The stall owner slowly sat back down in his wooden chair. Before he had even closed his eyes, a uniform rhythm of footsteps came from the end of the street.
The footsteps were neither hurried nor disorderly, yet carried the steady composure forged through endless tempering. Each step seemed to land on the very tips of people's hearts. Before long, a group of figures dressed in matching martial outfits appeared in front of the stall.
Every one of them held his back straight like a fully drawn bow, their auras heavy and concentrated. At a glance, they were clearly seasoned martial practitioners who had weathered countless storms.
The man at the head stepped forward and raised a crisp, standard military salute. The stall owner said nothing. He merely brushed the dust from his trouser legs, stuffed the cloth pouch of loose copper coins into his arms, and quietly left with them.
It all happened without a sound, and Zhou Hang, who was just leaving the alley, noticed none of it.
Clutching the old book he had picked up from the secondhand stall, Zhou Hang practically flew home. After entering, he did not even have time to change his shoes,
and eagerly pulled the book from his arms. He spread it out on the table and immediately began cultivating according to its instructions.
He patiently followed the illustrations, slowly correcting each movement one by one, repeating them again and again.
No one knew how long he practiced. Suddenly, a warm current slowly welled up from his lower abdomen, then wandered through his limbs and bones toward every part of his body.
The fatigue that had accumulated over several days, leaving his bones stiff with exhaustion, seemed to be pushed along by the warm current. It dispersed bit by bit through his