Overtraining

Everyone watched without blinking, not daring to take their eyes off him.

They knew Master Hong was about to teach them a secret technique.

The next moment, Hong Yuan moved.

He gave both arms a sudden shake. The eighteen iron rings instantly drew tight, clanging together with a grating metallic crash!

He sank his hips and planted his feet. The entire training ground seemed to tremble faintly beneath him!

"Overlord Breaks the River!"

His furious shout cracked like thunder.

Hong Yuan's arms crossed and swept wildly, his fists striking out like iron urns.

Each time those fists, as large as earthenware jars, shot forward,

a violent gale surged with them.

As his arms whirled, the eighteen iron rings became streaks of dark, raging lightning!

The air was savagely torn and compressed, erupting in sharp, explosive cracks!

Gales roared in every direction, whipping the disciples' robes and nearly knocking them off their feet!

For a moment, everyone seemed to see an ancient overlord before them, twin axes in hand, furiously cleaving a mighty river in two!

That overwhelming, unstoppable aura, powerful enough to shatter metal and stone, turned many disciples pale.

Against an assault like that, forget facing it head-on—even a glancing brush from the wind of those punches would strip flesh from your bones.

Lin Qing watched, utterly enthralled, and found himself holding his breath.

He could clearly feel that this move, Overlord Breaks the River, had brought the fierce, violent nature of Iron Wire Fist to its utmost limit!

At its highest level, those iron-ring-wrapped arms were practically divine weapons, capable of smashing through anything.

Its power was in no way inferior to that of the masters who specialized in external cultivation!

Hong Yuan finished the demonstration and stood at ease, his breathing steady.

It was as though the earth-shattering scene from moments ago had been an illusion.

Yet the lingering pressure in the air, enough to make one's heart tremble, refused to fade.

The disciples were still lost in shock, the courtyard utterly silent.

Just then,

a figure stepped out from the crowd.

It was Zhang Shun!

Unlike usual, Zhang Shun's eyes were sharp, and his blood and qi surged around him. Clearly, he had brought himself to peak condition as well.

He took a deep breath and shook his arms!

"Clang, clang, clang!"

The iron rings on his arms slid down one after another, ringing out crisply.

He didn't wield them with anything like Hong Yuan's effortless mastery, but his presence was still impressive.

He recalled the force Hong Yuan had used, along with the headlong, domineering intent behind the move.

Then he suddenly stepped forward, muscles bulging in his arms, and struck out with fierce abandon!

"Ha!"

Zhang Shun, too, performed Overlord Breaks the River, his fists howling through the air.

Though nowhere near as terrifying as Hong Yuan's display, his arms still swept the rings through the air with a whistle, stirring faint sounds of wind and thunder.

His strength coalesced. He had clearly grasped some of the very essence of Overlord Breaks the River!

Hong Yuan gave an approving nod.

At the instant Zhang Shun completed the move and his momentum peaked, his blood and qi roared to a boil.

His bones crackled faintly, and the blood and qi beneath his skin flowed like liquid mercury. A dense, powerful aura—far stronger than that of the Tendon Opening Realm—suddenly erupted from him!

Bone Forging Realm, Third Barrier Realm!

Zhang Shun had actually broken through the bottleneck that had troubled him for so long,

while observing a killing move and practicing his fist technique.

He had entered the third barrier of martial cultivation.

A hint of satisfaction flashed through Hong Yuan's eyes. He nodded slightly and announced in a clear voice, "Zhang Shun has good natural aptitude and comprehension, and he's worked hard. He's been in the martial hall for three years, and today he broke through to the Bone Forging Realm."

"Starting today, I accept him as the fourth inner disciple of the Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall!"

His words sent an uproar through the crowd!

Inner disciples were the true core of the martial hall. They received personal instruction from the master and enjoyed more resources and higher status.

The disciples looked at Zhang Shun with overwhelming envy and awe.

"Congratulations, Senior Brother Zhang!"

"Congratulations on your breakthrough, Senior Brother Zhang!"

Voices of congratulations rose one after another.

Lin Qing stepped forward too, genuinely happy for his senior brother. He cupped his fists and said, "Congratulations, Brother Shunzi—no, congratulations, Senior Brother Zhang!"

Yet after his breakthrough, Zhang Shun seemed to have changed in some subtle way.

Although he wore a smile, it lacked some of the easy warmth he'd shown in the past.

In its place was the reserve of an inner disciple.

In response to Lin Qing's congratulations, he merely nodded faintly.

Before long, several other inner disciples hurried over after hearing the news. They surrounded Zhang Shun, chatting and laughing as they formed a new little circle.

They soon led Zhang Shun into the inner courtyard.

The outer disciples, Lin Qing among them,

were left outside, naturally shut off from the group.

Lin Qing stood where he was, watching Zhang Shun bask in the attention of the others, looking proud and spirited.

He felt little envy, only a faint understanding dawning within him.

With every step forward on the path of martial cultivation, one entered a whole new world.

Status, rank, and social circles all shifted quietly along with it.

The Brother Shunzi he'd once been able to drink and trade brotherly banter with

was now Senior Brother Zhang, someone he had to look up to.

Inside the martial hall,

ever since Zhang Shun had broken through to the Bone Forging Realm and been personally accepted as an inner disciple by Hong Yuan, the atmosphere in the hall had quietly changed.

All kinds of emotions took root and fermented in the young disciples' hearts, driving them to train even harder.

Among them, Wang Cheng, the former fisherman famed for his tenacity, stood out the most.

Lin Qing watched almost every day as Wang Cheng pushed himself to his limits.

Each day, before dawn, when Lin Qing arrived at the martial hall, Wang Cheng had already been standing in the corner of the training ground in Iron Thread Stance for a long while. Sweat had soaked the ground around his feet.

During the day, when everyone practiced their fist techniques together, he was meticulous, striving for perfection in every movement as though he never tired.

By dusk, after the other disciples had gradually left, the vast training ground was often left with Wang Cheng alone. He kept pounding the Iron-Clad Wooden Post or practicing the Twelve Bridge Hands by himself until a senior brother on his way out had to chase him off.

Only then would he drag his nearly broken body away in silence.

Master Hong had been impressed by his astonishing perseverance and had personally given him some pointers. Unfortunately, Wang Cheng had decent natural aptitude but only average comprehension, so he still had to rely on painstaking effort to build up his understanding.

His silence and grit created an invisible pressure among the disciples, and earned him their admiration.

Lin Qing couldn't help sighing inwardly.

The man's diligence far surpassed that of ordinary people. He was a true hard case.

He seemed to treat himself like a lump of stubborn iron, determined to hammer himself into steel with endless sweat and pain.

But the path of martial cultivation

demanded more than perseverance.

It also depended on talent, a solid foundation, and knowing when to push and when to rest.

Lin Qing had tried training that way too.

He'd found that his body simply couldn't take it.

Even with medicinal powders and oils to help, the human body still needed time to recover.

So he didn't compete for a fleeting burst of enthusiasm.

One morning, several days later,

shocking news exploded through the martial hall.

Wang Cheng was dead.

He hadn't been killed in a feud or died in an accident.

He had died from overtraining, his blood and qi depleted.

On his way home late the previous night, he had suddenly collapsed in a dark alley not far from his house.

He wasn't discovered until dawn, when an early-rising night watchman found him.

His body had already gone stiff.

For a time, the martial hall fell completely silent.

Only an indescribable heaviness remained.

The man who had still been sweating through his training the day before, his gaze stubborn and intent,

had vanished without a sound.