Seven in the Morning, Three in the Afternoon (Fourth update, seeking follow-up reads!)

Tian Peng crossed his palms, left hand forward and right hand tucked under his ribs, his ten fingers slightly curled like iron hooks.

The opening stance of the Thunder-Bolt Hand is called "Thunder Hidden in Clouds"; it appears plain and unremarkable, but in reality, it stores power, ready to unleash a thunderous strike at any moment.

Chen Yuan did not move.

Standing in the Three-Body Stance, his front hand in an Eagle Catch and his back hand guarding his heart, he looked like an iron stake driven into the blue bricks.

The two stood in a stalemate for three full breaths.

Tian Peng moved first.

It was not because he lacked patience, but because he suddenly realized something.

With Chen Yuan standing in that posture, he did not reveal a single opening to exploit.

Front hand sealing the throat, back hand guarding the heart, knees slightly bent, center of gravity steady.

Continuing the standoff was meaningless.

He stomped his right foot forward; the step was incredibly heavy, the blue bricks emitting a dull "thud" as his entire sole crushed half an inch into the ground.

At the same time, his left palm struck out like a sudden clap of thunder, five fingers joined into a palm blade, thrusting straight at Chen Yuan's face.

"Thunder-Bolt Stab!"

This strike was not a slap, nor a chop; it was a stab.

The palm blade tore through the air with a sharp, whistling "hiss."

The air was sliced open by the edge of his palm, the gale reaching Chen Yuan's brow before the strike itself.

Chen Yuan kicked off with his back foot, moving forward instead of retreating.

He did not move in a straight line.

Using the dragon-turning maneuver of the Three-Body Stance, his spine twisted like a cable, his upper body leaning to dodge the edge of the palm strike while his left hand flipped out from his waist.

The Splitting Fist moved in a vertical circle, descending like an axe splitting wood, the heel of his palm slamming down hard against Tian Peng's wrist.

"Pa!"

The palm heel struck the wrist joint with a crisp, explosive crack.

Tian Peng felt his wrist go numb; the power in his entire left arm was severed in two by this strike, the force of the palm blade dissipating completely, while the blood and qi in his forearm were jolted backward.

He felt a chill in his heart as his right palm flipped out from under his ribs, fingers curled into a fist, eye of the fist facing upward, and punched toward Chen Yuan's chest.

This punch was called "Thunder Hammer," a variation of the Thunder-Bolt Hand transitioning from palm to fist; it was heavy and powerful, the wind of the fist whistling.

Chen Yuan did not retract his right hand from the Splitting Fist; instead, his left hand moved.

His left hand had been guarding his heart, but now it flipped upward—Drill Fist.

With the palm facing up and the fist spiraling, he did not block or parry, but drilled straight forward to meet Tian Peng's fist.

Fist against fist.

"Dong!"

The two fists collided with a dull, heavy thud, sounding like two ox-hide drums being struck at once.

Tian Peng's fist force was a direct, surging Clear Force, like an iron hammer smashing a door; Chen Yuan's force was a spiraling Drill Force, like a steel drill piercing through metal.

The moment the two forces met, the victor was decided—the direct force was pierced through by the spiraling force, Tian Peng's fist was forcibly knocked off-course, his center of gravity wavered, and his upper body involuntarily tilted back by half an inch.

Half an inch was enough.

Chen Yuan's right foot had already stepped between Tian Peng's feet.

Stepping into the center gate.

He did not use the Crushing Fist; instead, he bent his right elbow, and his entire forearm swept out horizontally like an iron rod—this was the "Horizontal Lean" from the wrapping Horizontal Fist.

The outer side of his forearm slammed into the center of Tian Peng's chest, the force delivered in a short, sharp burst, retracting the moment it touched, like the snap of a bowstring.

"Peng!"

The clothing on Tian Peng's chest billowed from the impact, and he retreated four steps before steadying himself.

He looked down to see a faint arm-print on his chest, his skin burning with a dull heat.

By the side of the training grounds, several guards had stopped what they were doing and gathered around.

"This newcomer has some skill; Tian Peng didn't gain an advantage in two moves."

"More than just not gaining an advantage, did you see that just now? Fist against fist, he forced Tian Peng's Thunder Hammer off-course."

"D-Grade Bone Structure? Doesn't look like it."

Tian Peng took a deep breath, the stifling sensation in his chest not yet fully dissipated.

He knew he had underestimated his opponent.

Head Fan had said that Chen Yuan had passed the test in two and a half months, and he had subconsciously assumed it was a forced breakthrough with an unstable foundation.

Two and a half months—how stable could he be?

But those two head-on collisions just now showed a stance as steady as a veteran who had been practicing for years; how could he look like someone who had just broken through?

He cast aside his underestimation, interlocking his palms once more as his finger joints cracked and popped.

Clear Force surged.

"Crackle, pop—"

The tendons and bones in Tian Peng's arms resonated in unison; from his shoulders to his fingertips, a series of explosions rang out like popping beans.

This was no ordinary activation of Clear Force, but the "Thunder Sound Arm Infusion" unique to the Thunder-Bolt Hand, pushing Clear Force to its limit to penetrate every single phalanx.

His figure suddenly became incredibly swift.

With a tap of his right foot, he closed in on Chen Yuan like a shadow. His left palm struck for the face, his right palm pierced toward the ribs—both palms launched simultaneously, each faster and heavier than the last—the Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms, a continuous, overlapping assault!

"Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap!"

Palm shadows fluttered, and the force of the wind scattered in all directions.

This set of Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms was the signature technique of the Thunder-Gallop Martial Hall; the twelve strikes flowed without end, each faster and heavier than the one before.

By the sixth strike, the sound of the palm wind carried the faint, muffled rumble of rolling thunder.

Chen Yuan's method of response changed.

He had met the first two strikes head-on, but now that Tian Peng's palm technique had fully unfolded, he stopped blocking entirely.

His footwork came alive.

The Chicken Leg Footwork of the Three-Body Stance emphasized "lifting the foot low, planting the foot with roots." At this moment, he reduced his stride to the bare minimum, sliding almost flush against the ground.

When Tian Peng's palm slashed over, he shifted three inches to the left; when Tian Peng's palm thrust forward, he yielded two inches to the right.

Every step landed exactly on the transition point of Tian Peng's palm changes, not a fraction more or less, letting the edge of the palms graze past his lapels.

His positioning was slick.

The few guards on the sidelines exchanged glances.

They had sparred with Tian Peng before; once the Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms were unleashed, very few could rely on footwork alone to evade them all.

The usual method was to block a few hits and find an opening to counter, but this Chen Yuan was not following the conventional path at all.

His movement wasn't random; every step seemed to anticipate exactly where Tian Peng would strike next.

"Prediction," an older guard whispered. "He's reading Tian Peng's shoulders."

The other guards looked closely, and sure enough—before every strike, Tian Peng's shoulder would sink ever so slightly.

This sinking motion was so fast it was almost imperceptible, yet Chen Yuan's body began to move the very instant Tian Peng's shoulder dipped, staying a fraction faster than the palm wind itself.

Tian Peng realized it too.

He grew increasingly frustrated—eight of the twelve strikes had been thrown, and he hadn't even touched the hem of Chen Yuan's clothes.

What infuriated him even more was that while Chen Yuan was maneuvering, he still found the time to counterattack.

Just as his ninth strike was halfway through, Chen Yuan suddenly stopped dodging. He planted his right foot and brought his left hand up from the flank—Cannon Fist.

Cannon Fist belonged to the element of fire, striking like a cannonball leaving the chamber.

Chen Yuan's fist wasn't aimed at Tian Peng's face or chest, but at the elbow joint of the arm currently executing the ninth strike.

The fist landed exactly one inch above the point of the elbow, perfectly severing the force-generating path of the Thunder-Gallop Palm.

"Bang!"

Tian Peng's ninth strike was cut short halfway; the power in his entire arm was severed, and it hung limply at his side.

His face flushed a deep red.

Nine of the twelve strikes had been thrown, and three had been interrupted by counterattacks.

The Thunder-Bolt Hand emphasized "a single, continuous breath." The greatest strength of this chain-palm technique was that once unleashed, it was like rolling thunder, unstoppable; its greatest weakness was that once interrupted, the entire rhythm fell into chaos.

He was in total disarray now; he didn't know whether to throw the tenth strike, the rhythm for the eleventh was lost, and the twelfth was a distant dream.

What made it even more humiliating was that this was all happening under the eyes of his colleagues.

When he passed his assessment half a month ago, these guards had all sparred with him and knew his Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms were not to be trifled with.

Yet now, he hadn't even touched his opponent's clothes, and his own elbow had been intercepted by a single punch.

A newcomer who had just passed the gate, with D-Grade Bone Structure, after only two and a half months—how?

Tian Peng gritted his teeth, bloodshot veins appearing in the whites of his eyes.

He suddenly dropped his stance for the Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms, pressed his palms downward, and his entire aura shifted abruptly.

He was going to get serious.

The Thunder-Bolt Hand consisted of more than just the Twelve Thunder-Gallop Palms; there was a set of techniques he rarely used, called the "Nine Thunder-Motion Styles."

This was the true inheritance of the Thunder-Gallop Martial Hall—fierce, violent, and lethal in every move.

They were usually forbidden in assessment spars because once unleashed, they were hard to pull back, and accidents were prone to happen.

But he couldn't care about that anymore.

He stomped his right foot, causing a hairline crack to appear in the blue brick, and launched himself forward like a thunderbolt.

He swung his right arm in a full arc, fingers curled into a fist with veins bulging on the back of his hand, and smashed it down toward the top of Chen Yuan's head. This punch, known as "Thunder Cleaves Five Mountains," was the opening move of the Nine Thunder-Motion Styles. It was heavy and powerful, the wind of the strike whistling as if a muffled thunderclap were pressing down from above.

"Enough. This is just a spar; stop at the limit."

A deep voice exploded over the training grounds like a thunderbolt.

Tian Peng's fist stopped abruptly in mid-air, less than a foot from the top of Chen Yuan's head.

The lingering force of the punch still whistled, blowing the loose hair on Chen Yuan's forehead.

Fan Dajiang walked over from the edge of the grounds. His pace was not fast, yet every step felt as if it were treading on Tian Peng's heartbeat.

"The Nine Thunder-Motion Styles are for killing, not for testing newcomers."

Fan Dajiang stood still, his gaze indifferent as he looked at Tian Peng. "Withdraw your fist."

Tian Peng's chest heaved violently, the bloodshot veins in his eyes yet to fade.

He glanced at Chen Yuan, who remained as composed as ever, his breathing not even ruffled.

Tian Peng gritted his teeth, pulled back his fist, and took two steps back. He lowered his head and cupped his hands. "It was Tian Peng who overstepped. Please punish me, Chief."

Fan Dajiang did not respond to him, turning instead to Chen Yuan.

"Your foundation in stance training is very solid. Standing in the Three-Body Stance without moving a muscle—such composure is rare among the restless youth."

Chen Yuan smiled faintly. "I am ashamed, sir. If Brother Tian had fought for real, I certainly would have been no match for him."

He could not hold back his strength during the spar, but he could hold back his tongue afterward.

He did not want to offend anyone right after arriving.

Sure enough, once these words were spoken, Tian Peng's expression softened considerably, and he took up the thread:

"Brother Chen's skills are extraordinary. If I hadn't brought out my signature moves, I truly would have been helpless."

His perception of Chen Yuan improved.

When out in the world, face is a mutual thing.

Fan Dajiang's estimation of Chen Yuan rose even higher; his kung fu was solid, and he knew how to handle social nuances. He was more than qualified to be a guard.

He smiled faintly. "Chen Yuan, you have passed. You start your shift tomorrow. The monthly pay is seven taels; your living quarters and specific duties will be arranged shortly."

Chen Yuan withdrew his stance and cupped his hands. "Many thanks, Venerable Fan."

He then followed Fan Dajiang out of the training grounds.

The night breeze drifted through the corridor, carrying the faint scent of unknown flowers from the garden.

The gazes of several guards followed his back—some curious, some admiring, and a point or two of scrutiny.

His steps were steady, his expression unchanged.

Fan Dajiang entered the storeroom, retrieved a set of guard uniforms and a waist token for Chen Yuan, and instructed:

"When you come tomorrow, change into the uniform and bring the token. For your first time, you'll be on the morning shift, from the Hour of the Dragon to the Hour of the Goat (7:00 AM to 3:00 PM). Remember to arrive at the courtyard before the Hour of the Dragon to assemble and receive your specific assignments."

Chen Yuan took them, feeling the material, which was actually better than what he was wearing. He sighed at how wealthy these people were.

He nodded in agreement. "Understood, Chief."

Fan Dajiang nodded.

"The Li Family has many venerables. I am responsible for the security of the residence, so the workload is not very heavy. We operate on a three-shift rotation.

In your spare time, you can practice martial arts on the training grounds; sparring with the other guards is also quite good.

Additionally, you get four days of rest per month. The monthly pay is issued at the end of each month. For this month, we will settle it based on the actual days worked. Any problems with that?"

"No problems." Chen Yuan naturally had no objections.

This job was already quite conscientious. Eight hours of work a day, and judging by the looks of the people on the training grounds, he could slack off for at least four of them. Usually, he would just be patrolling the courtyard, and basically, no petty thieves would dare to cause trouble at the Li residence.

If something truly went wrong, his first choice would be to run.

After leaving the Li residence, Chen Yuan hurried toward Huo Academy.

Running here and there for all this, he hadn't even eaten yet!