Discuss Together

Han Che withdrew his hand, his expression still calm. "Young Master Feng's fist force is fierce and rigid, his techniques straightforward without variation, lacking in adaptability. Moreover, he exerts full force with every strike, leaving nothing in reserve." He shook his head.

He looked at Feng Xiu and, for once, spoke a few extra words. "Killing isn't the same as practicing boxing. When you train, you can aim to put every ounce of strength into each punch, but killing doesn't work that way. If you swing and miss, you leave an opening for your opponent."

Feng Xiu seemed lost in thought.

"And another thing," Han Che said, pointing at his own eyes. "Your gaze. Before you throw a punch, your eyes move first. Anyone can tell where you're aiming."

Feng Xiu's expression turned serious. He understood that the other man was teaching him in the most direct way possible.

So he didn't rush to attack. He held his stance steady, carefully observing Han Che's movements.

When they clashed again, Feng Xiu broke down and adapted the Five Force Fist techniques, sometimes using the first form, sometimes the ninth, while also paying attention to the interplay of solid and feinting footwork.

Despite Feng Xiu's adjustments, the sparring that followed remained a one-sided beating for him.

Han Che's Five Force Fist was extremely refined. Fists, palms, fingers, legs—he always managed to weave in various small moves during the gaps between Feng Xiu's technique transitions.

Between martial artists, life-and-death combat often hinged on a single instant.

Eye pokes, groin strikes, heart blows—he targeted nothing but vital points.

At the same time, the more they fought, the more Feng Xiu could sense the faint Sha Qi emanating from Han Che.

It forced him to dodge and block in all kinds of awkward postures, his rhythm completely shattered, draining his mental energy heavily.

Half an incense stick later, Feng Xiu was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, his arms sore and swollen.

Han Che's external skill was too formidable—like he was forged from solid iron.

In contrast, Han Che's breathing remained steady, as if he'd only done a warm-up.

"That's enough." Uncle Zheng spoke at the right moment.

Feng Xiu immediately stopped, relieved inside. He looked at Han Che, whose breathing was calm as if nothing had happened, and clasped his fists solemnly.

"Thank you for the guidance, Brother Han. Today's battle has been immensely enlightening."

Han Che returned the gesture. "Young Master Feng has excellent comprehension. You're too kind."

With that, he gave Uncle Zheng a slight nod and silently withdrew from the courtyard.

The yard fell quiet. Feng Xiu stood still, silently replaying the details of the sparring session in his mind, then spoke.

"Uncle Zheng, starting tomorrow, have him follow me. Monthly pay set at two taels for now. I'll talk to Uncle Zhou."

He had thought he'd made some small progress on the martial path, but Han Che's appearance had completely shattered that illusion.

Feeling the power gradually returning to his body, Feng Xiu clenched his fist and took a deep breath.

Still need to train.

As dusk fell and Uncle Zheng left, Feng Xiu headed to the training hall.

Martial arts combined cultivation and practice. The Five Force Fist was progressing quickly, but the Eight Sections Vajra Skill couldn't be neglected either.

Moreover, Feng Xiu had noticed something: doing two sets of the Vajra Skill before each medicinal bath helped him absorb the medicine's power more effectively.

Inside the training hall, the air was hot and stagnant. Dozens of sandbags of various sizes hung in the corners, along with a row of wooden dummies.

Feng Xiu stripped off his clothes, revealing an upper body with faint muscle definition. He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and cleared his thoughts of distractions.

His breathing gradually deepened, his awareness sinking downward.

In his chest, a faint current of warmth rose and fell with each breath.

Feng Xiu silently recited the key points in his mind, and his body moved accordingly.

He began with the opening fist salute.

His movements remained steady. The moment he started, a wave of warmth extended to his forearm, and his fist speed suddenly increased by half a beat.

A sharper-than-usual sound of air being split rang out.

Feng Xiu's spirits lifted. His fist followed his intent as he continued to the second and third forms.

He no longer sought to finish the sequence quickly. Instead, he matched each form with a unique breathing rhythm, trying to channel his qi and blood to the parts of his body that needed the most force for each technique.

Pushing Mountains into the Sea—his breath sank. Weary Tiger Returns to the Forest—his breath drew inward.

The hot current of qi and blood contracted, then burst forth violently. Where his fist struck, a hanging sandbag swung high into the air.

Sweat poured from Feng Xiu like rain. As he breathed and moved his qi and blood, he felt a blazing fire burning in his chest.

Circulating, expending, repeating.

Not only did his strength not run dry, but his fist techniques were further refined—more solid, cleaner, and sharper.

"Hoo~"

Feng Xiu exhaled a breath like an arrow. Gathering the accumulated momentum of the first fifteen forms, driven by a deep, full-powered breath, he punched toward a hardwood dummy wrapped in thick cowhide on his side.

"Thud!"

A dull sound. Unlike the usual vibration of wood, the thick cowhide at the point of impact showed a clear, sunken fist imprint.

And Feng Xiu's knuckles were only slightly red, with no sharp pain.

He withdrew his fist and slowly regulated his breath. A wave of exhilarating satisfaction surged through his entire body.

Feeling the surging blood and qi beneath his skin, the frustration that had weighed on his heart after Han Che's blow was shattered into pieces in that instant of release.

"This is power—the martial power that transforms the external and refines the inner spirit!" Feng Xiu realized inwardly, his eyes gleaming with sharp light.

In just a few short days, he had gone from a pampered rich young master with no strength to truss a chicken to a martial artist whose punches carried force.

This kind of visible, tangible growth was far more intense than fumbling through family affairs.

Earlier, after suspecting that there might be a water monster in Tang Reservoir, his heart had been panicked—extremely panicked!

But now, he actually felt a hint of contempt, as if water demons and monsters were nothing much.

"Hu~"

Outside the window, the sky had darkened.

Inside the training room, Feng Xiu's gaze burned bright, with no trace of fatigue.

After slowly finishing his practice, he wiped away the sweat and changed into dry clothes.

Uncle Zheng had already ordered the servants to prepare a meal. Back in his bedchamber, the table was laid with all sorts of delicacies: deer blood soup, tiger bone tonic, and other nourishing dishes.

Feng Xiu picked up his chopsticks and wolfed everything down, even swallowing some of the smaller bones.

The essence and qi from the external nourishment spread through his limbs and bones as a feeling of fullness. He left not a single bite of the entire table.

After letting out a comfortable burp, he proceeded with his daily Five-Strength Medicinal Bath.

Stepping into the tub, the scalding medicinal power instantly seeped through his pores, rapidly easing the subtle muscle soreness from his fist practice.

After who knows how long, the water gradually cooled.

Feng Xiu opened his eyes, stood up, dried himself, and changed into loose sleepwear.

By now, the night was deep, and all sounds had fallen silent.

Feng Xiu opened the window, faced the cool, fresh air, and naturally assumed the starting posture of the Eight Sections Vajra Skill.

Slowly guiding his inner blood and qi, he flowed through the set of movements with effortless grace, his breaths deep and long.

After finishing one round of the Vajra Skill, Feng Xiu felt refreshed and clear-headed. His mind empty of all thoughts, he fell straight into bed and slept.

June fourth. The weather grew increasingly stifling and hot.

For some reason, news that the River Law Bureau had suspended the water source from Tang Reservoir still managed to leak out in the city. In an instant, the common folk were thrown into panic.

All kinds of prices skyrocketed, especially grain.

Upon receiving the news, Feng Xiu pondered for a moment, then decisively ordered, "Uncle Zheng, pass the word: all grain shops under the Feng Clan are to limit sales starting today. Sell only until the daily stock runs out, and never open the granaries again."

After weighing the matter carefully, and out of caution regarding the Tang Reservoir affair, Feng Xiu did not rashly raise prices.

The current atmosphere, public opinion, and the inaction of both the Grain Constitution Bureau and the River Law Bureau were already highly abnormal.

Any blind following of trends or profiteering could easily make him a target at the center of the storm.

He had a relatively bold guess in mind, but as for the specifics, he would need to investigate thoroughly.

"Uncle Zheng, also send out two visiting cards in my name."

Feng Xiu tapped lightly on the desk with his fingertip. "One for Fan Ling, the eldest son of the Fan Family, and one for Lin Che, the eldest son of the Lin Family. Say that the recent unusual weather has me worried about the crops, and invite them to my residence for a discussion on how to handle the situation."

Uncle Zheng understood and withdrew to carry out the orders.

After he left, Feng Xiu did not rise. Instead, he continued to think about how to persuade the two to stand on the same side as him.

The Fan and Lin families were both major grain merchants in Green Rock City, with even more farmland than the Feng Clan.

No rain fell from the sky, and the Tang Reservoir remained closed.

He had expected someone to make the first move, but every family in the city was more patient than the last.

The ten-day deadline was almost up, and he dared not place his hopes on some old Daoist priest who might or might not hold a ritual.

In the reception hall, Feng Xiu sat in the acting patriarch's seat, his thoughts churning as he tapped his index finger rhythmically on the armrest, his mind racing with connections.

"Is it a water monster in the Tang Reservoir, or some kind of special fish?"

Ever since his visit to the reservoir, the speculation about a water monster had lingered in his mind, impossible to shake.

And in his clear memories, there had never been any rumors of "sacrifices" or "water monsters."

If something truly lurked beneath the water, and even a family holding a River Law Seal was unaware, then the other families surely knew nothing either.

"Is it a political factor, or a problem with the construction quality? Either way, I need to get to the bottom of it."