Hidden Dragon Martial Hall

[Practice a skill a hundred times, and success is sure to come]

[Coiling Dragon Stance Art: Not Yet Initiated]

[Progress: 0/100]

At Hidden Dragon Martial Hall, Lu Chen was watching Senior Brother Chen Chong demonstrate stance training when his vision suddenly blurred. Then, a transparent screen appeared before his eyes.

"Hmm?"

Lu Chen froze where he stood.

First, he was stunned. Then his pupils abruptly contracted, and his heart began pounding wildly beyond his control.

The screen hung before him, its words incomparably clear.

Whether he blinked or turned his head, those lines remained fixed in his field of vision.

It was not an illusion.

Nor was he seeing things.

"This is..."

"My golden finger?"

His Adam's apple bobbed, his breathing quickened, and an irrepressible surge of ecstasy welled up from the depths of his heart.

Late, but it had finally arrived!

Half a year ago, he had been nothing more than an utterly ordinary office worker on Earth.

Every day, he worked nine to five, squeezed onto the subway, clocked in, attended meetings, worked overtime, then returned to his rented room at night and collapsed onto his bed to scroll through his phone. Sometimes, he fantasized about suddenly becoming rich one day, or quitting his job to live a free and unfettered life.

But one day, on his way home from work, he had just crossed a zebra crossing when headlights flashed before his eyes—and then he was gone.

When he opened his eyes again, he had transmigrated to this other world and become a sixteen-year-old boy—Lu Chen.

Yet as a transmigrator, he had been remarkably unlucky.

He had not become some idle prince. He was merely a mountain village youth of humble birth.

His parents were both from Lu Family Village in Scarlet Cloud County. For generations, his family had been farmers, facing the yellow earth with their backs to the sky.

This world had no phones, no subway, no companies, nor any capitalists who crushed people until they could barely breathe.

But life here was no easier than on Earth.

If anything, it was even crueler.

The Great Zhou Dynasty had stood for more than three hundred years. On the surface, the imperial court still ruled all under heaven, but powerful clans were scattered throughout the provinces, bandits and marauders rose everywhere, and natural disasters and human calamities never ceased.

The lives of ordinary people were very cheap.

A single drought could leave an entire village without a grain to harvest.

A band of mountain bandits could turn dozens of households into piles of white bones overnight.

A single corvée order could send the able-bodied men of a family away from home for years, never to return.

For ordinary people, the most direct road to changing their fate was martial arts.

So long as one became a martial artist, even merely a low-rank one with slightly stronger vitality and blood, one could serve as a household guard for a wealthy family, escort goods for an armed escort agency, or work as a runner for the city patrol office.

Forget glory and riches—at least they could earn a bite to eat.

But the martial path also had an extremely high threshold.

As the saying went, "The poor pursue scholarship; the rich pursue martial arts."

The ten taels of silver tuition required by martial halls was a hurdle ordinary people found difficult to cross.

Fortunately, Hidden Dragon Martial Hall had launched a "Lucky Plan" this year, aiming to select promising martial talents from mountain village youths, nurture them into martial artists, and strengthen the martial hall.

Hidden Dragon Martial Hall had selected forty youths from the mountain villages in total, and Lu Chen had been fortunate enough to become one of them.

Their tuition had been waived, and the martial hall had also given them three months.

For those three months, the martial hall would provide food and lodging, as well as teach them the Way and martial arts.

There would be an assessment after three months.

Those who passed and remained would become official disciples of Hidden Dragon Martial Hall.

Those who performed exceptionally well might even catch the eye of county families and merchants, who would supply them with medicinal salves, meat, and training decoctions, giving them hope of becoming true martial artists!

In the Martial Practice Yard, Chen Chong, the inner court disciple responsible for instruction, shouted to the youths, "What I just demonstrated is the martial stance art of our Hidden Dragon Martial Hall—the Coiling Dragon Stance."

"It is the best method for nourishing vitality and blood, tempering sinews and bones, and it will also be the foundation of your future fist arts."

"Now, give it a try!"

Hearing this, the dozens of selected youths each assumed their stances and began practicing the Coiling Dragon Stance Art.

Lu Chen began practicing as well.

With the appearance of his golden finger, Lu Chen suddenly discovered that he possessed a miraculous ability.

Perfect recall!

Any martial technique or cultivation art, so long as he saw it once, he could remember it without the slightest error.

Imitating Senior Brother Chen Chong's movements, he spread his feet apart, planting the soles firmly into the ground. His waist and hips slowly coiled and turned, driving his entire spine to rise and fall with them. From afar, his backbone seemed to transform into a dormant dragon, gradually stretching its sinews and bones with each breath.

His arms formed a circle, his shoulders sank, his elbows dropped, and his palms drew inward.

With every exhale and inhale, his chest and abdomen swelled and contracted, as though thunder rumbled within...

Though he merely stood in place and moved slowly, Lu Chen felt more exhausted than after running ten li along mountain roads. Every turn of his waist and hips felt as though his muscles were being forcibly twisted apart; every rise and fall of his spine made his chest feel stifled, his breathing growing ever more hurried.

But he did not stop.

The movements in his mind were incomparably clear, like silent guides directing him to continuously adjust his posture.

By the time he completed the final movement, Lu Chen was nearly limp with exhaustion. His legs gave way, and he nearly dropped straight to the ground.

Supporting himself with his hands on his knees, he gasped for breath.

His short shirt was already soaked through with sweat. His arms were swollen with pain, his waist and hips ached heavily, and his thighs trembled faintly without stop.

"This is way too torturous!"

Lu Chen could not help but sigh.

As he panted, the transparent screen appeared before his eyes once more:

[Coiling Dragon Stance Art: Not Yet Initiated]

[Progress: 1/100]

The next moment, an indescribable sensation surged from deep within his body.

It was as if the Coiling Dragon Stance he had just practiced had been crushed apart by an invisible hand, reassembled, and finally transformed into an instinct deeply etched into his sinews and bones.

His understanding of the Coiling Dragon Stance Art had advanced by a fraction.

Unconcealable ecstasy flooded Lu Chen's eyes.

"It works!"

It really worked!

He had merely practiced it once according to his memory, yet the progress of the Coiling Dragon Stance Art had truly increased by one point.

At once, he understood the function of this golden finger.

Every practice session of his would be recorded into the system, and as long as he practiced enough times, success would surely come!

By then, the other youths had also more or less finished one round.

Some threw back their heads and collapsed directly onto the ground, their chests heaving violently. Like they had just been dragged from the water, they gaped their mouths and gasped in great lungfuls, their throats making sounds like broken bellows.

Others braced their hands against their knees and bent over, beads of sweat dripping from their chins and smashing onto the ground. Though they had only practiced the stance art once, they looked as if they had carried a hundred catties of firewood for more than ten li, unable even to straighten their waists.

The youths came from mountain villages. They normally chopped firewood, carried water, and worked the fields, so they had endured their share of hardship.

But the Coiling Dragon Stance Art seemed to squeeze out every last thread of strength hidden in their bodies. By the end of the practice, even breathing felt arduous.

For a time, no one spoke in the yard.

Only heavy panting rose and fell one after another.

The dozens of mountain village youths had arrived with traces of excitement and curiosity, but now every one of them was bedraggled and drenched in sweat.

Only then did they vaguely understand that practicing martial arts was not as simple as learning a few punches and kicks.

If they wanted to remain after three months, if they wanted to stand out among dozens of people, then they would likely have to endure such suffering every day from now on—perhaps even many times a day.