Ning Yun

As Xu Qing and Zhou Wen joked around, the martial hall's front gate came into view.

"Senior Brother Zhou, we're at the martial hall." Xu Qing changed the subject, breathing out a whiff of wine as he chuckled. "That brat Liang Hu hasn't fallen asleep, has he? We made it clear to him."

Liang Hu was an honest, dull-witted farm boy.

Before Xu Qing and Zhou Wen had gone out drinking, they had specifically told him to listen for knocking at night. Half-jokingly, they had threatened him that if he dared sleep early and failed to open the door for them, he would have hell to pay tomorrow.

"With the guts he has, he wouldn't dare sleep even if you lent him three extra gall bladders." Zhou Wen curled his lip and said carelessly, "A mud-legged peasant is still a mud-legged peasant. Tell him to go east, and he won't dare go west."

"You should've seen it. I only teased him, telling him to wash my clothes, and he agreed without a second word. He didn't even dare let out a fart. If I weren't afraid Master would see and punish me, I'd really use him like a slave."

Xu Qing gave a snicker. "People like that are cheap. The more you order him around, the more obedient he becomes. One day, if you're polite to him, he'll be the one feeling uncomfortable."

"That's true." Zhou Wen patted Xu Qing's shoulder. "It's late. Come on, knock on the door and go back to sleep."

The two staggered up to the gate. Xu Qing raised his hand and knocked several times.

Xu Qing heard the knocking. Before he could react, a door to one of the side rooms in the courtyard was flung open with a bang, and a scrawny youth came jogging out.

Chen Wang had introduced him before. His name was Liang Hu, a tenant farmer's son.

Liang Hu had not dared sleep. His ears had been trained on the sounds outside the entire time.

Naturally, he had also heard Xu Qing practicing his fists in the training ground with perfect clarity.

Liang Hu did not spare Xu Qing a glance. He jogged straight over and opened the gate, his face wearing a cautious, ingratiating smile. "Senior Brother Xu, Senior Brother Zhou, you're back."

"Mm." Xu Qing gave him a sidelong look and stepped inside, tossing out an indifferent remark, "At least you know how to behave."

Zhou Wen followed behind. As he passed Liang Hu, he casually patted the boy's head as though patting an obedient dog. "All right, nothing more for you to do. Go sleep."

Liang Hu shrank his neck and answered submissively. Only after both men had gone inside did he quietly bolt the gate again.

The moment they entered, they spotted Xu Qing in the training ground.

Under the moonlight, Xu Qing was still practicing his fists. Every movement was meticulous and earnest. Sweat covered his forehead, and his clothes were soaked through, clinging tightly to his body.

Xu Qing and Zhou Wen exchanged a look, both startled.

"Oh? Still practicing?"

Zhou Wen folded his arms and watched with interest for a while before letting out a derisive laugh. "This newcomer's got some drive. We've seen plenty of people like him. When they first arrive, they're so fired up they wish they could train twelve shichen a day. They won't last three days before they wilt."

Xu Qing gave a cold snort, contempt at the corners of his mouth. "A poor brat who's never seen the world thinks learning martial arts is like fishing, that brute strength is all it takes. Martial arts are about balance between tension and release. If he trains himself into injury, he'll be too late to cry about it."

"Exactly." Zhou Wen picked up the thread. "With that body of his, he probably won't last many days. Didn't Master say it himself? Lower-middle bones. Training is wasted on him anyway."

The two traded remark after remark, their voices neither too loud nor too soft—just enough for Xu Qing to hear.

Xu Qing acted as though he had heard nothing. He did not even lift his eyelids, simply striking the wooden dummy again and again with solemn focus.

Bang, bang, bang—

Though his fist wind was still immature, every strike was steadier than the last.

Seeing that Xu Qing ignored them, Xu Qing found it pointless and curled his lip. "Let's go. Talking too much to someone like him lowers our standing."

The two put their arms around each other's shoulders and headed toward their quarters.

What neither Xu Qing nor the others knew was that someone had been standing in the shadows by the inner courtyard entrance for a long time.

His name was Ning Yun.

Ning as in unyielding even unto breaking, Yun as in rising through the clouds on level ground.

His left foot limped slightly, and his body leaned faintly to one side, yet he stood perfectly straight.

Earlier, Ning Yun had overheard Chen Wang's conversation with Master in the inner courtyard. The moment Xu Qing threw his first punch that night, he had noticed the movement.

Watching that young, unfamiliar face from afar, Ning Yun had known exactly who he was without anyone introducing him. This was the person Master had described as having "lower-middle bones, but exceptional comprehension."

As he watched the youth in the courtyard punching with all his strength, his gaze grew distant, as if he were seeing himself from years ago.

Back then, he had been the same. He rose before dawn to practice and refused to sleep even when night ran deep. When his fists split open, he wrapped them in cloth strips and kept punching. When his legs swelled from standing, he gritted his teeth and stood for another incense stick's time.

He had excellent bones, high comprehension, and the willingness to work. With Master's support, he had entered hidden force in barely half a year.

At the time, he had thought that with his two fists, he could smash through anything and change his fate.

Until the year he took the martial examinations.

He encountered a genius even stronger than himself and had his leg broken and his foot tendons severed in the arena.

He knew the other man had done it deliberately. The one who had given the order behind the scenes was Master's rival.

That man had not merely wanted to defeat him. He wanted to slap Master in the face, to ensure Ning Yun would never stand again and would never practice martial arts again.

That battle had ruined all his prospects.

Yet he had never resented Master.

Master had no sons, only one daughter, who had married and moved to the prefectural city long ago.

Over the years, Master had treated him like his own son. That bond outweighed everything else.

He did not regret entering the Zhao Family Martial Hall.

He only had regrets.

He regretted that he would never again have the chance to cleanse the sect for Master—to personally kill that vile disciple who had betrayed the school and injured Master.

Ning Yun looked at Xu Qing, his expression complicated.

The way the youth practiced his fists was like a tireless young beast—stubborn, fierce, reckless with his own life.

He watched for a long time before finally turning away and leaving without a sound, as if he had never been there.

The next day, Xu Qing's mother, Tong, came to the martial hall.

She wore a half-new set of clothes, her hair combed sleek and shining. The instant she entered, she called out with a beaming smile, "Qing'er, Mother came to see you!"

Xu Qing was chatting with several fellow disciples in the training ground. Hearing her voice, he hurried over.

"Mother, why did you come so late?" Though his mouth complained, his eyes drifted toward Tong's hands.

Tong understood. She pulled a cloth bundle from her sleeve, stuffed it into his hand, and lowered her voice. "Three taels of silver. It should be enough to last you a while. Spend it carefully. Don't be so extravagant."

Xu Qing squeezed the bundle, feeling more at ease, though he said impatiently, "I know, I know."

Tong took his hand and began muttering in a low voice. "Yesterday, I went to your Second Uncle's house to borrow money. If only you'd seen your Second Aunt's expression—it was like we owed her eight hundred taels."

The more she spoke, the angrier she became, and her voice rose despite herself. "I told her that Qing'er is learning martial arts at the Zhao Family Martial Hall now. That's a proper path, and one day he'll take the martial scholar examinations."

"But she said her nephew from her mother's family had entered the Zhao Family Martial Hall too, and that the family needed to save some money to buy meat to nourish him. What she meant was that they won't have money to lend us anymore."

Tong curled her lip, her small eyes darting around. Sure enough, she spotted a youth whose features somewhat resembled Xu Yan's.

She had seen Xu Qing before and recognized him at a glance.

She looked at Xu Qing with naked disdain and deliberately raised her voice. "Your Second Aunt's fisherman nephew—what is he supposed to be? How could he compare to you? He should piss in a puddle and look at himself."

As Xu Qing listened, his face grew increasingly dark.

It was not that he thought his mother had gone too far. He simply felt humiliated to have her say such things in front of so many fellow disciples.

"All right, all right, I get it." Xu Qing cut Tong off and pushed her toward the exit. "Go home first. Stop talking about it here."

Tong was pushed outside by him, still nagging, "Qing'er, you have to make your mother proud. Train hard, and don't let those people look down on us..."

After seeing Tong off, Xu Qing clutched the three taels of silver and stood at the gate, his face dark with storm clouds.

He had long regarded his Second Uncle's money as his own. Xu Qing going to Second Uncle's house to eat meat—wasn't that spending his, Xu Qing's, money?

Then another thought struck him: Xu Qing's apprenticeship fee had probably been begged from Xu Yan too, hadn't it? What money could a mud-legged fisherman from Blackwater Bay possibly have?

That had to be it!

A ball of fire flared in his heart. He grew even more disgusted with Xu Qing and even began to harbor resentment toward his Second Aunt, Xu Yan.

He even secretly blamed his Second Uncle, Xu Cheng, in his heart.

Instead of keeping the family's money for family, he was giving it away to outsiders—what the hell was that!