Late at night, Feng Mansion.
The candlelight in the night watch room cast a soft halo. A middle-aged man in coarse clothes had a single robe draped over his shoulders and held a fist manual in his hand.
As he read it closely, he stretched out a hand and mimicked the moves with all the seriousness of the real thing.
After finishing the fist manual, Old Zhang yawned tiredly.
Those assigned to night patrol duty at Feng Mansion had to remain on watch all night, in case the master of the house had some urgent matter to summon them for.
Suppressing his drowsiness once more, he began practicing the fist forms inside the room.
After finishing the routine, Old Zhang felt much more alert, and his sleepiness gradually faded.
"This Five Force Fist really does have something to it."
Old Zhang smacked his lips, slightly raised his right arm, and assumed the opening stance of the third form again. Just as he was about to practice it once more, he stopped himself.
He had privately asked Manager Han about it before. From what Manager Han had implied, his bone age was already too advanced. It was fine to use the Five Force Fist to exercise his body, but he absolutely must not become obsessed with it.
That was easy enough to say, but once he truly started practicing, he discovered that the tingling pleasure constantly accompanying the pull of his ligaments was simply impossible to resist.
"The eldest young master is blessed by heaven with peerless talent. I wonder when I'll ever reach his realm."
Old Zhang began practicing again in small motions, unable to stop himself from thinking of it, a yearning rising in his heart.
"Even this improved fist art is so difficult. Before it was improved, wouldn't