Promise

Back home.

Fang Han pushed open the creaking wooden door, and the faint scent of cooking smoke wafted over him.

"Brother!"

His younger sister Fang Rui's clear, childish voice rang out.

This was followed by a flurry of light footsteps as Fang Rui, her hair tied in twin buns, ran out from inside.

Her large, dark eyes gazed up at Fang Han expectantly, her face full of anticipation.

Fang Han smiled faintly and, as if performing a magic trick, produced a candied hawthorn skewer from behind his back and waved it before her.

The little girl froze at first. Then her eyes lit up, her small mouth fell open, and she stood there in a daze.

A moment later.

She suddenly jumped up, clapping her little hands with loud smacks, yet she did not dare reach out and snatch it.

Instead, she circled Fang Han like a cheerful little sparrow.

"Here, Xiao Rui."

Fang Han crouched down with a smile and held the candied hawthorn skewer out to her.

Fang Rui carefully accepted it, cradling it in both hands as though it were some priceless treasure.

She stared at the glistening candied hawthorns again and again, swallowed hard, but did not take a bite for a long while.

"Why aren't you eating, Xiao Rui?" Fang Han asked.

"I can't bear to..."

Fang Rui spoke softly. "The last time I had candied hawthorn was during the New Year."

Fang Han's heart trembled slightly. He reached out and stroked his sister's soft hair, smiling. "Eat it. From now on, Brother will buy you some every day."

Fang Rui tilted her head and looked at him, her eyes brimming with delight. "Really?"

"Really."

Fang Han nodded seriously, speaking each word clearly. "Once Brother becomes a Martial Artist, you'll get to eat candied hawthorn every day."

The little girl nodded hard. Only then did she carefully bite off a candied hawthorn. As she held it in her mouth, her eyes curved into crescents, and her little face was filled with happiness.

Seeing his sister's contented expression, Fang Han silently swore that such days would not be far away.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the kitchen.

In the crude kitchen, his mother, Chen Cui, was busy by the stove.

Thin porridge simmered in the pot, while the firelight from the hearth reflected off her somewhat haggard face.

"Mother."

Fang Han called out, lifting the pork belly wrapped in lotus leaves and handing it to her.

Chen Cui took it. When she opened the lotus leaves and saw what was inside, her brows furrowed slightly before she began to nag.

"Why did you spend money on this again? You need money to practice martial arts. Anything is fine for us to eat; there's no need to buy meat."

Fang Han smiled but did not respond.

He noticed that although his mother said that, her hands clutched the lotus-leaf parcel tightly.

It had been so many days since they had eaten meat.

Fang Han understood, but did not expose her.

After leaving the kitchen, he went to the main room and greeted his grandfather Fang Yuanshan and grandmother Madam Liu.

Not long afterward, the family gathered around for a simple dinner.

After the meal, he returned to his room.

Fang Han shut the door, lay down on the bed fully clothed, and closed his eyes.

Yet his consciousness did not fall asleep. Instead, it slowly sank into the depths of his mind.

Within a void-like space.

The Martial Soul Avatar was practicing the Nine Flood Dragon Palms.

Each move was fierce and sharp, its palm winds whistling through the air.

As its name suggested, the Nine Flood Dragon Palms resembled flood dragons emerging from the water. Fierce and domineering, it had nine forms, each stronger than the last.

The Martial Soul Avatar had practiced this palm art tirelessly these past days and had long since brought it to a superb level.

Now, as it executed the art, its movements flowed like clouds and water, seamless from beginning to end.

As Fang Han silently watched the Martial Soul Avatar practice, he pondered inwardly.

"According to the handwritten manual, once a palm art is trained to Perfection, it can help a Martial Artist condense five strands of Blood Qi..."

Fang Han laughed quietly.

Nine Flood Dragon Palms was certainly a domineering name.

Yet even after reaching Perfection, it could only condense five strands of Blood Qi.

He could not help recalling the Twelve Forms of Gale-Breaking Fist that Senior Brother Huo had mentioned.

Training the Gale-Breaking Fist to Perfection could condense ten strands of Blood Qi at once.

That was enough for him to directly break through one layer of the Body Tempering Third Layer, advancing one step at a time.

The difference between the two was obvious.

Still, Fang Han was not in a hurry.

Martial arts had their ranks, but no one was ever without a path forward.

With the Panel in hand, as long as he had enough time and patience, what martial art could he fail to master?

With a thought, the Panel appeared before him, exceptionally clear.

[Forged to Excel]

[Name: Fang Han]

[Age: 23]

[Physique: Inferior (Cultivable)]

[Comprehension: 110]

[Realm: None]

[Martial Art: Gale-Breaking Fist (Mortal Grade)]

[Proficiency: 814/1000, Minor Accomplishment]

[Martial Art: Nine Flood Dragon Palms (Mortal Grade)]

[Proficiency: 795/5000, Major Accomplishment]

[Talents: Unyielding Practice (Never Regresses), Rising Talent (Enhanced Comprehension)]

Fang Han's gaze swept over the proficiency values, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly.

Compared with the last time he checked, his comprehension had increased by another 3 points, reaching 110.

Comprehension was something one could neither see nor touch.

But Fang Han could feel that practicing martial arts had indeed become much smoother for him than before.

Many moves that once required him to ponder for a while before understanding could now be grasped after practicing them just two or three times.

That was likely the benefit brought by the [Rising Talent] gift.

Gale-Breaking Fist had 814 points, leaving 186 points before it reached 1000.

Nine Flood Dragon Palms had 795 points, still far from the 5000-point threshold.

But since the Martial Soul Avatar practiced it every day, there was no rush.

"Judging by the progress, after tomorrow, the Gale-Breaking Fist should reach Major Accomplishment."

To nourish his spirit and ensure he remained energetic during the day these past few days,

he had lowered the Martial Soul Avatar's nighttime training efficiency for the Nine Flood Dragon Palms, spending most of that time on sleep instead.

Even so, breaking one thousand proficiency points tomorrow should not be a problem.

"With the Panel, I can check my martial arts progress at any time, keeping everything under control and advancing steadily.

Among the countless Martial Artists in this world, who could possess such convenience?

Others could only rely on feeling when practicing martial arts. They had no idea how far they had progressed.

But I could see it all at a glance, clearly knowing where I needed to focus my efforts...

Not to mention the support of [Unyielding Practice] and [Rising Talent].

One ensured that martial arts would never regress!

The other made my comprehension grow day by day!

Placed upon any Martial Artist, these two talents would be enough to defy fate itself."

Fang Han opened his eyes and stared at the mottled beams overhead, murmuring softly.

"My top priority is to improve my training efficiency as soon as possible."

After thinking for a moment, he made up his mind.

Tomorrow, when he got to the martial hall, he would go directly to Senior Brother Huo for a chat.

Over these past days, Fang Han had observed carefully at the martial hall and discovered that Huo Zheng looked cold and distant, yet handled matters with considerable order.

Moreover, he had been the first person to offer Fang Han assistance...

Such a person could be trusted.

Even if they did not become close, it would still be good to purchase some training resources through Senior Brother Huo's channels.

With that in mind, Fang Han rose, pushed open his door, and walked out into the courtyard.

The night breeze blew gently, carrying a trace of chill.

Fang Han raised his head to look at the cold moon, sighing softly to himself.

Everything that had happened today.

Killing someone, hiding silver, being cautious at every turn, treading on thin ice...

In the end, it was all because he was not strong enough.

If one day he could stand shoulder to shoulder with Great Qian's Martial Saint who guarded the nation, what in this world would be beyond his reach?

The Great Qian Dynasty revered martial strength. From nobles and royalty to common laborers and peddlers, everyone judged status by strength.

The weak were like ants, while the strong were like gods. Such were the rules of Great Qian, and such were the rules of this world.

He could only become stronger, stronger without end.

Under the moonlight.

Fang Han's shadow stretched long, like a sharp sword on the verge of leaving its sheath.