A Boy Practicing Fists

The blazing sun hung high overhead, its heat scorching like fire.

Great Chu · Cang Prefecture · Abyss-Facing City.

White Cloud Martial Hall.

The vermilion gates stood half-open, and two large characters, "White Cloud," were written on the plaque in strokes that danced like dragons and soared like phoenixes.

The packed yellow earth in the courtyard had been trampled smooth and bright.

Several stone locks were piled in a corner, with a few wooden training posts standing beside them.

More than a dozen apprentices in gray training uniforms practiced their fists beneath the sun, sweating like rain.

Their fists tore through the searing air, and beads of sweat struck the blazing ground, only to dry in the blink of an eye.

"Punch faster! Keep your stance steady!"

"Get your spirits up! Anyone who can't sense Qi-Blood by the deadline can get lost! My White Cloud Martial Hall doesn't take trash!"

The furious roar of Hall Master Luo Kun echoed through the courtyard, making everyone's eardrums ache.

"Jiang Che, have you sensed Qi-Blood yet?"

From the back row, Zhao Xisheng asked in a lowered voice.

He always carried a faint fishy smell, and no one else wanted to deal with him. Only Jiang Che did not mind.

"Not yet." Jiang Che shook his head, his movements not slowing in the slightest.

Jiang Che was sixteen this year. He had a lean frame and wheat-colored skin tanned from years of martial training.

Though his face was still youthful, his gaze was far steadier than that of his peers.

"Ah, there's really no hope for me..." Zhao Xisheng wiped away his sweat. "What does this Qi-Blood even feel like?"

"I heard it feels like there's a ball of fire in your stomach." Jiang Che answered as he punched. "There's still a month left. Keep at it. Maybe you'll suddenly get the knack tomorrow."

"Easy for you to say... Forget it, the sun is too harsh. I can't keep punching. I'm taking a break."

Zhao Xisheng muttered as he withdrew his fists and slipped into the shade by the wall.

Jiang Che ignored him and continued practicing with full focus.

His parents had scrimped and saved ten taels of silver to send him here to study martial arts for a year.

If he failed to make something of himself, how could he face them?

As the sun sank in the west, the people in the courtyard gradually dispersed.

Jiang Che was still practicing his fists.

Sweat dripped from the tips of his hair onto the ground, and his training uniform had long since been soaked through.

[White Cloud Fist Proficiency +2]

"Phew..."

Jiang Che withdrew his fists, wiped away his sweat, and went to rest by the wall.

"Experience finally went up."

He waved a hand through the air.

At once, a transparent panel visible only to him appeared.

[Name: Jiang Che]

[Age: 16]

[Realm: None]

[Skills: White Cloud Fist Mastery (340/400), Writing Mastery (398/400)]

A year ago, Jiang Che had awakened the wisdom of a past life, recovering the memories of his previous incarnation.

Along with them had come this panel from a little game he had played in that past life.

Any skill mastered to the beginner level would be recorded.

As long as he practiced, its proficiency would increase until it was perfected.

"At this rate, it should be perfected by the deadline."

Jiang Che calculated silently.

"I hope I'll be able to sense Qi-Blood by then..."

White Cloud Fist was the foundational fist art of White Cloud Martial Hall.

When practiced, it could stimulate the body's meridians and allow one to sense Qi-Blood.

Once successful, one could become an official disciple of the Martial Arts Hall.

Learn deeper martial arts and become a true martial artist.

Great Chu had founded its nation upon martial strength.

Martial artists possessed not only formidable power but status far beyond that of ordinary people.

Yet among the apprentices in the Martial Arts Hall, very few could sense Qi-Blood.

Either they possessed extraordinary talent.

Or their families were wealthy enough to pile up medicinal tonics for them.

Jiang Che had neither.

His natural aptitude was ordinary, and his family was poor. He normally could not even afford meat, much less medicinal tonics.

Thus, he had been born deficient, his Qi-Blood depleted.

Though he had long since cultivated White Cloud Fist to the mastery realm.

His body was still utterly empty, without the slightest sign of Qi-Blood.

"I heard no one has ever cultivated White Cloud Fist to perfection..."

After all, those who developed Qi-Blood went on to study deeper Qi-Blood martial arts, while those who failed could not persist until the end.

But with the panel, Jiang Che was confident he could break through this limit.

"I wonder what will happen after it reaches perfection?"

A faint anticipation stirred within him.

After resting briefly, he returned to the courtyard and continued practicing his fists.

By the time he came back to himself, the sky was nearly dark.

Only Hall Master Luo Kun remained in the courtyard, sitting beneath the eaves with his eyes closed in meditation.

His inch-long white hair stood upright like steel needles.

A dark-red scar ran from his forehead to his cheekbone, clinging there like a centipede and making him look rather fierce.

His body was gaunt, yet his back stood straight as a blade.

He wore a black fitted outfit washed pale with age, and even his cloth shoes had long since worn curled edges.

Jiang Che walked over and saluted Luo Kun.

"Hall Master, this disciple will take his leave first."

The old man did not move, as though he were a statue.

Only after Jiang Che had gone far away did Luo Kun slowly open his eyes and look in the direction the boy had left.

"His temperament is passable, but his natural aptitude is too poor..."

With that, he closed his eyes again.

After leaving White Cloud Martial Hall, Jiang Che hurried home along the main road.

Beneath the eaves lining both sides of the street, many ragged beggars lay curled up.

Some had become so thin that they were little more than skin stretched over bones, lying motionless against the walls. It was impossible to tell whether they were alive or dead.

"There have been more and more beggars lately..."

Jiang Che unconsciously quickened his pace.

After turning into a side alley.

He suddenly heard sounds of beating and cursing ahead.

Several men holding clubs were beating an old beggar.

The clubs struck the old man's body with dull thuds.

The old beggar's face was covered in blood as he lay on the ground, pleading miserably for mercy.

Yet those men showed no intention of stopping.

Jiang Che recognized the leader as Zhao Hu, a notorious local thug.

It was said that he had gang connections and was exceptionally ruthless.

Jiang Che paused, his fists clenching unconsciously, but in the end, he lowered his head and went around them.

In times like these, merely protecting oneself was already difficult. How could he concern himself with others?

After passing through several more narrow alleys, the stench of garbage and excrement filled the air.

Jiang Che skillfully avoided the puddles of filthy water on the ground and arrived before a low, modest house.

The plaster on its walls had peeled badly, and some roof tiles were cracked or missing.

The sky had already gone completely dark.

He pushed open the creaking wooden door, quickly slipped inside, and slid the bolt into place behind him.

The city had been unsettled lately. Refugees often sneaked in at night, so he did not dare let down his guard.

The room was pitch-black, with no lamp lit.

"Linger?" Jiang Che called out, but received no response.

His heart tightened, and he hurried inward.

By the faint light from outside the window, he saw his younger sister Jiang Ling asleep with her head on the table.

The table was old and worn, its paint almost entirely gone and its grain blackened.

A pile of clothing sat neatly folded atop it, with needle and thread beside it.

These were odd jobs she had taken on. Even after working all day, she earned only ten copper coins.

Jiang Che gently lit the oil lamp, and the room immediately brightened considerably.

Jiang Ling woke at that moment. She rubbed her eyes, and once she saw it was Jiang Che, a smile immediately bloomed across her face.

"Brother, you're back!"

She was thirteen this year, small and slight, with a somewhat pale complexion.

Her pointed chin made her eyes appear especially large.

Her hair was somewhat dry and yellow, but neatly combed and tied into twin buns with a faded red cloth ribbon.

She wore a pale blue cloth dress washed nearly white, with dense patches sewn onto the cuffs.

"Why didn't you eat first?" Jiang Che asked.

"I wasn't hungry. I wanted to wait and eat with you."

Jiang Ling stood and briskly cleared the clothes and sewing supplies from the table.

Jiang Che sighed and walked into the kitchen.

It was small and dim, its walls blackened by smoke.

When he lifted the pot lid, he found several coarse flour cakes, a small dish of pickled vegetables, and one boiled egg.

Food was scarce these days. Ordinary people could not even afford meat, and eggs already counted as rare nourishment.

Jiang Che had gritted his teeth and bought a few only for the sake of martial training.

He brought the food to the table, peeled the egg, and was just about to put it into his mouth.

Then he noticed Jiang Ling staring longingly at the egg as she quietly swallowed.

Jiang Che's hand stopped.

Jiang Ling hurriedly lowered her head and bit into her cake, pretending not to care.

Jiang Che fell silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

"Oh, right. My master praised me for improving a lot today and rewarded me with half a roast chicken. I ate until I was stuffed, so you can have this egg."

"Roast chicken?" Jiang Ling's eyes lit up.

She remembered that the last time she had eaten roast chicken was three years ago.

At the time, she had fallen gravely ill and had started babbling nonsense, so their father bought a roast chicken home.

She had been overjoyed that day, believing roast chicken was the most delicious thing in the world.

Afterward, she had kept hoping she would fall sick again so she could eat roast chicken once more.

She shook her head, casting aside those stray thoughts.

She accepted the egg, but broke it in half and handed back the half with more yolk.

"Brother, half is enough for me."

Jiang Che looked at her stubborn expression, smiled helplessly, and accepted the half egg.

"Looks like I need to find a way to make money..."

Jiang Che thought to himself.

Not only did his martial training require him to eat more meat.

His sister could not go on like this either, or hunger would sooner or later ruin her health.

"Oh, right, Brother, have you heard anything about Father and Mother...?"

Jiang Ling suddenly asked softly.

Jiang Che's movements paused, and then he shook his head.

"I had someone ask around. There's still no news from Hengsha City."

Their parents had gone to Squire Li's home in the neighboring Hengsha City a month ago to do carpentry work.

They should have returned after half a month, but there had been no news of them to this day.

He had asked people to investigate, but the constables had been perfunctory, saying only that they might have been attacked by Black Beasts.

Black Beasts were mutated wild beasts that emitted black smoke from their bodies and were exceptionally ferocious.

No one knew where they had come from, but many people outside the city had been attacked by them.

"How about I go to Hengsha City in a few days and take a look..."

Jiang Che sighed and spoke.

Jiang Ling fell silent for a while, then suddenly clutched Jiang Che's sleeve tightly.

"Brother, forget it..."

"There are Black Beasts outside the city. It's too dangerous to leave the city now. Don't go."

Jiang Che looked into his sister's anxious eyes.

She did not want to lose him, her brother, too.

"Then... I'll go after I've mastered martial arts. By then, once I have the strength to protect myself, I probably won't have to fear the Black Beasts!"

"Mm-hm!"