Yang Ning

Great Yue Dynasty, outside the city of Kuishan, Nanning Prefecture.

In the afternoon, the sun was so scorching it seemed to bake a layer of shimmering haze off the stone-paved road.

By the time Yang Ning pulled his empty cart back to the porter guild's gathering point, his undershirt was already soaked through, clinging to his lean back.

"Back already, Ning?"

Old Wu, the guild manager, poked half his body out from the shade, a ledger in his hand.

Yang Ning nodded and fished a pouch of copper coins from his waist, handing it over.

"Uncle Wu, today's commission."

Old Wu took the money, counted it coin by coin, and made a mark in the ledger before finally looking up to size Yang Ning up.

"How many trips today?"

"Four trips of grain, three trips of sundries."

Yang Ning wiped the sweat from his forehead and pushed his cart against the wall to rack it.

The polished, shiny spots on the cart handles were the result of him wearing them down inch by inch over the past year.

"Hmm, just like your father—still diligent."

Old Wu offered a rare word of praise, then lowered his voice.

"Manager Chen on the south side of East Third Street has a shipment of porcelain to move tomorrow. It's light work; should I save it for you?"

Yang Ning felt a warmth in his chest and pulled a few copper coins from his pocket to tuck into the old man's tunic.

"Many thanks, Uncle Wu."

Old Wu waved his hand, signaling that he could go.

Yang Ning didn't leave immediately, however, but turned his gaze toward the center of the guild courtyard, where a patch of ground had been trampled hard and flat.

Seven or eight men in grey cloth tunics were standing in horse stances, arms held level, motionless.

Sweat rolled down their temples, striking the earth to form dark, circular spots.

Standing at the front to instruct them was Zhao Tie, the guild's martial arts teacher, a man with a hulking frame and muscles coiled like knotted ropes.

If a guild wanted to establish a foothold in these chaotic times, practicing martial arts was essential.

"Sink your waist! Keep your breathing even!

The essence of the Rock Stance Technique is 'stability'!

Only by being 'stable' now can you be 'agile' later.

You pups, don't aim too high too soon.

Only when your stance is perfected can your blood and qi become active.

Only by activating your blood and qi can you step onto the path of a martial artist."

Zhao Tie's voice was resonant, echoing throughout the courtyard.

Yang Ning quietly moved to the stone mill in the corner, wiping the sweat from his face with a rag while keeping his eyes glued to the men's movements.

His gaze was fixed particularly on Zhao Tie's feet.

He wanted to see how the toes gripped the ground, how the center of gravity was distributed, the angle of the bent knees...

For the past month, every afternoon after returning his cart, he had been "stealing the craft" right here.

After watching for a while, Yang Ning began to imitate them involuntarily.

He spread his feet to shoulder-width, bent his knees slightly, and held his hands in a hollow embrace before his abdomen.

His movements might not have been as standard as those of the guild disciples, but they possessed a steady, grounded strength of their own.

"Ho, Ning-ge is practicing again?"

A familiar laugh came from nearby.

Yang Ning didn't need to turn around to know it was his fellow porter, Old Li.

Old Li was five years his senior and had been working at the guild for eight years; he was known for having a loose tongue.

"Better than doing nothing."

Yang Ning maintained his stance and replied softly.

Old Li squatted on the stone mill, chewing on a blade of grass.

"Look at you, working yourself half to death pulling carts every day, only to come here and play with these fancy poses.

What could you possibly gain from it? You don't even have a master to teach you."

A few other porters who had just finished their shifts gathered around as well.

"Exactly, Ning-ge, save your energy. You've still got work to do tomorrow."

"If you really want to learn martial arts, you'd be better off saving some money and finding a proper master."

Yang Ning just smiled, offering no defense.

His breathing gradually steadied; although his legs had begun to tremble slightly, he persisted.

It had been a year. From only being able to hold the stance for half an incense stick's time at the start, to now being able to stand firmly for a full incense stick's time, only he knew the changes that had taken place within.

Zhao Tie glanced over in this direction, his brows furrowing slightly, yet he said nothing.

The guild had strict rules, and their stance techniques were not to be taught to outsiders.

But Yang Ning was considered a familiar face, and his father had been a veteran of the porter guild.

Besides, he was only watching and imitating from afar; without the secret medicinal baths and techniques used within the guild, this was just an empty shell—he wouldn't be able to learn anything of substance.

He decided not to concern himself with it.

After another incense stick's time had passed, the guild disciples finished their practice and dispersed in twos and threes.

Zhao Tie was the last to leave, and as he passed by Yang Ning, his footsteps paused.

"Clench your toes tighter."

Leaving behind these words, he strode away.

Yang Ning was stunned, then immediately adjusted his posture as instructed, and sure enough, he felt his base become much steadier.

He felt a surge of gratitude in his heart and nodded slightly toward Zhao Tie's retreating back.

Once the courtyard was empty, Yang Ning slowly withdrew from his stance.

After the session of the stance technique, sweat had soaked through another layer of his clothes, but strangely, his sense of fatigue had lessened significantly.

He brushed the dust off his body and headed toward home.

The outer city of Kuishan County was divided into four districts—East, West, South, and North—and the Yang family lived in a block on the dilapidated East Third Street.

The area was inhabited by craftsmen, peddlers, and laborers; the streets were narrow and the houses low.

Just as he turned a street corner, seeing that no one was around, Yang Ning's thoughts stirred. Suddenly, several translucent lines of text appeared in his field of vision, hovering in the air where only he could see them:

[Yang Ning]

[Realm: None]

[Destiny System: Fated Martial Saint, Heaven Rewards Diligence]

[Martial Arts: Rock Stance Technique (97/100 Not Yet Initiated)]

Looking at the experience bar that was about to overflow, the corners of Yang Ning's mouth couldn't help but curl upward.

In a few more days, with just three more practice sessions, this Rock Stance Technique would reach the initiation level.

Having arrived in this world for exactly one year, he was finally about to take his first step.

Yes, Yang Ning was not a person of this world.

A year ago, he had been an ordinary office worker in modern society. Due to a sudden car accident, when he opened his eyes again, he had become this twenty-year-old porter youth.

When Yang Ning was young, both his parents had passed away from illness.

It was his older brother and sister-in-law who had raised him through hardship.

For so many years, they had kept Yang Ning in this home; while they weren't wealthy, they had clothes to wear in the cold and food to eat when hungry, and their life was considered stable.

Following his rebirth came this mysterious cheat.

At first, Yang Ning thought it was a hallucination caused by a brain injury.

But as time passed, he gradually figured out the rules of this "Destiny System":

As long as he practiced a martial art, he would accumulate experience, and it would always progress in the most correct direction without any bottlenecks—as long as he put in the effort, there would be a reward.

On the first day he saw the guild disciples practicing at the porter station, he tried to imitate them a few times, and the system interface displayed the experience bar for [Rock Stance Technique].

Even without guidance, he could gain experience through observation and self-adjustment.

But while "Heaven Rewards Diligence" was clear, he still hadn't figured out the so-called "Fated Martial Saint" part.

Thinking of this, Yang Ning's pace quickened.

After turning two streets, a row of low, earthen-walled houses appeared in the corner of East Third Street.

The one at the very end, with a faded blue cloth curtain hanging over the doorway, was the Yang residence.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, a familiar scent of medicinal herbs wafted toward him.

In the main room, his sister-in-law Liu Ying was sitting on a small stool mending clothes, while his six-year-old niece Xiao Hua was lying on the floor playing with a few polished stones.

"Little Uncle is back!"

Xiao Hua's eyes lit up, and she pounced over.

Yang Ning smiled, picked her up, and spun her around, then pulled two pieces of malt candy wrapped in oil paper from his pocket:

"Here, I bought these on the way."

Xiao Hua cheered and took the candy, but she ran to her mother first:

"Mom, candy!"

Liu Ying looked up, revealing a delicate face that bore traces of weariness.

She was only twenty-eight this year, yet fine lines had already appeared at the corners of her eyes. Seeing Yang Ning, she forced a faint smile:

"You're back? There's still hot food in the pot."

Yang Ning set Xiao Hua down, noticing the cloud of worry between his sister-in-law's brows:

"Sister-in-law, still no news of Brother?"

The needlework in Liu Ying's hands paused, and she shook her head gently:

"It has been a month and three days."

Yang Ning's heart sank. His elder brother, Yang An, was a medicinal herb gatherer who often ventured deep into the mountains of the Southern Frontier in search of rare herbs.

This profession was dangerous, but the rewards were high.

Usually, Yang An would be away from home for at most half a month, but this time, there had been no word for a full month.

"Could it be that he found some good herbs in the mountains and got delayed?"

Yang Ning tried to offer some comfort.

"Your brother is not someone who doesn't know the weight of things."

Liu Ying set down her needlework, her voice trembling slightly:

"Even if he were delayed by something, he would have entrusted someone to bring a message back.

I have been feeling uneasy these past few days, and I haven't been able to sleep soundly at night."

The atmosphere in the main room grew heavy.

Xiao Hua seemed to sense her mother's anxiety, sitting obediently to the side, licking her candy in small bites.

Just as Yang Ning was about to say something, a series of stumbling footsteps suddenly came from outside the door, followed by a weak knock.

"Ying... Brother Ning... open the door..."

The voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable, but Yang Ning and Liu Ying stood up at the same time!

That was Yang An's voice!

Yang Ning had practiced his stance training, and his speed was lightning-fast; he practically lunged to the door and yanked the latch open.

Outside the door, a man covered in filth and dressed in rags leaned against the doorframe, barely able to stand.

"Husband!"

Liu Ying cried out from the side and hurried to support him.