Fuhu Fist

Chen Mo lowered his gaze.

[Fuhu Fist: The fist holds a tiger's roar, its every move imbued with force]

[Comprehension: 0/50 (Not initiated)]

A simple description, yet it set Chen Mo's imagination running wild.

Once he entered the martial path, could he truly soar through the heavens and burrow beneath the earth?

He pondered to himself.

For ordinary people, their comprehension of martial arts techniques should be close to zero. According to Mountain and Water Cultivation, however, he could improve his comprehension of Fuhu Fist by honing crude iron.

The iron tools scattered throughout the Iron Furnace Room all contained crude iron. He could improve his comprehension without attracting anyone's attention.

Ten days.

He certainly wouldn't become strong enough to take on the Black Tiger Hall, but if he could show a gift for martial arts and be accepted by a martial arts school or taken under the wing of a martial master, he could get his tribute grain reduced.

After all, the Black Tiger Hall didn't want to offend others in the martial world, either.

The strong bullied the weak, while the weak feared the strong. That was the way of the world.

His thoughts returned to the present.

Chen Mo started the fire again, and the crude iron in the furnace slowly glowed red.

Everything was as usual, not the slightest bit unusual. It was no different from tending the fire and working as he did every day.

He remained patient. After all, those golden words that had appeared directly in his mind couldn't be ordinary. They weren't false!

An hour passed. Three iron billets had been heated in the furnace, but the comprehension of Fuhu Fist in Chen Mo's mind hadn't changed.

The two overseers returned from drinking, reeking of alcohol, and began cursing at random.

One of the overseers suddenly raised the leather whip in his hand and brought it down without warning on the back of a skinny man who had taken off his shirt. A scream rang out, and the man's skin split open.

All because he had set down the iron billet he was carrying to rest for a moment.

But he didn't fight back. He hoisted the hot billet onto his shoulders again and trudged onward, his whole skeleton seeming about to rattle apart.

The furnace room fell deathly silent. Everyone was anxious.

This time it was that skinny man. Who would be next?

This time it was a whip. What weapon would they use next?

That was the sorrow of the weak.

But Chen Mo had never dared slack off under the overseers' watchful eyes. Besides, tending the fire now was the same as honing his comprehension, so he was even less likely to neglect his work.

"Listen up! Anyone caught slacking again won't get off with just one lash. Next time, we'll break your fingers. After that, your legs. We might even take you for a live sacrifice!"

One of the overseers kept cursing as he walked over to Chen Mo. He raised his whip into the air but didn't bring it down.

Chen Mo kept tending the fire, watching the whip from the corner of his eye without stopping his hands.

Before long, the overseer grinned, put away his whip, and headed off to patrol elsewhere.

If someone with a weak constitution had been the target of a test like that, the moment they paused their work, the whip would have come down.

Another two hours passed. The tenth iron billet was more than halfway heated.

A flash of golden light suddenly flickered through Chen Mo's mind. He focused on it.

[Thousand Hammer Refinement, Mountain and Water Cultivation]

[Fuhu Fist: The fist holds a tiger's roar, its every move imbued with force]

[Comprehension: 1/50 (Not initiated)]

After three hours of enduring the work, his comprehension of Fuhu Fist had finally improved.

Chen Mo was pleased inwardly, but showed nothing.

Now, when he recalled the first move in the book, it was as though a fog had parted. Some of it was still hazy, but at least he wasn't completely in the dark anymore.

"Hey, young man, aren't you going to eat?" Master Wu asked from nearby.

Chen Mo pulled his thoughts back. "I'm not hungry yet. I wolfed down a hard steamed bun before leaving this morning, and I brought another one with me. I'm thinking about how to practice Fuhu Fist."

Master Wu nodded slightly. "Mm. You can't rush it. Plenty of people have stumbled at the very first step of learning a fist technique. An ordinary person shouldn't expect to see results in less than a year or two."

Master Wu left the furnace room. Everyone had a quarter of an hour to rest at noon, and they used the time to fill their empty stomachs.

Only a few people remained in the furnace room.

Chen Mo kept his head down and tended the fire.

All the while, he had to control the furnace temperature based on the state of the iron billets. That, too, counted as honing the crude iron.

He immersed himself in the process, sitting as still as an old monk in meditation.

Dusk descended like ink.

That evening, the others left one after another, but Chen Mo remained in the Iron Furnace Room. He not only tended the fire, but also placed the red-hot iron billets on the anvil and hammered them.

He thought hammering might be even closer to the idea of honing, and perhaps yield better results.

Who knew how long had passed when he felt a faint warmth in his abdomen, something he had never experienced before.

[Thousand Hammer Refinement, Mountain and Water Cultivation]

[Fuhu Fist: The fist holds a tiger's roar, its every move imbued with force]

[Comprehension: 6/50]

Chen Mo breathed out a puff of warm air.

He opened the book on Fuhu Fist and read it carefully. The key points of the moves that had baffled him before now made nearly a tenth more sense.

He had gained a basic grasp of Fuhu Fist, but it had to be put into practice. He needed to throw a few real punches.

In other words, honing through Mountain and Water Cultivation and practicing the fist technique were both essential.

He rolled up his sleeves and began throwing punches.

Fuhu Fist had eight forms, each with its own emphasis. According to the book, once a person mastered the seventh form, their punches would roar like a tiger.

Today, he would practice only the first form: Stone-Crushing Strike.

He followed the illustrations in the book and threw a punch. His movements were stiff, his muscles and bones tingled, and he was nowhere near the fluid posture shown in the illustrations, let alone its steady bearing.

If one try wasn't enough, then he'd try twice. If twice wasn't enough, then ten times, a hundred!

With Mountain and Water Cultivation, martial arts techniques posed no barrier to him. He was bound to succeed.

Proper martial arts were nothing like the wild, flailing punches he'd thrown as a child. Every move and every form had to be performed with intent.

Chen Mo turned what he had learned through [Thousand Hammer Refinement, Mountain and Water Cultivation] into the key points of each move. He made subtle adjustments each time, and the intent behind the moves gradually came to mind as the awkwardness faded.

Nearly two hours passed, and it was already deep into the night. Chen Mo could now perform the first move smoothly. The move wasn't precise, and his punches weren't particularly powerful, but at least they no longer felt awkward.

"Proper martial arts really are something else. They're far more intricate and precise than the way I used to exert myself at work. But right now, it's still all for show. I'll need to practice a few more times."

He murmured to himself.

Chen Mo left the furnace room, ending his training for the day, and headed home.

On the way, he couldn't help noticing that his whole body ached.

Halfway there, he saw a familiar figure standing in the distance.

"Big sister!"

Chen Mo immediately ran over.

It was Chen Lan. She wore thin clothes and stood in the cold wind, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Why are you so late today? I thought something had happened to you..." When Chen Lan saw Chen Mo, she wiped the corner of her eye, then smiled.

Chen Mo suddenly realized how careless he had been. Chen Lan had worried about his safety and gone out alone at night to look for him. The danger of that went without saying.

If he was going to be late again, he would make sure to tell his sister.

"I'm fine. The Iron Furnace Room has just been busier lately. Did you run into any bad people when you came out by yourself, sis?"

"I ran into Huang E..." Chen Lan said, still shaken.

"Did he give you trouble?" Chen Mo frowned.

"There were still people on the road, so he didn't lay a hand on me. He just threatened me again. He said that if we haven't paid all the tribute grain in nine days, he'll... come after you." Chen Lan's expression darkened.

Chen Mo breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, sis. I'll find a way."

Chen Lan nodded slightly, taking it as her younger brother trying to comfort her.

The two headed home. On the way, Chen Mo silently repeated Huang E's name in his mind. A flash of murderous intent crossed his face, then vanished.

He had a feeling that conditions in Black River Town had grown as bad as they could get. Sooner or later, he would have to face the Black Tiger Hall—either fight his way out in a river of blood or become one of the countless skeletons left behind.

Run away? Others had tried, but the surrounding area all belonged to the Black Tiger Hall. Those who tried to flee had their hands and feet broken at best; at worst, their bodies were left in the wilderness.

As for the dark cloud hanging over Black River Town, it all came down to who could lift it.