seal, and gently sniffed it. Then, with a blissful look on his face, he said, "It really is Hundred Delicacies Restaurant's Drunken Flower Carving. Good wine, good wine!"

"I'm glad you like it, Old Zhou."

"I told you not to call me Old Zhou. Just call me Old Zhou. Come, I'll feel your bones first."

"Feel my bones?"

Excitement appeared on Zhong Lin's face. Could he be one of those legendary martial geniuses?

One look at Zhong Lin's expression told Old Zhou what he was thinking. He laughed. "I'm feeling your bones, not testing your innate talent. I'm mainly checking your skeletal structure to see which martial art suits you."

With that, he took Zhong Lin's hand and felt his wrist bones, shoulders, hip bones, and the vertebrae along his back.

After a moment, he stopped and clicked his tongue in wonder. "Zhong Lin, your bones are truly good. Broad-backed and narrow-waisted, just the standard build. It's only that you ate poorly when you were younger and didn't develop properly. How old are you this year?"

"Fifteen. Almost sixteen."

"That's still fine. You can make up for it. Eat more meat in the future, and visit a medical hall to have a physician prescribe you some supplements. You'll grow taller by then—at the very least, six chi," Old Zhou said.

"Old Zhou, what kind of martial art do you think I'm suited to practice?" Zhong Lin asked.

Zhong Lin had just entered the Martial Pavilion. It contained thirteen Martial Arts Manuals, all complete, though each emphasized something different.

Sometimes, the strongest manual was not necessarily the best. What mattered was whether it suited the practitioner.

Old Zhou smiled. "Someone with your bones is best suited to solid, straightforward fist-and-leg techniques. The Iron Mountain Skill suits you best."

"Iron Mountain Skill? That was the martial art Head Xue practiced before too. With his pair of iron fists, he beat all of Black Mountain County without an equal. I never expected you to be suited to this art too, Brother Zhong," Chi Yan said in surprise.

Old Zhou nodded. "Light as brushing willow, deep as the wind; an old ape strides beneath the sun and braces my crown. This is a technique of immense force and heavy power, stressing that one strength can overcome ten thousand techniques. Zhong Lin, do you know how to read?"

"I know some, but not all. I'm currently learning characters from Teacher Liu south of the city," Zhong Lin said.

"Knowing characters is good. The manual contains many mnemonic verses. Once you can read them, memorize those verses well and ponder the mysteries within. As for now, you can start by practicing the forms. I studied this martial art for a time in my youth. Come, I'll teach you."

Old Zhou took off his clothes, revealing aged yet powerful muscles that did not lose out to those of a young man. He raised his arms into a stance, his feet treading the heavenly constellations.

"The purpose of practicing forms is to move the qi and blood within the body, allowing it to circulate faster. Only then can you temper the fleshly body. The lower three ranks of the Martial Path Ninth Rank all focus on body tempering. It is the same regardless of the martial art, though their points of emphasis differ. For example, my primary practice, the Flying Crane Fist, focuses on lightness, shifting movement, and footwork."

Old Zhou demonstrated with painstaking precision. Every move and stance flowed smoothly, progressing from simple to complex as the difficulty gradually increased. At first, there were only punches and kicks; later came demanding movements such as midair somersaults.

After roughly seven or eight minutes, Old Zhou finally finished the set and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I really am getting old!"

After Old Zhou regulated his breathing for a while and finally caught his breath, he began instructing Zhong Lin in the fist art.

At first, Zhong Lin's movements were extremely stiff and disjointed. He especially could not manage the difficult movements no matter how he tried.

Later, he could only imitate the cat while drawing the tiger, barely managing to perform the entire fist set once. Even so, a full two hours had already passed.

"Alright, we'll stop here for today. Time to go home."

Zhong Lin wiped the sweat from his forehead as well and cupped his hands. "Many thanks, Old Zhou."

Old Zhou waved his hand, picked up the wine jar, and strode away.

Chi Yan also rose from his chair. Before Zhong Lin could speak, he said, "Brother Zhong, do you have silver on you? Lend me three taels to tide me over."

Zhong Lin was startled, but he still took three taels of silver from his robes and handed them over.

"Thanks."