Meeting Cheng Lianshan

Early the next morning, after the two of them had eaten breakfast, Wang Chong led Chen Jing through the main streets and narrow alleys until they arrived before a quiet, secluded lane.

On the blue-brick wall at the mouth of the lane, a wooden plaque had been nailed up, with the three characters "Deer Cry Alley" written on it.

On both sides of the lane were black-tiled roofs and white walls, with branches and leaves from the various courtyards poking their heads over the walls. At the end of the lane stood an imposing mansion.

Its main gate was painted vermilion, two stone beasts stood at the entrance, and above the lintel hung an ebony plaque inscribed with the words "Lianshan Martial Arts Hall."

Wang Chong stepped forward and knocked.

With a creak, the door opened a crack.

A young manservant poked his head out and looked the two of them up and down.

"Are you here to learn martial arts?"

Wang Chong had told Chen Jing about the rules of Lianshan Martial Arts Hall.

The martial arts hall did recruit disciples from outside.

But the apprenticeship fee alone cost ten taels of silver, and the monthly tuition was another five taels. In a year, that came to seventy taels.

Just that enormous expense alone shut poor families outside the door.

At Butcher Zhang's pork shop, rising before dawn and working past dark for a month only earned five to ten taels of silver.

If Instructor Wang had not helped him out, and if Chen Jing had not had the system at his side, he likewise would not have had the confidence to step over this threshold.

"I'm looking for Old Master Cheng. I'm an old acquaintance of his."

"My name is Wang Chong."

The manservant went in to report. Very soon, he returned, wearing a warm smile, opened the door, and invited the two of them inside.

They passed through a corridor and by the front courtyard.

Chen Jing saw a broad, open training ground.

On the grounds were stone locks, wooden racks, and sabers, spears, swords, and halberds. A dozen or so men were holding stances under the supervision of a resolute-looking young man.

Judging by the form of those stances, it was precisely the Fierce Tiger Stance.

Chen Jing immediately understood in his heart. The reason Wang Chong had brought him to Lianshan Martial Arts Hall was not only because Cheng Lianshan had been his centurion back then.

It was even more because the Cheng family's martial arts hall taught the martial arts of the border army lineage, stemming from the same source as the Fierce Tiger Stance he practiced.

He did not need to expend effort switching to a new path.

He only had to keep walking down this road.

Very soon, the two of them were led into the main hall of the inner courtyard.

Chen Jing lifted his eyes and swept a glance over the room.

He saw a middle-aged man of about fifty seated in the hall.

His temples were slightly flecked with white, but his complexion was ruddy, his frame was burly, and as he sat there, he was as unmoving as a mountain, his presence extremely powerful.

Judging by Chen Jing's current eyesight, this man's presence was not at all inferior to that Green-Clad Officer of the Six Gates, Li Dingfang. It was only that he lacked a few degrees of sharp, cold severity, and had a few more degrees of steady, weighty composure.

Seated beside the man was a woman.

She was gentle, graceful, and dignified, with the bearing of a great household.

Beside them stood a man and a woman, two young people.

The woman had bright eyes and white teeth, vigorous and radiant.

The man had a tall, straight figure and a cold, stern face. He bore some resemblance to the middle-aged man, and there was a faint arrogance in his expression.

There was also an old steward with graying hair standing respectfully to the side, hands lowered.

As soon as Wang Chong entered, he cupped his fists, and a rare smile appeared on his face.

"Greetings, Centurion Cheng. After so many years, your bearing remains as splendid as ever."

"This is a small token from my wife. Please accept it with a smile, Centurion."

He handed the flower pastries and the picked, dried tea leaves he had brought with him to the steward at the side.

Cheng Lianshan laughed heartily, his voice like a great bell.

"You little rascal Wang, why call me Centurion? That makes us sound distant. Just call me Old Cheng like before."

"You haven't come to see me in several years. Come on, tell me, what wind blew you here?"

Cheng Lianshan had come from the army and was used to speaking frankly and directly.

Wang Chong did not beat around the bush either. He said straightforwardly, "Old Cheng, I found a good martial-arts seedling in Shuang'an Town and brought him here for you to have a look."

Hearing this, Chen Jing stepped forward at just the right moment and paid his respects to the two of them.

"This junior is Chen Jing. Greetings, Old Master Cheng, Madam Cheng."

Cheng Lianshan sized Chen Jing up a few times.

His features were regular, his figure tall and straight.

After Chen Jing's stance technique reached major accomplishment, his sinews and bones had stretched open as well. Standing there, he brimmed with vigor and spirit, like a White Wax Pole planted in the ground—upright and proper, not leaning a hair to either side.

"You want me to take him in?"

Cheng Lianshan looked at Wang Chong. "Has he practiced stance work?"

Wang Chong said, "He's trained with me in the militia for less than half a year."

"Little Jing, demonstrate for the master and madam."

Chen Jing did not act shy. He immediately assumed the opening posture of the Fierce Tiger Stance.

The moment the stance frame formed, his entire aura abruptly changed. From left to right, he took eight rapid steps—tap, tap, tap, tap.

Every step held a different form and spirit. His spine rose and fell like winding mountain ranges, his blood and qi surging like the rise and fall of tides.

His feet stepped on the blue bricks, each rise and fall heavy and steady, as though he were a fierce tiger slowly prowling through a dense forest.

Cheng Lianshan's eyes lit up, and he nodded again and again.

"Good. The frame is very pure, not practiced into dead rigidity. It already has a few hints of the tiger's form."

"To reach major accomplishment in half a year, I imagine you didn't encounter a bottleneck. Your aptitude is quite good."

Wang Chong laughed.

"This kid does have some talent, and he comes from a poor background, so he practices extremely hard. He reached major accomplishment without ever soaking in medicinal baths or taking Blood-Replenishing Powder."

"Only before the New Year, he killed a wave of wandering bandits with me, and the My Lords from Six Gates bestowed Blood-Qi Pills. He ate two."

This time, Cheng Lianshan's pupils abruptly contracted.

"Truly?"

The expressions of the young man and woman beside Cheng Lianshan also changed slightly at the same time.

That young man had originally only swept his peripheral vision over Chen Jing, but now he could not help turning his face over and looking at him seriously.

A few more traces of seriousness also appeared in the woman's gaze.

As the saying went, the poor pursued letters, the rich pursued martial arts—it was not said without basis.

For the disciples of their martial hall, once their stance work entered minor accomplishment, and they punched every day to train their strength, they had to start using medicinal baths and Blood-Qi Powder as support.

Only this way could they rapidly increase their blood, qi, and strength.

And what this consumed was bright, white silver.

However, even with resources to aid them, only those disciples whose aptitude and comprehension were outstanding, and who had not gotten stuck at a bottleneck, could possibly train the Fierce Tiger Stance to major accomplishment within half a year.

Far more people were like Wang Chong, sinking into a bottleneck midway through their martial path, and once stuck, stuck for a lifetime.

But this kid before them had never soaked in medicinal baths and had never eaten Blood-Replenishing Powder. Relying only on two Blood-Qi Pills, he had forced the Fierce Tiger Stance to major accomplishment within half a year.

Such aptitude, placed in any martial hall in Green Mountain City, would be considered first-rate.

Facing Cheng Lianshan's gaze, Chen Jing said respectfully, "I would not dare deceive Master Cheng."

Cheng Lianshan threw his head back and laughed, saying "good" three times in a row.

He asked Chen Jing again, "Have you practiced any fist techniques?"

"No. I've only practiced the spear techniques' chops, sweeps, thrusts, and stabs with Instructor Wang, along with a few spear forms."

Cheng Lianshan smiled, not minding in the slightest.

"No matter. Qingshi, go and test his strength."

The young man beside him bowed. "Yes."

Wang Chong had once told Chen Jing that Cheng Lianshan had a son named Cheng Qingshi, who had inherited his mantle.

From the look of things now, it was this cold, stern young man before him.

Cheng Qingshi came to the middle of the hall and cupped his fist toward Chen Jing.

His calm eyes carried a few traces of indifference.

"Little Brother Chen, we'll exchange one punch and test your strength. Attack with all your power. My foundation is above yours."

Chen Jing could tell.

Although this young master of the Cheng family had not deliberately put on airs, that arrogance in his bones was still obvious.

Cheng Qingshi stopped three steps away from Chen Jing and assumed the posture of the Fierce Tiger Stance. His stance frame was deeper and heavier than Chen Jing's.

His body sank slightly, his spine like a bow, his whole person like a fierce tiger crouched low, waiting to pounce.

Although Chen Jing had never learned fist techniques, Wang Chong had explained to him the skills of punching and issuing force.

So-called taking off the spear to make a fist.

The straight punch and the spear thrust shared the same principle of issuing force. Both required power to rise from the ground, the waist to twist and the hips to turn, sending the fist suddenly stabbing out like a long spear.