Settling New and Old Scores Together

"True enough."

Liu Dagang nodded and lifted his teacup for another sip.

He knew exactly what kind of person his son was. Relying on his father's position as village chief, the boy had swaggered through Green Mountain Village and done no shortage of bastardly things.

But the poor hunters and farmers of Green Mountain Village, wary of his status as village chief, had never dared resist.

And over the years, he had handled some business for the town involving trafficking people and collecting taxes. He held a measure of real authority, and whenever the villagers saw him, they went around him.

Thinking of this, he put his mind at ease.

He rose and paced to the window, pushing open the wooden shutters as he looked out over the village, silver-gray beneath the moonlight.

Several dozen low earthen houses lay quietly sprawled in the night. Only one or two windows still leaked faint light.

His gaze slowly swept across those rooftops, as though taking stock of his own inventory.

Under the moonlight, Liu Dagang's eyes turned deep and greedy, and a faint smile slowly rose at the corners of his mouth.

In a little while, once the weather warmed further, the town brothel would be bringing in another batch of newcomers.

He had already agreed on a price with the brothel manager. As long as he could send over the few young women in the village who were decent-looking enough, he would be paid by the head. It would be another sizable haul.

The last batch he had sent over had earned him a full thirty taels of silver.

The night wind poured in through the window, making the oil lamp's flame sway several times and casting flickering shadows across his fleshy face.

Midnight.

Moonlight spilled in through the window, and the patch of light on the floor had shifted from one rectangular spot to another.

The oil lamp's wick had been trimmed again and again. More than half the oil had burned away, and the flame had become thin and wavering.

Feng Chen still held the Tiger Stance, utterly motionless.

Moonlight fell across him, his shadow cast against the earthen wall behind him without the slightest tremor, like a statue carved into it.

His breathing was long and steady. His thighs trembled, and hunger was beginning to gnaw at his stomach again, but his will was firmer than it had been that afternoon.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist proficiency increased by one.

Ding-dong, Tiger Fist has reached the Major Mastery Realm. Please check, Host.

A surge of insight roiled through his mind.

The insights into Major Mastery Tiger Fist were more than twice as profound as they had been at Minor Mastery. Not only had the details of the stance arts climbed another hundred-foot pole, every move in the entire Tiger Fist set fused together in that instant!

The punching trajectory of Tiger Probes with Its Claws and the angle at which the fingertips exerted force; the degree of waist-and-hip rotation in Black Tiger Rips Out the Heart, and the explosive force at the instant the fist struck its target;

The turning whip punch and footwork coordination of Tiger Sweeps Its Tail; the chained-move transitions and breathing rhythm of Tiger Roars Through the Mountain Forest!

Every move was practiced countless times in the depths of his consciousness, turning into muscle memory.

Feng Chen closed his eyes and absorbed the wave of insight before opening them.

The instant his eyes opened, a sharp glint seemed to flash through his pupils, made especially clear beneath the moonlight.

He withdrew from the stance, straightened up, drew a deep breath, and hurled a punch forward.

He did not deliberately hold back this punch. His fist smashed through the air with a dull bang.

It was as if the air itself had exploded beneath that punch, letting out a brief, muffled wail.

The current stirred by his fist wind brushed the oil lamp's flame on the table. The flame jolted violently, nearly going out, before trembling back upright.

Feng Chen lowered his head to look at his fist. Its joints stood out clearly beneath a layer of firm muscle.

The muscle lines in his arm were even more distinct than they had been at dusk. Beneath the moonlight, his biceps and forearm muscles traced a smooth, powerful curve.

He threw another punch, faster and fiercer. With a flicker of his arm, his fist had already smashed into the air with another soft bang.

He was a little stronger than before.

Arrowsmanship Perfection and Basic Fist Technique Perfection had certainly improved his physical condition considerably, but those improvements had been scattered and fragmented.

Tiger Fist was different. It was a complete system: the stance established the foundation, the fist forms trained the exertion of force, and inner and outer came together to twist all the strength in the body into a single rope.

With the same physical condition, the power unleashed through Tiger Fist was simply not something that could be mentioned in the same breath.

And now that Tiger Fist had reached the Major Mastery Realm, he was only one step away from breaking into the Martial Artist Realm.

Yet from receiving the manual that afternoon until now, only half a day and one night had passed.

Feng Chen sighed inwardly. If not for the Rapid Mastery talent, he had no idea how many years it would have taken him to train Tiger Fist to this point on his own.

He withdrew his fist and stood still, calming his breath before turning and leaving the room.

In the main hall, the oil lamp was still lit, its flame no larger than a bean as it barely held open a small circle of dim yellow light.

Lin Qing'er was curled up in a chair, her legs drawn up beneath her skirt, her head bobbing little by little like a drowsy sparrow.

Moonlight leaked through the half-shuttered window behind her, shining on her pale blue new clothes and revealing even the fine weave of the cloth.

Feng Chen softened his steps, but Lin Qing'er still raised her head groggily. Her eyelids were heavy, and she mumbled something indistinctly.

Feng Chen reached out and patted her shoulder, saying softly, "Qing'er, if you're sleepy, go to bed. I'll sleep soon too."

Lin Qing'er rubbed her eyes and gave a long yawn. When she finished, she wiped the tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. She looked up at Feng Chen, her voice still thick with sleep. "Husband, have you finally finished cultivating?"

Feng Chen nodded. "Mm, I'm done cultivating. Go sleep. You don't need to wait for me."

"Mm, all right."

Lin Qing'er yawned again and used the chair back to steady herself as she stood. Her legs had likely gone numb from being curled up too long, and she swayed when she rose. Only after steadying herself did she slowly make her way toward the bedroom.

At the doorway, she looked back at him once more before turning and gently closing the door.

Before long, the soft rustle of bedding came from inside the room, and then all was quiet.

Feng Chen did not follow her to bed. Instead, he went out into the courtyard.

The moon still hung overhead, large and round, its silvery-white light illuminating everything in the yard with perfect clarity.

He lifted a bucket from the corner by the wall, walked to the water vat, scooped several ladles of cold water, then raised the bucket and poured it over his head.

Icy well water cascaded from head to toe, making his whole body shudder.

Droplets streamed down from his hair, over his cheeks and shoulders, washing across the firm muscles of his arms before finally dripping from his fingertips.

The heat and exhaustion were washed away by a layer beneath that bucket of cold water, and his mind cleared at once.

He stood in the middle of the courtyard, wiped the water from his face, and raised his head to look at the huge full moon.

The moonlight clearly illuminated his handsome face, as handsome as all you mighty readers, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, while the light in his eyes gradually turned cold.

He was not going to sleep yet, because there were still two things to do.

First, after cultivating, he was starving!

Second, Tiger Liu had already been dealt with. His corpse had been thrown beneath a steep slope deep in the mountains, and by this hour, the wild beasts had probably treated it to a feast.

But to pull out weeds, one had to pull out the roots, or those behind them would stir up trouble again. That old one had to be dealt with too.

That old man was Tiger Liu's father, Liu Dagang!

Feng Chen had quite a few memories concerning Liu Dagang.

Back then, relying on his position as Green Mountain Village's chief, Liu Dagang had treated his father in this life with great unfairness.

The several mu of good farmland that should have been allotted to their family according to village rules had been forcibly assigned to someone else by Liu Dagang under trumped-up excuses. Their family was left with only a few mu of dry hillside land.

That alone would have been one thing, but what sent a chill through his heart was another old matter.

That year, Feng Chen's parents in this life had planted a season of crops. They had barely survived the spring drought and insect infestations, and when the harvest was near, the wheat heads hung heavy, ready to fill their rice jar at last.

That night, Liu Dagang brought several people and quietly crept along the field ridges. In a single night, they stole clean the several mu of crops that were about to be harvested.

They did it cleverly. They did not cut everything down, leaving one patch here and another there, making it look as though wild boars had ravaged the fields.

When Feng Chen's father in this life went to the fields and saw that sight, he dropped onto the ridge on the spot, his face turning white. That had been the whole family's hope of surviving the winter.

It was because of that calamity that the family's grain could not last through winter, forcing Feng Chen's parents in this life to take the desperate risk of hunting deep in the mountains.

During one hunt, they slipped and fell down a scree slope. His father broke his spine, while his mother suffered internal injuries. By the time they were carried back from the mountains, both had only a breath left.

They had no money for treatment and no medicine for healing. After lingering for more than half a month, the two passed away one after the other.

Tracing it back to the root, Liu Dagang was the instigator behind his parents' deaths.

And Tiger Liu robbing prey and beating people was merely a copy of his father's ugly face.

New grudges and old hatred—perfect. Today, he would settle them all together.