A Thousand Miles a Day

This woman was his wife in this life, Lin Qing'er.

He had spent all the savings his parents had left behind!

Two taels of silver, paid in the town.

They called it buying, but in truth, her impoverished family could no longer survive. They had sold their daughter to someone willing to pay for a wife, giving her a way to live.

Lin Qing'er had delicate features, curved brows, and wore a coarse linen dress covered in patches upon patches, its original color long beyond recognition.

Her hair was dry and yellowed, tied behind her head with an old strip of cloth, loose strands falling around her ears.

Her little face was waxy yellow from years of hunger, her chin sharp and pointed.

Yet in his memories, ever since the day she had been bought home, she had always treated him well. She did all the work around the house—washing clothes, cooking, cleaning—busy from dawn to dusk without a single complaint.

Seeing Feng Chen awake, Lin Qing'er hurried to his side, crouched down, and looked up at him with concern in her eyes. "Husband, you're awake. Does your body still hurt? Are you feeling better?"

Feng Chen smiled. "Much better. Qing'er, you've worked hard these past few days."

While he had been unconscious, Lin Qing'er had not only cared for him and managed the household, but also tended to their two mu of meager farmland.

They grew drought-resistant coarse grains. With a good harvest, they could barely scrape through the winter; with a bad one, they could only tighten their belts.

She had held up the entire household by herself.

"Husband, it's nothing. This is what I should do."

Lin Qing'er's voice was soft. After a pause, she sighed. "But you... if Tiger Liu and his people try to take our things again next time, just let them take them. We mustn't fight him over it."

Feng Chen drew a quiet breath and nodded. "Qing'er is right. Let's eat lunch first."

He was truly starving, his belly nearly pressed against his spine.

"Alright." Lin Qing'er hurried toward the kitchen.

Before long, lunch was brought out.

Two bowls of vegetable porridge and several steamed corn buns.

A few unidentifiable wild vegetable leaves floated in the porridge. There was more broth than grain, and the rough pottery patterns at the bottom of the bowls were almost visible.

The buns were kneaded from coarse grain flour mixed with chopped wild vegetables, dark brown and tough enough that one had to tear them apart with force.

This was the best food their household had at the moment.

Looking at the thin, watery soup in his bowl, Feng Chen sighed softly. He lifted it and gulped it down, then broke the corn bun into pieces, soaked them in the porridge, and swallowed them together.

Lin Qing'er sat opposite him, taking small sips of porridge. Every now and then, she looked up at him, her eyes curving into crescents.

After the meal, Lin Qing'er went to tidy the kitchen. The sound of splashing water came from the small partitioned room, mixed with the crisp clinks of pottery bowls lightly knocking together.

Feng Chen watched her back, the shape of her thin shoulder blades faintly visible beneath her coarse linen clothes.

Once I rise up, I'll make sure you live a good life.

Thinking this to himself, he stood and went into the courtyard, picking up the bow and arrows once more.

The hunger in his stomach had faded. It was time to keep growing stronger.

He took his stance, the bowstring pressing a pale mark into his fingertips.

He released his fingers.

Ding-dong. Archery proficiency increased by one.

He fired arrow after arrow without stopping.

The bright noon light gradually softened into afternoon light, and the shadows stretched inch by inch.

His fingers were rubbed red by the bowstring, and the web between his thumb and forefinger ached faintly. Yet as his proficiency continued to rise, drawing the bow became increasingly second nature.

An hour passed.

Ding-dong! Archery proficiency increased by one.

Ding-dong! Archery has begun to enter a deeper level. Progress has slowed! A Thousand Miles a Day talent trait has begun activating.

He froze slightly, then immediately felt the change.

Before, insights into archery had seeped into him drop by drop. Now, it was as if a faucet had been twisted open, pouring into his mind in a rushing flood.

His speed of comprehension increased severalfold. Every detail of every movement was broken down with crystal clarity, then reassembled, becoming ever smoother and more precise.

Another hour passed.

Ding-dong. Archery proficiency has reached the Major Mastery Realm. Host, please check.

This notification rang several degrees louder than the previous ones.

He lowered his head to look at the bow and arrows in his hands. This feeling was completely different from when he had broken through to Minor Mastery.

With the bow in hand, he could clearly sense every grain in its body, every tiny curve, and even the subtle frequency with which the bowstring trembled in the air.

So long as he wished it, he could easily strike any target within his sight.

At the gate, Lin Qing'er sat on a small stool, resting her cheek in her palm as she quietly watched him practice archery.

Feng Chen's profile looked especially focused in the afternoon light. Sweat slid from his brow, while the muscles in his arms tightened and relaxed as he drew the bow.

A small curve formed at Lin Qing'er's lips. "Husband is working so hard."

After sitting for a while, she got up and went inside to clean up.

A broom woven from bamboo twigs swept across the dirt floor with a soft rustle.

Once she was done, she slung a bamboo basket over her back, pushed open the courtyard gate, and headed toward the nearest forest.

Today, she would gather some wild vegetables to properly reward her husband.

In the blink of an eye, evening had arrived.

The light in the courtyard shifted from golden to orange-red, then gradually dimmed, leaving only a thin streak of sunset glow on the western horizon.

Feng Chen's arms had become sore and swollen to the limit. Every draw of the bow felt as though someone were scraping his muscles with a dull knife, yet his eyes grew brighter and brighter. The insights flooding his mind had reached a critical point.

He drew the bow and released his fingers.

The bowstring hummed.

Ding-dong. Archery proficiency increased by one.

Ding-dong. Archery has reached the Perfect Mastery Realm. Host, please check.

An unprecedented insight surged through his mind.

It was not a stream, nor a great river—it was an ocean.

Everything about archery fused together in that instant: the direction of the wind, the humidity of the air, the distance to the target, the rebound speed of the bowstring, the angle at which the arrow spun through flight. No longer did he need to calculate any of it deliberately; it had already become instinct carved into his body.

After digesting this wave of insight, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands.

The muscle lines in his arms were far more defined than they had been that afternoon. A firm, smooth curve had emerged over his once-scrawny forearms, and a thin layer of callus had formed on the web between his thumb and forefinger.

This was Perfection?

In just one day, he had gone from beginner to Perfection, crossing all four realms.

His consciousness sank deep into his Sea of Consciousness as he looked toward the attribute panel.

The words beneath the archery section had quietly changed: Basic Archery (Perfection).

Just those four words—no numbers, no progress!

It was full. He truly could not advance any further.

At that moment, Lin Qing'er's cautious voice came from beside him. "Husband, shall we eat dinner?"

Lin Qing'er had been sitting there for a long time. Earlier, she had returned with freshly picked wild vegetables and prepared dinner, but seeing Feng Chen so focused on practicing archery, she had not dared disturb him. She had simply leaned quietly against the doorframe and waited.

Only now that she saw him stop did she speak.

Feng Chen smiled. "Alright, let's eat dinner."

After an afternoon of drawing the bow and shooting arrows, he was starving again.

The two sat at the wooden table missing a leg and ate dinner beneath the lingering glow of the evening sky.