First Glimpse of the Threshold

Then he reached out and patted Feng Xiu on the shoulder, his eyes filled with undisguised approval. "Quick-witted, able to draw inferences—that already puts you far above most people."

The martial path was never a system where bitter training alone yielded results. Feng Xiu's flexible adaptation also made him consider teaching something new while continuing to temper the boy's temperament.

Feng Xiu wiped the fine sweat from his forehead and smiled deferentially. "It's all because Uncle Zhou teaches well. Your fist art is wondrous."

"Less flattery."

Zhou Gang laughed and scolded him, but the warmth in his eyes only deepened. "No matter how wondrous the fist art, it still needs someone willing to put in the hard work. It seems I can teach you some real techniques today."

"Please, Uncle Zhou, bestow your instruction." Feng Xiu clasped his fists in salute.

During the earlier training, Feng Xiu had considered directly executing the complete Five Force Fist. But every time he reached the ninth form, there was a clear, jarring sense of obstruction.

Zhou Gang's smile faded as he resumed his stern master's demeanor. "You've grasped the form of the first eight forms. What's rarer is that you seem to have vaguely touched the threshold of letting force follow form."

He walked to an open space in the courtyard, his voice steady. "The last eight forms of the Five Force Fist no longer train mere sinew, bone, and membrane."

"Then what do they train?" Feng Xiu's gaze burned with intensity.

"They train a breath, a momentum—a method for moving blood and qi, laying the foundation for igniting the blood and building the foundation!"

"As long as you can learn to nourish blood with qi, subsequent cultivation will lay the groundwork for internal breathing techniques. The first eight forms are digging riverbeds and widening channels."

"The last eight forms are guiding water into the channels and letting it surge. Watch closely!"

Zhou Gang's eyes flashed like lightning. Without another word, his body moved.

This time, his movements were completely different from the steady, expansive first eight forms. The moment he began, the air around him seemed to congeal.

His movements were shorter and more explosive, yet there was a strange sense of delay in the transitions. It felt as if force was deliberately blocked within his body, accumulated, and then suddenly released.

His breathing rhythm was clearly audible—sometimes long, sometimes short. After the final form, a faint white vapor streamed from his nostrils.

"Did you understand? The forms of the last eight are not complicated. They can even be seen as variations and accelerations of the first eight."

Feng Xiu pondered briefly. "Alright, I'll give it a try."

As he said, the last eight forms were not complex. With Zhou Gang's breakdown of the movements, Feng Xiu learned them easily. But when he added the breathing method, his forms began to warp.

"Breath, breath. This move, Pushing Mountains into the Sea, is a push—inhale into the dantian, then push, then exhale."

Feng Xiu focused, twisting his waist and sending his fist forward again, coordinating with a short exhale. He deliberately concentrated his intent on his lower abdomen. Just as the fist's momentum was about to exhaust, a warmth like an earthworm wriggling surged from his dantian.

Though extremely faint and utterly uncontrollable, his breath suddenly collapsed.

Precise movements, coordinated breathing, splitting his focus—the difficulty was truly extraordinary.

Still, Zhou Gang didn't criticize too harshly.

"It's fine. Your path is correct. Just remember this feeling. Practice only this form today until your breath and qi sensation move as naturally as your arm and fingers. The subsequent forms will come naturally."

"Thank you for your guidance, Uncle Zhou."

Feng Xiu's expression was solemn as he bowed sincerely to Zhou Gang.

One was willing to teach, the other genuinely wanted to learn. Setting aside the cooperative bond between the Zhou family escort team and the Feng family, Zhou Gang had already done more than his duty.

Days passed one after another, and in the blink of an eye, four days had gone by.

During these four days, Feng Xiu's schedule became fixed: practicing fist arts at dawn, handling affairs during the day, medicinal baths in the afternoon, fist arts again in the evening, and late nights continuing to cultivate the Eight Sections Vajra Skill.

Zhou Gang would find time every day to look in, offer a few pointers, and then leave satisfied.

Meanwhile, Master Black sent back a message saying he had already arrived in Yulin Prefecture. But he had encountered some difficulties—what exactly, he didn't specify.

Feng Shouzhuo's condition fluctuated between good and bad. On good days, he could recognize people and drink congee; on bad days, he still muttered deliriously.

As for the gift sent to Juyuan Pawnshop, Uncle Zheng had personally handled it. Shopkeeper Liu showed no particular reaction, but the main party, Liu Wenjun, was still nowhere to be found.

Feng Xiu kept all these matters in mind, but his cultivation grew ever more focused.

With Zhou Gang's generous instruction, the Eight Sections Vajra Skill's body-nourishing effects, and the Five Force medicinal bath's replenishment of essence to consolidate his gains, Feng Xiu's progress was rapid. The eighth form, Pushing Mountains into the Sea; the ninth form, Weary Tiger Returns to the Forest; the tenth form, Soaring Lake Overturning Dragon; the eleventh form, Dragon and Tiger Clash.

Now, under the blazing noon sun in the small courtyard, Feng Xiu raised his fists in a martial salute.

His calm eyes suddenly sharpened as he extended a fist and kicked out, his hands moving in a continuous chain, every bone and sinew in his body crackling.

Each move was accompanied by a faint tearing of the air, the motions violent and fierce. The first eight stances were as steady as a mountain, building momentum; the last eight erupted in a sudden explosion!

For the first time, he executed the sixteen stances of the fist technique without a single hitch. As he drew to a close, the blood and qi surged through his body, and a newfound sense of power filled his limbs and frame.

A complete set of the Five Force Fist had finally come together naturally.

"Hoo~~"

As he finished, sweat poured from his entire body. Feng Xiu exhaled a murky white breath from his mouth and nose.

With that waste breath expelled, his blood and qi seemed to grow even purer. A sharp light gleamed in Feng Xiu's eyes as he slowly savored and relished the subtlety of the Five Force Fist.

[Life: 8]
[Spirit: 1]
[Strength: 1]
[Agility: 1]
[Skill Record: Eight Sections Vajra Skill (At Its Peak: Life +2, Spirit +1)], [Five Force Fist (First Glimpse: Strength +1, Agility +1)]
[Fusion: Not Yet at Perfection, Unattainable]

Four days—long or short as it may be—had barely been enough to force out the blood and qi sensation of the Five Force Fist.

On the panel, the Eight Sections Vajra Skill had also advanced another layer, but Life had actually dropped instead. He guessed that as the skill progressed further, it began to involve other attributes.

The human body wasn't game data; no single martial art could only boost one extreme attribute. It was just a matter of different proportions at different stages.

The same went for the Five Force Fist. This technique truly lived up to its reputation as a high-tier martial art—merely glimpsing it had already increased two attributes.

Not only that. The tangible manifestation of Life was a ruddy complexion and abundant stamina, while after Strength increased by one point—

A faint surge of heat churned from his chest, rapidly gathering in his limbs and spine. His back straightened, and a full, surging force shot up from his tailbone.

It gradually flowed through his entire body before finally settling down.

This sensation wasn't particularly strong in his torso.

But it was especially pronounced in his hands, legs, and the great dragon of his spine.

Feng Xiu looked down. His originally fair fingers now faintly bore a hint of darkness. He clenched his fist slightly—veins bulged subtly, the skin and muscle over his knuckles stretched taut, and his strength surged.

He called up the panel again, stared at it for a while, then dismissed it.

Afterward, Feng Xiu walked to the corner of the courtyard where various training equipment of different sizes was arranged. He picked up a standard stone lock weighing 120 jin.

Before, he'd had to grit his teeth and strain to lift this thing. Now, it felt light, with a comfortable sense of effortless control.

And it didn't stop there.

Feng Xiu lifted his head to look at the trees in the yard and the eaves in the distance—his vision was clearer than before, too.