Testing Fists

As the sun slanted toward the west, the caravan pulled into a small town.

The town was not large, with scattered storefronts lining both sides of the main road—mostly inns, taverns, blacksmiths, and stables—clearly catering to those passing through.

"We've arrived!" Zhao Tieshan rode back, his face relaxed. "Young Gang Leader, up ahead is the Old Yang Inn. The old proprietor has been working with us for over a decade; it's reliable."

Su Derong nodded. "Follow the usual routine. We rest here tonight. Tomorrow at dawn, we cross Black Wind Ridge."

The inn's sign read "Old Yang Inn," the paint faded, but the facade was tidy.

The proprietor was a chubby middle-aged man. Upon seeing the escort flag, he hurried out with a beaming smile, greeting Su Derong and Zhao Tieshan with practiced familiarity: "Young Gang Leader Su! Chief Zhao! It's been a while since you've taken this route!"

"The backyard is cleared out. As usual, the three rooms in the east wing are for the staff, and those two clean rooms on the west side are for the Escort Guards," Old Yang whispered as they walked. "Hot water is on the stove, and for dinner, we have braised meat, griddle cakes, and vegetable-tofu soup—all you can eat. The stables are at the west wall; the fodder is fresh."

Su Derong nodded and pressed two pieces of silver into Old Yang's hand. "Thank you, Uncle Yang. Keep a sharp eye out tonight; if any strangers come looking for a room, let us know."

"Don't worry, Young Gang Leader, I know the rules." Old Yang tucked the silver into his robe and turned to see to the arrangements.

The cargo crates were unloaded and stacked in the center of the backyard, covered with tarps, while Zhao Tieshan personally stood guard with two Pathfinders.

The horses were led to the stables, watered, and fed. Only then did the rest of the group disperse to wash up and eat.

Dinner was served in the main hall. Several square tables had been pushed together; the braised meat was sliced thick, the griddle cakes were charred and fragrant, and the vegetable-tofu soup was steaming.

It was a rule of the escort trade: no alcohol at the dinner table. The men ate quickly and in silence.

After the meal, Su Derong set down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a cloth, and looked at the group. "Tonight, I will take the first watch, and Master Zhao will take the second. The rest of you, stay in the courtyard if you need to move about, but do not leave the premises and do not speak loudly."

"Young Gang Leader, why must you take a watch yourself?" Zhou Yong couldn't help but ask. "The rest of us can take turns; that will be enough."

Su Derong shook his head. "Rules are rules. You should rest while you can and keep your strength up; we have a long road ahead tomorrow."

Zhou Yong opened his mouth, but said nothing more.

After dinner, the sky turned completely dark.

Two oil lamps were hung under the inn's eaves, their dim, yellow light barely illuminating half the courtyard.

Su Derong pulled over a small stool and sat just inside the inn's main threshold, his back against the doorframe, eyes closed in meditation.

This was the posture of a night watch—seemingly relaxed, yet ears tuned to every direction, ready to react to the slightest disturbance.

The two Pathfinders crouched in the shadows beside the cargo wagons, one on each side, like stone statues.

The others scattered throughout the courtyard, stretching their limbs.

A few Pathfinders finished cleaning the bowls and chopsticks, but instead of heading to their rooms, they huddled in groups of two or three under the corridor, chatting.

They spoke only of domestic trifles and things they had seen along the way, never mentioning the cargo or the route by even a single word.

This was the iron law of the escort trade: even on one's own turf, one must keep a tight lip.

Zhou Yong took off his outer jacket, revealing lean but well-defined arms.

He stood still in an open space in the courtyard, took a deep breath, and slowly assumed his stance. His arms stretched out, fingers slightly hooked, body hunched, resembling a White Ape poised to strike.

He then launched into his movements, light and agile, his shifts and turns carrying a wild, cunning edge.

The wind of his fists whistled with a faint "whoosh," clearly the result of long years of practice.

"Zhou Yong's 'White Ape Fist' is getting more and more impressive." Wang Gui watched from the side with his arms crossed, a look of approval on his honest face.

He began to stretch his own limbs, walked to another open space, sank his hips into a horse stance, and slowly pushed his palms out.

His palm technique was heavy and unadorned; each push and press was dense with power, as if he could split the clouds.

It was his family's "Cloud Splitting Palm."

A few resting Pathfinders gathered around, whispering:

"Escort Guard Zhou's fist is truly fast! Last time I saw him use it, he took down four ruffians blocking our path in a single move."

"Escort Guard Wang's palm power is what you call solid! Last year, when we were escorting, a boulder rolled down, and he shattered a rock the size of a washbasin with one strike, saving the whole wagon!"

"Hey, what do you think about the new guy, Escort Guard Chen, and his Xingyi Fist? I heard internal martial arts are mysterious; the way they generate power is different from our external style..."

Zhou Yong finished his set and flashed a grin at Chen Jianghe, though his eyes held undisguised provocation. "Well, Brother Chen, you remember what you said earlier today, right? In this business, just knowing the road and reading the tracks isn't enough. When real trouble hits, it's your fists that count."

He flexed his wrists, his knuckles popping with a faint sound. "I see you practiced internal martial arts at the academy—all about cultivating energy. I wonder if, in a real fight... you can take a beating?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the courtyard fell silent.

Chen Jianghe understood that this "sparring match" was unavoidable.

It was both a test between peers and a way to establish one's standing within this small team.

Chen Jianghe pondered for a moment, then walked over and cupped his hands. "Brother Zhou, Brother Wang, I am only a beginner, so I hope you two will offer some guidance."

"Guidance is a strong word, let's just call it an exchange." Zhou Yong's eyes brightened, and he patted Wang Gui on the shoulder. "Wang Gui, why don't you trade a few moves with Brother Chen first?"

Wang Gui nodded, walked to the open space in the courtyard, assumed the starting stance of the Cloud Splitting Palm, and said in a low voice, "Brother Chen, please."

The two men took their positions.

Wang Gui's starting stance for the Cloud Splitting Palm was unique: his palms were one in front of the other, slightly cupped, fingers naturally extended like wisps of cloud.

He moved his feet slowly, circling half a turn around Chen Jianghe, then suddenly probed with his left palm while keeping his right hidden near his ribs—an attack that was not quite an attack.

Chen Jianghe stood in the Three Body Stance, his gaze locked onto Wang Gui's shoulders.

Xingyi Fist emphasizes a calm heart, clear eyes, and unified strength.

Wang Gui made his move.

His left palm shifted from void to solid, striking directly at Chen Jianghe's right shoulder. The palm wind was gentle, yet it held a hidden, coiling force.

Chen Jianghe did not retreat but advanced instead, raising his right arm to intercept with a Splitting Fist!

Fist and palm collided, emitting a dull "slap."

Wang Gui felt a fierce, violent force penetrate his palm, causing his entire arm to go slightly numb. Secretly alarmed, he withdrew his step to change tactics.

His right palm flipped out from under his ribs like rising clouds and mist, covering Chen Jianghe's face.

Chen Jianghe twisted his waist and hips, suddenly unleashing a Crushing Fist!

This punch was fast and straight, aiming directly for Wang Gui's center. Wang Gui hurriedly brought both palms back to defend, using soft energy to neutralize the blow. The two traded moves, exchanging seven or eight strikes in the blink of an eye.

The watching Pathfinders whispered among themselves:

"Escort Guard Wang's Cloud Splitting Palm is truly elegant; there is softness within the strength!"

"Escort Guard Chen's fist is even harder; every strike sounds like it carries real power!"

"Xingyi Fist truly lives up to its reputation..."

In the arena, Wang Gui suddenly let out a soft shout. His palms struck out in a continuous series, the palm shadows overlapping like layers of clouds, completely covering Chen Jianghe's upper body.

This was his hard-trained "Three Cloud-Stacking Styles," alternating between void and solid, specifically designed to break through straightforward, violent fist techniques.

Chen Jianghe, however, remained unruffled.

He shifted his feet, his body slipping through the gaps in the palm shadows like a swimming fish. At the same time, his right fist transformed from a split into a drill, thrusting upward from below directly toward the undefended space under Wang Gui's armpit!

This change of move was extremely fast. Caught off guard, Wang Gui hurriedly lowered his elbow to block.

"Bang!"

Fist and elbow collided. Wang Gui retreated two steps before he could steady himself.

He shook his numb arm and smiled bitterly, "Brother Chen has great skill. I have lost."

Chen Jianghe withdrew his stance and cupped his fists, "Brother Wang is too kind. The soft, coiling force of your Cloud Splitting Palm has taught me a great deal."

These words were sincere, and Wang Gui's expression softened considerably. He laughed, "Brother Chen is too modest. The way you unify the strength of Xingyi Fist has truly opened my eyes."

"Let me have a go!"

Zhou Yong suddenly strode into the center of the arena.

He stared fixedly at Chen Jianghe, his mouth curling, "Brother Chen, Old Wang's palm technique is soft, and you won beautifully. I practice 'White Ape Fist,' which focuses on agility and speed. I wonder how Xingyi Fist handles a fast-fisted style?"

The atmosphere tightened slightly.

Wang Gui frowned, "Old Zhou, we agreed on a friendly spar. What are you doing..."

"It's just testing fists." Zhou Yong loosened his wrists, his fierce gaze locked onto Chen Jianghe, "Brother Chen is able to ride in the lead carriage with the Young Gang Leader, so your skills must be significant. I, Zhou Yong, have been in the escort agency for three years; it's not too much to ask for a few pointers today, is it?"

Chen Jianghe looked at Zhou Yong.

The defiance in this man's eyes was barely concealed. Did he feel Chen was too inexperienced to have earned Su Derong's favor? Or did he simply want to test his mettle?

He remained silent for a moment, then nodded, "Please, Brother Zhou, enlighten me."

Zhou Yong stopped talking, lowered his body, and darted out like an ape!

White Ape Fist was indeed swift; his fists and kicks were like the wind, focusing entirely on the upper body.

Zhou Yong's footwork was nimble, moving left and right. His fist shadows were continuous, covering all of Chen Jianghe's vital points—head, face, throat, and heart.

Chen Jianghe lowered his waist and sat into his hips, holding steady with the Three Body Stance.

While it was true that Xingyi Fist favored "hard strikes and hard advances," it was not merely about brute force.

His eyes were like lightning, precisely capturing the trajectory, angle, and intent of every punch amidst Zhou Yong's storm-like assault.

Five moves.

Ten moves.

Zhou Yong grew more alarmed the longer they fought.

He had prided himself on the extreme speed of his White Ape Fist, believing that ordinary practitioners of Bright Strength could never keep up with his rhythm.

Yet, this Chen Jianghe was defending without a single leak.

Every punch looked like it would land, yet at the very last moment, Chen would dodge by a hair's breadth or lightly deflect it with the edge of his fist or the tip of his elbow.

What shocked Zhou Yong even more was that Chen Jianghe's breathing remained steady, and his eyes remained calm.

This wasn't passive defense; this was observation and learning.

"The nerve of this guy..." Zhou Yong cursed inwardly. Changing his fist momentum, he suddenly dropped low for a sweeping leg kick, targeting Chen Jianghe's lower body!

Chen Jianghe seemed to have anticipated this. He lifted his right foot slightly to let the sweep pass, and at the same time, his left fist exploded outward like a cannon!

The Cannon Fist belonged to the element of fire—explosive and fierce.

Zhou Yong hurriedly crossed his arms to block, but the force of the punch sent his blood surging. He retreated three steps, his back slamming into a locust tree before he could barely steady himself.

He panted heavily, looking at Chen Jianghe with shifting expressions on his face.

Chen Jianghe slowly withdrew his stance and cupped his fists. "Brother Zhou's White Ape Fist is swift and agile. Had I not practiced Xingyi Fist for so long and grown accustomed to fast-paced, aggressive styles, I fear I would have been defeated long ago."

This remark offered him a graceful way out.

Zhou Yong stared at him for a few moments before suddenly bursting into a laugh, shaking his head. "A loss is a loss. Brother Chen, I, Zhou Yong, am convinced. Xingyi Fist is truly remarkable, but what's even rarer is your character—you could have won quickly, yet you sparred with me for over twenty moves just to save my face."

He walked up to Chen Jianghe and cupped his fists solemnly. "Brother Chen, I admit defeat. Please don't take my earlier offense to heart."

Chen Jianghe returned the gesture. "Brother Zhou, you are too kind. A friendly spar is meant to be this way. Without an opponent like you, I would find it hard to improve."

Zhou Yong straightened up, a sincere smile finally appearing on his face. "Done! That's what I like to hear! From now on, when we're out on the road, I'll be at ease knowing we're side by side!"

The surrounding Pathfinders also breathed a sigh of relief, laughing as they tried to smooth things over:

"Both Escort Guards have excellent skills!"

"We've truly seen something today!"

"Come on, let's go get some sleep; we have to hit the road tomorrow..."

Wang Gui leaned in, draping his arms over the shoulders of Chen Jianghe and Zhou Yong. "Let's go! I've got a bag of peanuts in my room; we'll have some tea and chat! Brother Chen, you've got to tell me all about your martial arts journey!"