First Display of Sharpness

Yang Family Martial Arts Hall, middle courtyard training ground.

As Lin Yan stepped through the gate, he noticed several new faces on the field—youngsters who had successfully completed their foundation training and just promoted to the middle courtyard.

Ge Hui remained in charge of instructing the group.

Upon seeing Lin Yan appear, Ge Hui's expression darkened.

He hadn't expected Lin Yan to be so lucky.

He had just set a trap for Lin Yan using the Black Tiger Gang, only for the gang to be wiped out shortly after.

Over the past two days, he had extinguished any desire to continue finding people to deal with Lin Yan.

Upon reflection, he realized Lin Yan wasn't worth the two taels of silver.

However, seeing Lin Yan holding the General Affairs Room token and walking straight toward the large iron cauldron to scoop up the Skin Refining Paste, Ge Hui's anger flared up again.

The master forbade disciples from fighting each other, but he never said they couldn't spar.

An hour later, Lin Yan walked toward the iron cauldron.

Ge Hui's gaze swept over, and just as he was about to speak, he saw Lin Yan take the initiative to roll up his sleeves, revealing his bronze-colored forearms.

The rebuke died in his throat.

He knew clearly that scolding was useless against Lin Yan; the man was thick-skinned.

Back when the martial arts hall provided secret medicine for free, Lin Yan had continued to apply it despite his cold sarcasm and suppression. Why would he stop now that he was paying for it himself?

My Mountain Splitting Fist is more proficient, and the efficiency of absorbing the Skin Refining Paste has increased, Lin Yan thought, ignoring Ge Hui's internal state. It used to take two hours to absorb, but now it only takes one. I can apply it four times a day. This tael of silver was well spent.

One tael of silver had yielded the results of four.

He was grateful to the master for limiting the time, but not the quantity.

The second time, the third time, the fourth time...

By the time the firewood under the iron cauldron burned out, Lin Yan had just finished his fourth application.

Ge Hui stared at him intently, wondering if this guy had secretly hidden some of the paste; otherwise, how could he absorb it so quickly?

Unfortunately, by the time the sky turned dark, he hadn't caught him in any wrongdoing and could only leave in a huff.

One day, two days, three days.

Lin Yan looked inward at his mind; the Martial Dao Tree was growing steadily. Almost there. A few more days should be enough.

"Everyone, stop!"

Ge Hui's voice rang out across the training ground.

Lin Yan, who was practicing his punches, frowned slightly but still withdrew his stance.

After all, Ge Hui had been ordered by the master to instruct them. He could resist unreasonable demands, but he couldn't ignore the rules—he couldn't give Ge Hui any leverage.

"Martial arts cannot be practiced by rote; you must also focus on actual combat," Ge Hui said, scanning the crowd. "Today, you will spar in pairs to test your combat ability."

As soon as these words were spoken, many disciples' eyes lit up.

Among these youngsters who had joined the martial arts hall, who hadn't fantasized about fighting ten opponents at once or looking imposing?

But since joining, it had been day after day of practicing punches—tedious to the extreme.

Hearing they could spar, everyone was eager to try.

"None of you have reached the first stage of skin refining yet, so your strength is similar. I will group you randomly. You are all fellow disciples, so keep your strikes measured."

"Wang Hai, Zhang Qiang, you're a pair."

"Zhang Ping'an, Li Kexiu, you're a pair."

Ge Hui paired them off one by one, finally letting his gaze fall on Lin Yan with a meaningful look.

"Lin Yan, Qian Jun, you're a pair."

Me and Qian Jun?

Lin Yan glanced at the burly Qian Jun opposite him. If he remembered correctly, Qian Jun had joined the martial arts hall four months earlier than him and had never missed a dose of Skin Refining Paste. Even if he hadn't reached the first stage of skin refining, he wasn't far off.

This match is aimed at me.

Ge Hui must have colluded with Qian Jun in private.

While he spoke of "measured strikes," fists and feet had no eyes. As long as no one was crippled, the martial arts hall wouldn't investigate deeply. In the master's eyes, disciples who hadn't even reached the first stage of skin refining weren't worth much attention; if they were injured, they could only blame their own incompetence.

Lin Yan saw through it all, but he didn't refuse.

He wasn't far from the first stage of skin refining himself, and Qian Jun was indeed a suitable opponent.

Soon, Wang Hai and Zhang Qiang stood in the center of the training ground.

Lin Yan watched them throw punches and shook his head slightly. Too rigid. Every move and stance is inflexible.

If it were him, he could take them down in two moves.

"Wang Hai, your force exertion on that punch is wrong. Zhang Qiang, why didn't you shift your right foot to counter when facing that move? Moves are dead, but people are alive..."

After the sparring ended, Ge Hui critiqued them one by one, appearing as if he were truly and earnestly guiding his junior brothers.

This move earned him quite a bit of goodwill.

After a few rounds, Ge Hui's gaze sharpened: "Next round, Qian Jun versus Lin Yan."

"Junior Brother Lin, please."

Qian Jun stood there boorishly, not taking Lin Yan seriously in the slightest.

He had been at the martial arts hall for over five months and was nearing the skin-tempering stage; Lin Yan had only been here for a month, so how could he possibly be a match for him?

Since this brat dared to offend Senior Brother Ge, it was the perfect opportunity to vent some frustration on his behalf.

"Senior Brother Qian."

Lin Yan did not perform the Hand-Clasping Etiquette. Instead, he stepped forward, walked right up to Qian Jun, and naturally extended his right hand.

The crowd was stunned.

When martial artists spar, they either clasp their fists in greeting or start fighting immediately; what was the meaning of reaching out a hand?

Qian Jun was also taken aback. Looking at the knobby hand extended toward him, he subconsciously reached out and shook it.

"Please enlighten me, Senior Brother Qian."

Lin Yan released his hand and retreated to his original spot.

"What kind of etiquette is that?"

"It looks like one, but I've never heard of it..."

Hearing the whispers around him, Lin Yan smiled slightly: "This is called the Hand-Clasping Etiquette; I saw it in an ancient book. Senior Brother Qian started earlier than me, so sparring with me is an act of guidance. I felt I should offer a hand."

The crowd realized, and though they felt the explanation was a bit far-fetched, no one paid it much mind.

In his mind, Lin Yan looked at the gray Martial Dao Tree, which was a head shorter than his own, and felt completely at ease.

Qian Jun's progress in skin-tempering was far behind his own, his blood-qi was inferior, and there was no need to even mention the proficiency of his Mountain Splitting Fist.

He could not lose this fight.

What he needed to consider now was whether or not to hide his true strength.

Seeing Lin Yan standing silently after returning to his spot, Qian Jun let out a low shout: "Junior Brother Lin, watch your guard!"

He sank into a horse stance and drove his right fist straight toward Lin Yan's face, accompanied by the sound of rushing wind.

Before the fist arrived, the wind of the strike was already hitting his face.

The surrounding disciples gasped.

Lin Yan's expression remained unchanged.

In his eyes, this punch was full of openings. To maximize power, Qian Jun had leaned his upper body too far forward, shifting his center of gravity toward his left leg. By the time the punch was thrown, his shoulder blades hadn't fully opened, and the force had already dissipated significantly by the time it reached his elbow.

Lin Yan did not dodge or evade. Only when the wind of the punch brushed his face did he tilt his head slightly, letting the fist graze his ear in a seemingly dangerous maneuver.

At the same time, his footwork shifted fluidly, smoothly cutting into the gap in Qian Jun's center.

There were no flashy moves, just an "Open Door See Mountain" from the Mountain Splitting Fist. He raised his right fist from his waist, dropped his shoulder and elbow, and struck along the shortest, straightest line.

The timing was impeccable.

It was the exact moment Qian Jun's old force had been spent and his center of gravity was unstable.

Qian Jun's pupils constricted. He wanted to block or dodge, but his body was stiff from overexertion and his reaction was a beat too slow. He could only manage a clumsy twist, bracing with his left arm.

Bang!

A dull thud exploded.

Qian Jun felt a sharp, numbing pain in his left ribs. Half his body lost all strength, and he stumbled back five or six steps before collapsing onto his backside.

He looked up at Lin Yan, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

The entire hall fell silent.

Many disciples hadn't even seen what happened; they only saw Qian Jun throw a fierce punch that missed, then Lin Yan step forward and land a casual blow, causing Qian Jun to fall.

Lin Yan slowly retracted his fist, his breathing as steady as ever, as if he had merely swatted away a fly.

He glanced at Qian Jun, who was slumped on the ground, then flicked a look at Ge Hui's livid face, cupped his hands, and said indifferently: "Senior Brother Qian, you concede."

The sneer on Ge Hui's face froze completely.

He couldn't understand how Lin Yan had defeated Qian Jun so easily. Even he, without using the blood-qi suppression of a first-stage skin-tempering martial artist, couldn't have won so quickly.

"Junior Brother Lin is truly impressive. It makes my hands itch. Why don't the two of us exchange a few moves?"

"Senior Brother Ge is already a first-stage skin-tempering martial artist; how could I be your match? I concede."

Lin Yan refused with a very straightforward display of weakness.

The fight with Zhou Wu had taught him that the risks of challenging someone of a higher level were too great, and he would not do it unless absolutely necessary.

Looking at Lin Yan's humble, "I am not worthy" face, Ge Hui wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into it.

But he didn't dare.

If he truly dared to make a move, his master would never forgive him.

"The sparring is over, continue practicing your punches."

Ge Hui walked away, suppressing his rage.

Lin Yan remained on the training grounds, continuing his practice as if nothing had happened.

Only this time, many eyes on the training grounds drifted toward him from time to time—curious, prying, and re-evaluating.

The two people who had previously kept their distance from him quietly edged back in.

Lin Yan greeted them with a smile, his attitude exactly the same as before.