Jiang Yuan of the Silver Bone Realm

It was mid-February, yet the cold wind still cut like knives.

In the open space before the East Hall of the Baosu Marquis Residence's West Courtyard, the servants had swept the snow clean away, exposing blue-black stone bricks.

It was not yet time for martial practice, but more than twenty young disciples stood silently in three rows.

Most wore the uniform blue training outfits issued by the Marquis Residence, leather belts cinched at their waists, standing ramrod straight like spears.

The white vapor of their breaths gathered into a thin mist in the frigid air.

Two people stood before the crowd.

One was Lin Longyue, the Marquis Residence's young lady.

Today, she wore none of her signature crimson cloak, only a stone-blue satin-lined coat of silver squirrel fur. A ring of wind-fur around the collar made her chin appear all the more delicately pointed.

She stood with her hands behind her back, her calm gaze sweeping over the young people before her. There was little expression in her brows or eyes, yet the innate nobility and authority about her silently blanketed the grounds.

The other was an unfamiliar face.

He looked to be just over forty. His build was not particularly brawny, even seeming somewhat lean and compact.

His skin was a dark reddish black from years spent outdoors, his cheekbones high and his jaw square. A faint scar slanted from his left brow bone to the edge of his ear, lending him an added air of fierce valor.

Most eye-catching were his unusually thick-knuckled, heavily callused hands. They hung casually at his sides, yet seemed to contain the power to shatter mountain rock.

This man was Jiang Yuan, the newly hired guest retainer of the West Courtyard.

Half a step to Lin Longyue's side stood He Duan, instructor of the Western Courtyard Martial Hall.

This instructor wore only a dark-blue martial outfit, his face as dark and resolute as ever.

A faint silvery-white radiance flowed around him. It was the visible sign of a Silver Bone Realm martial artist whose blood and qi were abundant, whose bones had become like refined silver—a truly extraordinary presence.

Yet today, he was not the main figure. He merely stood like a green pine, his gaze more often falling upon Jiang Yuan.

That was because Jiang Yuan had reached the pinnacle of the Silver Bone Realm, far stronger than He Duan, who had only recently entered it.

At the pinnacle of the Silver Bone Realm, all two hundred and six bones had been tempered to silver, blood and qi were self-generating, and no dust could cling to the body!

Such a figure already stood high upon the martial path, having glimpsed the threshold of the "Golden Body."

Across all Yuan River Prefecture, very few had reached such a realm.

"Mr. Jiang." Lin Longyue spoke, her clear voice breaking the silence. "The West Courtyard disciples are all here. I ask that you assess the quality of their foundations."

When she addressed Jiang Yuan, she called him "Mr." rather than "instructor" or "guest retainer." Her respect was evident.

Jiang Yuan gave a slight nod, his face devoid of a smile. "Your Highness is too courteous. My Mountain-Crushing Force emphasizes breaking skill with strength, releasing force like a mountain collapse. It places particularly harsh demands on a practitioner's innate physique, blood and qi, and temperament.

"If the innate physique is poor, forcing the practice will only injure oneself. If the temperament lacks resolve, one can never achieve greatness.

"Today's bone-feeling is to see who has an affinity with my boxing art."

With that, he stepped forward and entered the crowd.

The art of feeling one's bones was no simple matter of pinching hands and feet.

Jiang Yuan came before the first youth without saying much. The five fingers of his right hand curled like hooks, pressing with lightning speed onto several major joints—the youth's shoulder and neck, spine, arms, waist, and hips.

The force at his fingertips seemed light, yet the youth's entire body trembled. His face instantly flushed red, then turned pale, while fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples.

Jiang Yuan's technique was extremely swift. In just two or three breaths, he released him, shook his head, and gave a two-word verdict. "Middling."

As though granted a pardon, the youth staggered back a step. Once he recovered, he lowered his head again, his face full of disappointment.

Jiang Yuan did not pause, continuing down the line to feel their bones.

"Inferior."

"Passable."

"Blocked sinews and channels."

"Floating blood and qi."

His judgments were concise, even harsh. The young people whose bones he had examined either looked disappointed or unconvinced.

As those iron hands fell again and again, the atmosphere on the grounds became heavy and oppressive.

Most of these West Courtyard disciples were children of the old West Courtyard servants. They had ordinarily been considered promising seedlings whom the Marquis Residence had focused on cultivating; they had never lacked food, clothing, or medicinal baths. Yet in the eyes of a Silver Bone Realm figure like Jiang Yuan, most were merely "barely satisfactory."

Lin Longyue's expression remained calm, but her gaze darkened slightly.

He Duan furrowed his brow as well. As an instructor of the Martial Practice Court, disciples with poor innate physiques naturally reflected badly upon him.

Before long, Jiang Yuan had already examined more than half of them.

At last, he stopped before a tall, slender young man.

This young man was the one who, on He Duan's orders that day, had delivered three secret manuals to Chen Lingxi.

He met Jiang Yuan's gaze without flinching, his breathing steady.

At last, a trace of faint surprise flashed through Jiang Yuan's eyes, and his movements became much more meticulous.

His five fingers slowly moved down the young man's spine, then repeatedly pressed and felt the ulnae and radii of both arms, and the tibias and fibulas of both legs.

"Mm..." Jiang Yuan pondered for a moment. "Well-proportioned bone structure, open joints, and though his blood and qi have yet to grow vigorous, they show the signs of lasting endurance. He is good material for martial practice, particularly suited to a fierce and forceful path.

"What is your name?"

The young man cupped his fists, his voice clear and bright. "In reply to Mr. Jiang, this junior is Zheng Qingya."

"Zheng Qingya..." Jiang Yuan nodded. "Are you willing to train in Mountain-Crushing Force under me?"

Delight burst into Zheng Qingya's eyes. He hurriedly bowed. "This disciple is willing! Thank you, sir, for your favor!"

A low commotion and envious sighs arose all around them.

To study martial arts under a figure at the pinnacle of the Silver Bone Realm... for any of them, that would be a heaven-sent opportunity.

Yet this opportunity had now been picked up by Zheng Qingya.

The tight line of Lin Longyue's lips eased almost imperceptibly for an instant.

He Duan's gaze toward Zheng Qingya also gained a measure of approval.

Jiang Yuan patted Zheng Qingya's shoulder, offering his preliminary acknowledgment.

He swept his gaze over the few remaining people whose bones had not yet been examined. He seemed to have little hope left and was about to say something to Lin Longyue—

Just then, soft footsteps came from around the covered corridor's corner.

A little maid in green was leading someone toward the East Hall.

The newcomer was Chen Lingxi.

He had changed into the newer indigo winter clothes bestowed by the West Courtyard. His frame remained thin, but his steps held an indescribable steadiness that had not been there ten days earlier.

The cold wind swept up the loose strands before his forehead, revealing a pair of clear, tranquil eyes.

In his hands, he carefully held a flower arrangement.

The pot was a plain fired-clay bowl without glaze, its earthy reddish yellow bearing the simple ruggedness of soil.

Within it were no precious flowers or trees, only several twisted old plum branches placed at a slant. Scattered across them were three or five winter plum buds, not yet fully open, honey-wax in color and half-translucent in petal texture, giving off a faint, cool fragrance beneath the gray-white daylight.

Beside the plum branches stood several stalks of withered yellow reed grass, along with one or two holly leaves still marked by frost.

A single narcissus stood straight at the center, delicate and beautiful, yet unyielding.

The composition was sparse, open, and quiet. Amid its desolation, it revealed an unbending vitality, strangely suited to this snow-cleared courtyard in the depths of winter.

Chen Lingxi kept his eyes lowered, his steps exceedingly light.

At first, his arrival drew little attention.

He Duan merely glanced at him, recognizing the government slave who had offered flowers in the snow that day, received the young lady's reward, and taken the Seven Forms of Ceasing War manual from him. He paid no further attention.

Most of the West Courtyard disciples were still focused on Zheng Qingya, whom Jiang Yuan had just chosen, or dejected over their own failure to be selected.

Chen Lingxi stopped beneath the corridor, waiting for the maid guiding him to step forward and announce his arrival.

Yet at the very instant he halted.

Jiang Yuan, who had been about to report the results to Lin Longyue, suddenly froze!

"Eh?"