Hard Training

A month later, in Big Stone County, Five-Peace Ward, within the Huo Family Martial Arts School.

Early in the morning, Zhao Feng entered the martial arts school's front courtyard. A sparse handful of disciples were already practicing their punches there.

After a month here, he had not even learned all the disciples' faces. The martial arts school maintained over thirty disciples year-round. Among them were four inner disciples qualified to enter and leave the rear courtyard, around ten registered disciples, and the rest were apprentices whose faces constantly changed.

Those who left had all failed to break through and went away hanging their heads in dejection; those who arrived were all brimming with excitement and hope. Then the cycle repeated without end.

When they saw him arrive, only two people greeted him. One was the quiet youth from his batch, Chu Fan, two years younger than him. The other was the dark-skinned Wu Tiezhu, one year younger.

Zhao Feng nodded to them, then began loosening his muscles and bones, thoroughly warming up and stretching every muscle and joint from his arms to his back, legs, and waist.

Then he leaped onto the Plum Blossom Stakes and skillfully assumed his stance.

As time passed, nearly a quarter of an hour went by before he knew it. A light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. From only a few breaths the first time to a full quarter of an hour now, the hardships in between were beyond words to outsiders.

[Eight Extremes Stake Skill, Beginner (130/500)]

Gaining only this much progress in a month was far from ideal. At this rate, how could he possibly break through within two more months? Panic stirred in his heart.

The progress for this stake skill was unlike archery, where completing a full shot gained one point of progress. Its growth was completely irregular.

Zhao Feng drew a deep breath, cast aside all distracting thoughts, and focused wholly on his training.

He did not stop cultivating until noon.

At that time, people from the kitchen came out and gave every disciple two cornbread buns. The so-called included meal meant two cornbread buns every noon. Even so, this was the sole exception among all the martial arts schools in the county city.

"Junior Brother Chu, here." Wu Tiezhu gave one of his cornbread buns to Chu Fan.

It was like this every day. Of the three of them, Chu Fan's family circumstances were the worst. He had fled here from elsewhere with his mother, and the two depended on each other for survival. Sometimes they ate only one meal a day and had no dinner at all. Thus, at noon, the honest Wu Tiezhu would give him one of his cornbread buns. Meanwhile, Chu Fan fought to help wealthy disciples who disdained eating cornbread buns with their chores. Every apprentice was assigned some miscellaneous tasks at the martial arts school. Perhaps he could earn one or two cornbread buns that way. Of course, competition for such work was fierce as well. There were many poor disciples in the school, all scrambling to work for the wealthy disciples in hopes of getting a few more cornbread buns.

"Senior Brother Wu, thank you," Chu Fan said quietly.

Zhao Feng squatted in a corner and quickly finished his two cornbread buns. He was no indiscriminate do-gooder; he could barely look after himself, let alone others. Training consumed a great deal of his vitality and blood, and these two cornbread buns could not replenish it at all. Therefore, he ate meat once every two days at night. Fortunately, the extra ten taels of silver were enough for rent and meat for the time being.

He trained until dark before returning from the martial arts school to his home in the Third Northern Ward of the outer city. It was a row of houses beside the river. He lived in the easternmost room, with slightly fetid river water before it and a stretch of collapsed ruins behind it.

Few people came here. Zhao Feng had spent several days sleeping amid the stench in the cart inn before the broker found him this place.

The other neighbors in this row were working folk as well—small vendors and laborers who made their living through brute strength. The monthly rent was only eighty copper coins. The conditions were poor, but it was cheap.

Zhao Feng took a paper-wrapped roast goose from his robe and gnawed at it in great mouthfuls. For replenishing and strengthening vitality and blood, beef was naturally the best meat. But beef was too expensive, so Zhao Feng only bought some occasionally. His everyday meat consisted mainly of chicken, duck, and pork. Even that was a life like an immortal's.

"The progress is too slow. I'll try eating meat every day." Zhao Feng could clearly feel the effect meat had on increasing the stake skill's progress. The extent of its advancement was noticeably different when he had meat to eat and when he did not. So he no longer intended to be frugal. He decided that he had to eat meat every day. He still had over seven taels of silver on hand, enough to eat meat daily for a while.

"This open ground behind the house is suitable for practicing archery. Too bad I don't have a bow and arrows."

His archery remained at:

[Minor Accomplishment (265/1000)]

To avoid arousing suspicion, he had not brought his father's bow and arrows with him. As for having a bow and arrows made, he currently lacked the funds. Fortunately, he had no need for them at present.

There were shops in the county city that forged weapons. He would wait until he had enough silver.

Early the next morning, he did not go to the martial arts school. Instead, he went to the weaving workshops in the southern outer city.

The day before, his aunt had sent word for him to come see her.

At the Treasure Brocade Workshop, his aunt Zhao Youfang and Qiao'er were working—one at a loom, the other mending clothes. Bolts of cloth and garments were piled beside them like mountains.

Both their eyes were red from staying up late, yet smiles appeared on their faces when they saw Zhao Feng.

"Cousin!" Qiao'er called out.

Over the past month, Zhao Feng had visited several times and told her storybook tales. The two had become much closer. Seeing the needle wounds covering his cousin's hands, he frowned.

"Feng'er, take these!" Zhao Youfang took two boiled eggs and over a dozen copper coins from her robes and tried to stuff them into Zhao Feng's hands. Her nephew had come to the county city to learn martial arts but could not stay with her, his aunt, and she had always felt guilty about it.

"I can't take them. I still have money!" Zhao Feng hurriedly refused. He truly did have money, but unable to reveal how much he possessed, he felt reluctant for the first time.

"Why be polite with your aunt? Learning martial arts costs a lot. You need to eat more meat, so you'll have strength."

Zhao Youfang forced them upon him. Zhao Feng could not refuse, but then he caught sight of the wounds on her arm, and his heart sank. "Aunt, is Uncle... still treating you well?"

"Fine, fine!" Zhao Youfang replied, her expression unnatural and her gaze evasive.

Zhao Feng narrowed his eyes, and a flicker of anger rose in his heart. Then he drew a deep breath.

Seeing Qiao'er staring at the boiled eggs in his hand and drooling, he gave her one without another word.

Seeing Qiao'er eat so happily made him feel somewhat better. Senior Brother Wei had said that once he broke through to Manifest Force, he could take on side work. At that time, he could openly support his aunt and Qiao'er.

"Cousin, you didn't finish telling me the story of Xu Xian and White Lady last time. Tell me more, please?" Qiao'er pleaded sweetly.

"Alright!"

Zhao Feng told the tale of White Lady while Qiao'er embroidered and listened with rapt attention. Once he had finished a portion of the story, Zhao Feng took his leave.

Qiao'er saw him out of the embroidery workshop. "Cousin, the storybooks you tell are so much fun. It's a pity I can't read. I can't understand storybooks by myself."

"Do you want to study?" Zhao Feng asked. The Great Yan Dynasty did not prohibit women from studying or practicing martial arts.

"I do. I can't even understand the account books if I can't read. The steward often says I'm lazy and gives me lots of work," Qiao'er said aggrievedly.

Zhao Feng took Qiao'er's words to heart. As he turned past the mouth of the alley, four or five men dressed in black swaggered over.

Qiao'er hurriedly pulled Zhao Feng aside.

"Black Tiger Gang?" The moment Zhao Feng saw their clothing, he became alert.

"Well, well, isn't this Qiao'er?" one of the men, who had a large birthmark on his face, said as he looked at Qiao'er with a lewd expression.

"Leopard Lord," Qiao'er replied in a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum, lowering her head.

"Qiao'er, want to enter the inner city? Come have some fun in the inner city with your Leopard Lord?" the birthmarked man said with a chuckle.

Qiao'er's body trembled even more violently.