Joining Forces

Han Che withdrew his hand, his expression still calm. "Young Master Feng, your punches are powerful and forceful, but your moves are too direct and lack variation. You put your full strength into every strike, leaving nothing in reserve." He shook his head.

Looking at Feng Xiu, he said a little more than usual. "Killing people isn't the same as practicing martial arts. When you train, you can strive to put every ounce of strength into your strikes. But you can't do that in a fight to the death. If you miss, you've given your opponent an opening."

Feng Xiu seemed to be pondering his words.

"One more thing." Han Che pointed to his own eyes. "Your gaze shifts before you throw a punch. Anyone can tell where you're going to strike."

Feng Xiu's expression turned solemn. He knew the other man was teaching him in the most direct way possible.

So he didn't rush to attack. He held his stance and carefully watched Han Che's movements.

When they clashed again, Feng Xiu broke down the Five Force Fist moves and applied them separately, sometimes using the first form, sometimes the ninth. He also began paying attention to combining solid and feinting steps.

Even with Feng Xiu adapting his approach, the rest of their sparring was still a one-sided beating for him.

Han Che's Five Force Fist was exceptionally subtle. Fists, palms, fingers, and legs—he could always slip some small movement into the gaps between Feng Xiu's attacks.

In a fight to the death between martial artists, victory or defeat often came down to an instant.

Eye-gouging, groin strikes, blows to the heart—they targeted all the vital spots.

And the longer they fought, the more clearly Feng Xiu sensed the faint Killing Intent on Han Che.

It forced him to dodge and block in all kinds of awkward ways, throwing off his rhythm and draining him mentally.

Half an incense stick later, Feng Xiu was drenched in sweat. He gulped for air, his arms aching and swollen.

Han Che's external martial arts were far too powerful. The guy was practically made of iron.

Han Che, by contrast, was still breathing steadily, as if he'd only just warmed up.

"That's enough," Uncle Zheng said at just the right moment.

Feng Xiu immediately lowered his guard, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. He solemnly clasped his fists toward Han Che, who was still breathing evenly as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you for your guidance, Brother Han. I've gained a great deal from today's fight."

Han Che returned the salute. "Young Master Feng is very perceptive. You're too kind."

After speaking, he gave Uncle Zheng a slight nod, then slipped soundlessly out of the courtyard.

The courtyard fell quiet. Feng Xiu stood where he was, silently mulling over the details of their sparring, then said, "Uncle Zheng, starting tomorrow, have him work with me. Set his monthly pay at two taels for now. I'll speak to Uncle Zhou."

He'd thought he'd made a little progress in martial arts, but Han Che's arrival had shattered that illusion completely.

Feeling the strength in his body gradually return, Feng Xiu clenched his fist and drew a deep breath.

He still had to train.

Dusk settled. After Uncle Zheng left, Feng Xiu went back to the training room.

Martial arts required both cultivation and practice. His Five Force Fist was progressing quickly, but he couldn't neglect the Eight Sections Vajra Skill either.

Besides, Feng Xiu had discovered something: doing two sets of the Vajra Skill before each medicinal bath helped him absorb the medicine more effectively.

The training room was hot and stuffy. Dozens of sandbags of various sizes hung in one corner, beside a row of wooden dummies.

Feng Xiu stripped off his clothes, revealing a torso with the beginnings of muscle definition. He closed his eyes and focused, clearing his mind of stray thoughts.

His breathing gradually deepened, and his intent sank.

A faint warmth stirred in his chest, rising and falling gently with each breath.

Feng Xiu silently recited the formula, then began to move.

He opened with the fist salute.

His movements remained steady. The instant he began, a warm current flowed into his forearms, and his punches grew half a beat faster.

A sharp whoosh cut through the air, keener than before.

Feng Xiu's spirits lifted. His fists followed his intent as he moved on to the second form, then the third.

Instead of trying to rush through the routine, he matched each form to its own breathing rhythm, trying to send his qi and blood to the parts of his body that needed to exert force most.

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

The warm current of qi and blood pulled back, then burst forth. Wherever his fists struck, the hanging sandbags swung high into the air.

Feng Xiu sweated like rain. As he circulated his qi and blood with each breath, it felt as though a blazing fire burned in his chest.

Circulating, expending, then repeating the process.

His strength didn't run out. Instead, his fist forms grew more refined, each move becoming more solid, clean, and decisive.

"Haah—"

Feng Xiu exhaled like an arrow. Gathering the force he'd built through the first fifteen forms, he paired a deep breath with a full-power strike and punched the side of a wooden dummy wrapped in thick cowhide.

"Thud!"

The muffled impact was unlike the usual shudder of wood. At the point of impact, the thick cowhide sank inward, leaving a clear fist-shaped dent.

Feng Xiu's knuckles were only slightly red, without any sharp pain.

He drew back his fist and slowly regulated his breathing. A rush of exhilaration coursed through him.

Feeling qi and blood surge beneath his skin, he thought of the frustration left by Han Che's beating.

The moment he let it out, that frustration shattered into pieces.

This is strength—the power of martial arts that can transform the body inside and out, even the very essence, energy, and spirit! Feng Xiu understood, his eyes shining.

In just a few days, he'd gone from a pampered young master who couldn't truss a chicken to a martial artist who could throw a powerful punch.

This kind of growth, visible to the eye and tangible to the touch, was far more intense than muddling through the family's affairs.

Earlier, after he'd confirmed that there might be a water monster in Tang Reservoir, Feng Xiu had been terrified—utterly terrified!

But now he felt almost contemptuous, as though a water demon or monster would be nothing special.

"Haah—"

Outside the window, night had fallen.

Yet Feng Xiu's eyes burned brightly, and he felt no fatigue at all.

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

Uncle Zheng had already arranged for a meal to be prepared. When Feng Xiu returned to his bedroom, the table was covered with delicacies: deer-blood soup, medicinal dishes simmered with tiger bones, and more.

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

The nourishing essence he took in from the food became a satisfying fullness that spread through his limbs. He finished every last bite on the table.

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

The instant he stepped into the tub, the scalding medicine seeped through his pores. The slight soreness in his muscles from training quickly eased as the medicine soaked into them.

Who knew how much time passed before the water cooled.

Feng Xiu opened his eyes, climbed out, dried himself, and changed into loose sleeping clothes.

By then, the night was deep and all was still.

Feng Xiu opened the window and, welcoming the cool, fresh air, naturally settled into the starting stance of the Eight Sections Vajra Skill.

He slowly guided his inner qi and blood through a flowing set of movements, his breathing long and deep.

After finishing a set of the Vajra Skill, Feng Xiu felt refreshed. He cleared his mind of all thought, lay down, and immediately fell asleep.

The fourth day of the sixth month came, and the weather grew increasingly hot and stifling.

For some reason, word that the River Law Bureau had temporarily suspended the use of Tang Reservoir's water still spread through the city. The people grew alarmed.

Prices of all kinds soared, especially food.

After hearing the news, Feng Xiu pondered for a moment, then gave an immediate order. "Uncle Zheng, pass down the word. All the grain shops belonging to the Feng Clan are to ration their sales starting today. Once the day's supply is gone, that's it. Don't open the granaries again."

After weighing the matter carefully, Feng Xiu decided not to raise prices rashly, out of caution about Tang Reservoir.

The current mood, the rumors, and the inaction of the Grain Constitution Bureau and River Law Bureau were all deeply abnormal.

Anyone who blindly followed the trend or tried to make a fortune could become a target at the center of the whirlpool.

He did have a rather bold theory, but he would need to investigate it thoroughly first.

"Uncle Zheng, send out two invitations in my name as well."

Feng Xiu lightly tapped the desk with his fingertip. "One to Fan Ling, the eldest young master of the Fan Family, and one to Lin Che, the eldest young master of the Lin Family. Say that the weather has been strange lately and I'm worried about the crops. Invite them to my residence to discuss what we should do."

Uncle Zheng understood. He accepted the order and withdrew.

After he left, Feng Xiu didn't get up. He continued thinking about how to persuade the two men to join forces with him.

The Fan and Lin families were both major grain merchants in Green Rock City, with no fewer farms than the Feng Clan.

There was no rain, and Tang Reservoir remained closed.

He'd expected someone to be the first to step forward, but every family in the city was better than the last at keeping their composure.

The ten-day deadline was almost here. He couldn't very well pin his hopes on an old Daoist who seemed likely to set up an altar and perform a ritual.

In the reception hall, Feng Xiu was temporarily seated in the family head's place. Thoughts surged through his mind as he tapped the armrest with his index finger, turning over one possibility after another.

"Is there a water monster in Tang Reservoir, or some kind of unusual fish?"

Ever since he'd seen what he had at Tang Reservoir, the idea of a water monster had lingered in his mind, impossible to shake.

Yet his own clear memories held no tales of "sacrifices" or "water monsters."

If there really was something underwater, and even a family with a River Law Seal knew nothing about it, then the other families surely didn't know either.

"Is this a political issue, or is the reservoir simply poorly built? Whatever the answer, I have to get to the bottom of it."