Tianqing Martial Hall

The next morning, before the dawn stars had faded and the roosters had crowed.

Chen Mo rose early. Just as he pulled back the tattered curtain, he saw his sister gently closing the door. Even though she was careful not to make a sound, the broken door panel still let out a long, drawn-out creak.

Chen Lan was heading out to do odd jobs again.

Chen Mo saw a bowl of thin porridge on the table, with a small dish of pickled vegetable stems beside it. He knew his sister hadn't eaten a bite, leaving it all for him.

The porridge was so thin the bottom of the bowl was visible, and the pickled vegetables were crusted with salt, yet this was the best food they had.

Chen Mo gulped down two mouthfuls of porridge, pinched a piece of pickled vegetable stem into his mouth, and wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand.

After finishing the meal, he headed out, leaving the rest for Chen Lan to have as dinner.

Arriving at the Iron Furnace Room, Chen Mo practiced his punches a few times before starting to stoke the furnace to heat the iron; the charcoal crackled and popped within the hearth.

Half an hour later, the Crude Iron glowed a rosy red. He immediately pulled it out, placed it on the anvil, and raised his hammer to forge it.

He had learned some manual skills from Master Wu previously—forging, quenching, he knew a bit of everything, though he wasn't proficient.

Throughout the day, Chen Mo did nothing but heat and forge iron. When Zhang Cai asked him why he was working so hard, he only replied:

"Learn more and do more; it's a skill to rely on for a living in the future."

Zhang Cai nodded in sudden realization.

Late at night.

[Thousand Hammer Refinement, Mountain and Water Cultivation]

[Fuhu Fist: The punch contains the roar of a tiger and carries an imposing momentum]

[Comprehension: 13/50 (Not yet initiated)]

Today, he had raised his Comprehension of Fuhu Fist by seven points. Compared to yesterday, the hazy feeling regarding the first move had dissipated a little more—not just in the simple punching motion, but in how to exert force to make the stance more stable.

Power originates from the waist and gathers in the arms.

At this rate, if another half-month passed, he might be able to digest a small portion of the Fuhu Fist manual.

But the path of learning often becomes more difficult the further one goes. He figured that even with the ability to polish his martial arts Comprehension, he still had to follow basic principles.

The most critical thing was that he didn't have much time left.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask Master Wu which martial hall is more lenient with their intake."

Chen Mo muttered to himself.

Returning home, under Chen Lan's insistence, he ate a bit more porridge and pickled vegetables. Then, Chen Lan suddenly said:

"Xiao Mo, if we really can't scrape together enough money, I... I can do some other things..."

At the end of her sentence, a trace of struggle appeared on her face, though she tried her best to hide it.

Black River Town had no shortage of gray areas where those with no other options could make quick money, but some people fell into the abyss because of it.

Chen Mo's eyes felt a little hot. "Sister, you've already done enough for me. You need to consider yourself, too."

He wouldn't say anything sentimental, but Chen Lan had given him everything without reservation; he saw it in his eyes and kept it in his heart.

As for his plan to join a martial hall to learn martial arts, he couldn't give a definite promise right now.

"Sister, things will get better. Go to sleep early."

Chen Mo pulled back the curtain and stepped into his own narrow "room"—not to sleep, but to practice his punches!

The moves of the first form of Fuhu Fist surfaced in his mind. He threw punches rapidly, braced his stance, and punched again. Behind the curtain, the faint sound of wind being broken could be heard...

The next day.

Chen Mo was the first to arrive at the Iron Furnace Room again. He lit the furnace, and the chill was immediately driven back. He practiced his punches as a routine, then began to polish his Comprehension of Fuhu Fist.

At noon, the sun was high in the sky.

Chen Mo found Master Wu and handed over a paper parcel. Inside was a roasted chicken he had bought that morning for five copper coins. The chicken fat had already soaked through the paper, emitting a mouth-watering aroma.

"Uncle Wu, this is for you. Thank you for letting me borrow the Fuhu Fist manual to study."

Master Wu was slightly startled. He took the roasted chicken, his tone turning somewhat reproachful. "You two siblings are already living on a tight budget; why spend money on this..."

"Wait, what did you just say?" Master Wu realized what he meant. "It's only been three days. What is there for you to thank me for? Wait until half a year passes—if you actually manage to learn a move or two, then it won't be too late to thank me!"

"Well..." Chen Mo smoothed out his words:

"I've been studying the first form of Fuhu Fist for the past two days and have had some insights. I wanted to ask you which martial hall in town is more lenient with their intake. If I really am cut out for this, I want to prepare early."

Master Wu straightened his expression. "You already have insights? Tell me about them."

Chen Mo recounted the insights he had gained over the past two days, seven parts true and three parts false, intentionally mixing in some incorrect details and essentials.

After all, living in troubled times, one should never reveal their true hand to outsiders, no matter the situation.

After listening, Master Wu's cloudy, aged eyes suddenly became somewhat clear.

"It took me a full four and a half months to reach your level back then. There aren't many martial halls in town, only two. Panshi Martial Hall looks at family background, and the cost of learning there is quite high, which doesn't suit you. Tianqing Martial Hall focuses more on talent and doesn't require tuition fees. You should go try your luck there."

Chen Mo gave a look of gratitude. "Thank you, Uncle Wu."

He had heard of these two martial halls but knew nothing of the inner workings; Master Wu, a man who had navigated Black River Town for fifty years, could certainly help him avoid unnecessary detours.

Five more sunrises and sunsets passed.

Dusk gathered on this day.

[Thousand Hammer Refinement, Mountain and Water Cultivation]

[Fuhu Fist: The fist carries a tiger's roar, containing inner might]

[Comprehension: 37/50]

Chen Mo suddenly unleashed the first form of Stone-Crushing Strike; the sound of breaking wind was now remarkably distinct. From gathering force in his entire arm to now focusing it at a single point, the fist technique was beginning to take shape.

He also began to grasp the second form, Wave-Intercepting Style.

Chen Mo walked out of the Iron Furnace Room and headed quickly toward Tianqing Martial Hall in the south of town; success or failure would be decided here.

As for why he had delayed until today, it was naturally because the more he comprehended, the more confident he felt.

Passing through a dilapidated alley, he saw the backs of Huang E and another lackey from Black Tiger Hall.

He only glanced into the alley once.

He saw a thin man with his hands bound by thick rope, being dragged along the ground by Huang E.

Chen Mo did not stop for even a second and quickened his pace.

He knew that someone else was being dragged off to be a living sacrifice; things like this happened every single day.

From behind him, a frail, elderly voice drifted over: "Let my son go, my son... you heaven-forsaken wretches..."

This was immediately followed by the sound of a violent kick, the frail voice cut off abruptly, along with the man's heart-wrenching cries for his mother.

Then came Huang E's uninhibited, boorish voice:

"Handle this one, there are a few more to go, especially that pair of siblings from the Chen family. We'll deal with the brat tomorrow, and as for the girl, she's actually got a bit of charm..."

Chen Mo clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh, while the cold wind whistled past his ears like a ghostly shriek.

Before long, Chen Mo arrived in front of Tianqing Martial Hall, where the sounds of striking wooden posts echoed from within.

He knocked on the door, and a young girl around his age opened it. "Who are you looking for?"

"I wish to join your martial hall," Chen Mo said, bowing and speaking with a serious expression.

The girl looked him up and down. Seeing his thin frame, her youthful nature took over; the interest immediately vanished from her face, and she simply shouted toward the interior:

"Dad, someone is here to join the hall."

Having said that, she led Chen Mo through the main gate and turned to walk into the inner hall, leaving him standing alone in the courtyard.

Chen Mo waited in the courtyard for a moment before seeing a middle-aged martial artist dressed in practical attire walking steadily toward him, his gaze sharp as lightning as it landed on Chen Mo.

"What is your name, and where do you live?"

Chen Mo reported truthfully: "This junior is Chen Mo, living in Withered Well Alley in Black River Town, not far from here."

The martial artist was the master of Tianqing Martial Hall. He reached out to press on Chen Mo's shoulder bones, then slid his hand down; in less than a few breaths, he withdrew his hand into his sleeve.

"To judge a martial artist's foundation, one must first observe the frame, then measure the bone structure. You are extremely lacking in both. Although my hall does not charge tuition, looking at your constitution, you should go back and train your strength for another two years."

Hearing this, Chen Mo could not hide a trace of disappointment on his face, but his body did not move, and a flicker of determination flashed in the depths of his eyes.

"This junior has self-taught a set of fist techniques and feels my comprehension is decent. I ask that you test me, Senior."

His voice was resolute, piercing the night sky.