Fist Technique at Perfection

As he ate dinner, Feng Chen's gaze swept across the table.

The porridge was even thinner than at noon, and the steamed cornbread buns had shrunk another circle, feeling feather-light in his hand.

He said nothing and silently took a bite.

Lin Qing'er lowered her head, resting her chopsticks on the rim of her bowl. After a long while, she said softly, "I'm sorry, husband. The wild vegetables outside have nearly all been picked clean by everyone. I walked so far today, crossed two hills, and still only found this much!"

She paused. "Tomorrow, I'll go deeper into the mountains and take a look. The woods there are thick, so perhaps there'll still be some."

Feng Chen swallowed the cornbread in his mouth and said, "Qing'er, this isn't your fault. There was little rain at the start of spring this year, so nothing in the fields grew well to begin with."

He looked at the back of her neck, where a small patch of loose hair had been dampened by sweat. "Tomorrow, I'll think of something."

Lin Qing'er opened her mouth, then swallowed back her words one by one. She merely nodded. "I understand, husband."

Feng Chen continued eating in silence.

His mind spun rapidly!

With the Rapid Qi Cultivation Destiny Talent, he could train his archery to Perfection in a single afternoon. He couldn't keep gnawing on wild vegetables and cornbread buns every day.

He raised his eyes to look at the few tiny cornbread buns on the table. Lin Qing'er had taken only one, pushing all the rest to his side.

As they ate, someone knocked on the wooden gate of the courtyard.

The dull thuds of fists striking the door panel rang especially clearly in the quiet evening courtyard.

Lin Qing'er sprang to her feet, a trace of relief appearing on her face. "Husband, it should be Aunt Li."

As she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear, she said, "This afternoon, while you were practicing archery, I went to find Aunt Li. There really isn't enough food at home, so I asked whether we could borrow some for the time being."

Feng Chen was somewhat surprised.

He had never expected Lin Qing'er to go borrow food!

The two crossed the main room and entered the courtyard.

Lin Qing'er pulled open the gate.

Outside stood a gaunt woman with a slightly hunched back, her hands as withered and thin as tree branches stripped bare in winter.

When she saw Lin Qing'er and Feng Chen, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. In her hands, she clutched a dull gray cloth sack.

"Qing'er, Little Chen, come. Auntie brought you some grain."

"Thank you, Aunt Li! Come in quickly."

Lin Qing'er hurriedly stepped aside to make way and reached out to support her.

Feng Chen looked at the woman, and memories surged through his mind.

She lived in the village ahead and had been an old acquaintance of his parents in this life. The two families had kept in contact for many years.

After his parents passed away, Aunt Li came by every few days to check on them, sometimes bringing a handful of vegetables.

And at a time as difficult as this, she was still willing to lend them grain.

Aunt Li stopped and sized Feng Chen up before stuffing the cloth sack into Lin Qing'er's arms. "Little Chen, this is all Auntie can help with. It isn't much, so don't think it's too little. You must strive for yourselves and live well."

"And that Tiger Liu—walk around him if you see him from now on. Don't provoke him, understand?"

Feng Chen answered earnestly, "I understand. Thank you, Aunt Li."

Aunt Li offered a few more homely reminders, patted the back of Lin Qing'er's hand, then turned and slowly walked away with her back bent.

Her figure was soon swallowed by the night.

Lin Qing'er stood in the courtyard with the cloth sack in her arms, her lips curving into a smile. "Husband, I thought we wouldn't be able to borrow any. Aunt Li's family isn't well-off either, and my heart was beating like a drum when I went there. I didn't expect her to lend us some after all. Aunt Li is a good person."

Feng Chen looked toward the gate and nodded. "Yes, Aunt Li truly is a good person."

The two returned inside and placed the cloth sack on the table.

Lin Qing'er carefully untied the knot at its mouth and leaned close to the oil lamp for a look. There were two pounds of coarse grain, not ground very finely, with bits of husk mixed in.

In Green Mountain Village, this was already quite good food.

She poured the grain bit by bit into the rice jar. Once it was empty, she gently tapped the bottom of the sack against the rim, a smile appearing on her face. Turning around, she said, "Husband, tomorrow I'll use this to cook you porridge, and I'll make it thicker. Once you eat it, your body can recover faster."

"Alright."

Feng Chen knew what Lin Qing'er was planning. If she made thick porridge tomorrow, only his bowl would likely be thick.

He did not expose her. He simply made a silent note of it in his heart.

The two sat back down and continued their dinner.

The porridge had already gone cold, but both of them felt more at ease than before.

Perhaps the extra grain in the rice jar by the wall had given this dilapidated house a little tangible confidence.

After dinner, Lin Qing'er cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, and the two washed up simply.

Lin Qing'er smoothed the bedding and turned back. "Husband, you practiced archery all afternoon. You must be tired, so rest early."

Feng Chen gave an acknowledgment and watched her blow out the oil lamp.

Moonlight leaked through holes in the window paper, scattering several pale white spots across the floor.

Listening to Lin Qing'er's breathing gradually become even and deep, he quietly rose, pushed open the wooden door, and entered the courtyard.

Moonlight made everything in the courtyard seem indistinct.

His archery had already reached Perfection, but the progress bar for the Basic Fist Technique was still incomplete.

It was the perfect time to practice while the night was deep and all was quiet.

His strength was far too weak. How could he sleep?

He closed his eyes and ran through the Basic Fist Technique and the movements he had seen in his previous life.

Straight punches, hooks, swings, mixed with several simple shifts in footwork.

Crude, but practical.

He took a deep breath and swung his clenched right fist forward.

The edge of his fist cut through the chilly night wind with a faint whoosh.

Ding dong: Basic Fist Technique proficiency increased by one.

Immediately afterward, a wave of insight into the force-generating techniques of fist fighting surged into his mind.

He clearly sensed that his waist had not turned fully during that punch just now, and only half the force had come from his shoulder.

A subtle adjustment naturally surfaced in his mind.

A smile appeared on Feng Chen's face.

He planted his feet firmly and threw punch after punch.

Straight punch, retract, then another straight punch!

Then hooks and swings, advancing and retreating with his footwork as he struck.

Every time he threw a punch, a notification sounded in his mind, followed by fresh insight.

From the beginning of night until the moon reached the middle of the sky, sweat streamed from his forehead. His coarse cloth shirt was soaked through at the back, clinging to his skin and turning icy under the night breeze.

But he did not stop.

He practiced until midnight.

Ding dong! Basic Fist Technique proficiency increased by one.

Ding dong! It has been detected that the host is diligently cultivating the Basic Fist Technique. The Rapid Progress Destiny Talent trait has activated.

His understanding of fist techniques was no longer a trickling stream, but a river bursting through opened floodgates, surging into his mind.

Every detail of every movement was magnified, dismantled, and recombined!

The coordinated interplay of bones, muscles, and sinews when throwing a punch, the precise correspondence between breathing rhythm and the instant force was unleashed!

Everything was polished to a mirror-like gleam within an extremely short time.

He did not know how many more punches he threw.

Then another notification sounded.

Ding dong! Basic Fist Technique has risen to the Perfect Mastery Realm. Please check, host.

Feng Chen's fist stopped in midair before slowly retracting.

He closed his eyes and allowed the final, greatest wave of insight to unfold within his mind.

All the mysteries of the Basic Fist Technique lay before him like a book opened to its final page, spread out neat and orderly.

After fully digesting it, he opened his eyes and casually threw a punch forward.

The movement was incomparably smooth!

From the soles of his feet to his waist and hips, to his spine, to his arm, and finally to the face of his fist, the force flowed through in one unbroken line without the slightest obstruction.

Compared to before he began practicing, the speed and power of his punches could no longer be spoken of in the same breath.

It was not just the movements.

He lowered his head to look at his body. The lines of muscle on his arms had become more distinct, his shoulders a little broader and thicker than before, and beneath the moonlight, his chest carried curves it had never possessed in the past.

The strength within his body had grown by a full circle, like a sapling that had once drooped suddenly drinking its fill of water, every branch standing tall.

He just felt terribly hungry.

That hunger was even fiercer than after practicing archery that afternoon. His stomach felt hollowed out, and even his legs had gone slightly weak.

He understood in his heart that reaching Perfection in the fist technique had strengthened his physique, but it had consumed the energy within his body.

The thin porridge, wild vegetables, and cornbread buns from noon and dinner had long been exhausted by his afternoon of archery training. This entire night of fist training had burned through nothing but his body's reserves.

Still, the Basic Fist Technique had reached Perfection, so his strength had taken another step forward.

In this world where Martial Artists came and went from great heights, every bit of increased strength meant another layer of confidence in surviving.

A smile appeared on his face. He raised a hand to wipe away the sweat on his brow, then turned and headed back into the house.

Pushing open the half-closed door, he was surprised to find a faint oil lamp still burning inside.

The wick had been trimmed very short, and the flame was only as large as a bean, wavering as it held open a small patch of dim yellow light in the darkness.

Lin Qing'er had not gone to sleep either.

She sat at the table, with a bowl before her covered by a small plate.

Seeing Feng Chen enter, she hurriedly stood and lifted the plate.

A burst of steaming hot coarse-grain porridge fragrance rose into the air.

"Husband, you're back. Eat quickly. I know you're tired."

There was a faint hoarseness in Lin Qing'er's voice as she pushed the bowl toward him.

Feng Chen looked at the bowl of coarse-grain porridge on the table, then looked at Lin Qing'er.

Her hair was slightly messy from sleep, and faint marks from resting her face on the table remained on her cheeks.

She had already slept for a while and then gotten up again. Knowing he would be hungry after practicing fist techniques in the middle of the night, she had risen to cook this late-night meal from the coarse grain Aunt Li had given them.

Warmth filled Feng Chen's heart. He sat beside her, took the chopsticks, and said earnestly, "Thank you, Qing'er."

Lin Qing'er shook her head and smiled without speaking, merely resting her chin in her hand as she watched him lift the bowl.