Martial Hall

The Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall's plaque was a piece of old wood.

Its background was black and its lettering gold, but most of the paint on the characters had already peeled away, exposing the grayish-white grain beneath.

The threshold was made of stone, with a groove worn into the middle, smooth and gleaming from countless footsteps.

Zhou Yan stepped over it, the letter of recommendation tucked into his robes.

That morning, after Lao Luo had made his report in the steward's office.

Manager Feng had opened the roster with a shocked expression and scribbled a few notes beside Zhou Yan's name.

This country boy had broken through to Body Tempering less than three months after arriving!

He had originally thought Zhou Yan was just someone brought in through connections, but it turned out he really had some ability!

Manager Feng said that, according to the rules, any promising talent in the Body-Tempering Realm had to report to the martial hall.

"Go find Manager Pang at the Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall." Manager Feng handed him the letter and sent him away.

With that, Zhou Yan left the guard corps amid a host of envious and jealous stares, heading for the Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall.

The front courtyard of the Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall was a training ground.

Blue bricks paved the ground. Time had passed, and moss had grown between the cracks.

Wooden training dummies and stone locks stood at the four corners. The dummies were covered in dense fist marks and blade scars, some so deep they could fit half a fist.

On the weapon racks against the wall, sabers, spears, swords, and staffs were arranged neatly, their blades glinting with cold light.

They were clearly several grades better than the few rusty blades in the Sun Family Guard Corps.

More than a dozen young disciples were practicing the Mountain-Settling Stance by the wall. Their stances varied in quality—some were steady, while others swayed crookedly, obviously just beginners.

Everyone was working hard at martial arts. No one looked up at him.

Manager Pang's room was on the east side of the front courtyard.

Zhou Yan knocked twice on the half-closed door.

"Come in."

A dry voice came from inside.

Manager Pang sat behind an old desk. He was in his fifties, thin and gaunt, with loose skin hanging from his face as though draped over bone.

His fingers were long and slender like chopsticks. He was holding a brush and writing in a ledger without even looking up.

Zhou Yan respectfully handed over his letter of recommendation.

Manager Pang set down his brush, opened the letter, glanced through it, then gave Zhou Yan another look.

"Five taels of silver a month."

"Lodging is included, but you buy your own food." Manager Pang's voice was completely flat.

Zhou Yan took out five taels of loose silver from his robes and placed them on the desk.

Manager Pang accepted the silver, pulled open a drawer, and a bunch of copper keys rattled.

He selected one and placed it beside the silver.

Then he picked up his brush and wrote several words in the ledger: Zhou Yan, Class C.

"Stay in Room Twelve of the Class C quarters in the back courtyard. Go report to Class C."

After thanking him, Zhou Yan picked up the key, turned, and left.

A row of single-story rooms stood in the back courtyard.

Blue-brick walls, black-tiled roofs.

A wooden plaque hung on every door: A-One, A-Two, B-One, B-Two...

After walking all the way down, he found Room Twelve of the Class C quarters at the very end.

He pushed open the door.

The room was small, containing a wooden bed, a table, a chair, and a low cabinet in the corner.

The bedding was neatly folded at the head of the bed. It was coarse cloth, but clean.

Zhou Yan stood at the doorway for two breaths.

In the row houses behind the Sun Family estate, six people had been crammed into a single room. Even turning over could make someone bump into the person beside them.

A martial hall really was different, though the monthly expense was also astonishing.

Five taels of silver had to be paid every month. Converted into grain, that was enough to feed two farming households for an entire year.

No wonder people said martial arts cost money. Spending like this, a family without some means truly could not afford to practice martial arts.

He placed his bundle on the bed, leaned his saber against the headboard, and tucked his remaining silver back into his robes.

Zhou Yan sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. Then he rose and headed out toward the front courtyard.

Class C was on the west side of the front courtyard, near the weapon racks.

There were a dozen or so people inside, all in the Body-Tempering Realm, practicing stances.

The air was mixed with the smell of sweat. A few had fairly proper stances, while several had sagging waists. The people beside them jabbed them with their elbows, and they hurriedly straightened up.

Then Zhou Yan saw Class C's Instructor Ding.

Instructor Ding was in his early thirties. He was not tall, but his shoulders were extremely broad, his neck thick, and his protruding Adam's apple looked like a rock.

He was obviously stronger than Instructor Han from before!

He might even have reached the Martial Adept Realm!

The moment Zhou Yan stepped into Class C's area, Instructor Ding turned his head.

His gaze landed on Zhou Yan.

Then Instructor Ding's brow twitched slightly.

Zhou Yan instantly knew that his Body Tempering Great Accomplishment cultivation had been seen through.

Martial Practitioner Realm!

Instructor Han from the guard corps was in the Qi-Gathering Realm, still one step away from becoming a Martial Adept.

But Instructor Ding was a genuine Martial Practitioner Realm expert, capable of projecting his force outward.

Previously, Zhou Yan had never encountered a Martial Adept. The strongest people he had met had only been in the Qi-Gathering Realm.

The eyesight of someone in the Qi-Gathering Realm was completely different from that of someone in the Martial Practitioner Realm.

Zhou Yan's expression did not change.

Instructor Ding studied him for several breaths, then withdrew his gaze.

"You're newly transferred from the Sun Family Guard Corps? Who did you train under before?"

"Instructor Han."

Instructor Ding did not ask further. He jerked his chin toward the wall. "Take a stance. Let me see your foundation first."

Zhou Yan walked to the wall and assumed the Mountain-Settling Stance.

After the time it took to burn an incense stick.

At last, Instructor Ding grunted. "Your foundation is decent, and your strength isn't bad either. You're better than the people who came from the guard corps before. Find a spot and stand. Once you break through Qi Gathering, you can go to Class B."

Zhou Yan went to a corner and took his stance beside a short youth.

The short youth secretly glanced at him. His stance tilted slightly, and he hurriedly corrected it.

Instructor Ding had already turned to inspect the others. He spun the bamboo rod in his hand twice, then smacked it against the lower back of a disciple with a sagging waist.

After standing for half an hour, Instructor Ding told them to rest.

Several people gathered beside the weapon racks to drink water.

A tall, skinny man walked over. He wore a silk short robe, with the martial hall's green belt tied around his waist in an elaborate knot.

"Which family are you from?"

"I transferred from the Sun Family Guard Corps."

The man gave an oh, his tone rising at the end. "The guard corps, huh."

Another person beside him joined in. His face was round, and he smiled before speaking. "What level could a guard corps instructor possibly be? Qi-Gathering Realm at most. Our Instructor Ding, though, is a bona fide Martial Adept."

"No wonder," the tall, skinny man said.

Seeing that Zhou Yan did not respond, the tall, skinny man turned to chat about something else with the round-faced man.

They stood through another round.

Instructor Ding went around adjusting everyone's stances one by one.

When he reached a disciple with a sagging waist, he slapped the man's lower back.

With a dull thud, the man staggered a step forward. His stance scattered for an instant before steadying again.

When he resumed standing, his waist was noticeably straighter.

"Sink your qi downward. Don't just think it downward—make it move downward." Instructor Ding spoke quickly, every word chasing the next.

"The waist is the hinge. If your waist does not sink, the qi gets stuck halfway. If the qi gets stuck halfway, standing for however long is useless."

He walked in front of another person and tapped the man's knee with the bamboo rod.

"Here. You've bent too far. Your knee is past your toes, putting all the force on the bones. How many years can your bones hold up?"

That person hurriedly adjusted himself.

Instructor Ding stopped in front of Zhou Yan.

For half a breath.

He neither struck him nor tapped him with the bamboo rod.

Instead, he walked straight past. With his eyesight, he could naturally see that Zhou Yan's stake stance had reached Great Accomplishment.

As for whether Zhou Yan could break through to Perfection, that would depend on his own comprehension or relentless practice.

The short youth beside him secretly glanced over, a strange look in his eyes.

Why hadn't Instructor Ding said anything to this newcomer?

At dusk.

Manager Pang sent someone over with two items.

The waist token was wooden. The front was carved with the words "Mountain-Suppressing Martial Hall," while the back marked him as Class C. It was the size of a copper coin and strung on a hemp cord.

The handwritten booklet was not thick.

Three words were written on its cover: Mountain-Suppressing Fist.

Zhou Yan opened it. The fist manual had been copied by hand. The handwriting was neat, but the ink showed its age, and the edges of the pages had frayed.

After he had memorized the essentials of the Mountain-Suppressing Fist, the man took the manual back.

He specifically warned that this technique could not be leaked. If it was ever leaked, the martial hall would investigate to the bitter end.

At that time, the lightest punishment would be the crippling of his martial arts, while the worst would be the loss of his life.

Every move was accompanied by a simple illustration, with the path of the fist forms outlined in ink.

First form, Mountain Sinking. Second form, Rock-Breaking. Third form, Mountain Suppression.

There were three forms in total.

He had previously trained the Mountain-Breaking Fist to Lesser Accomplishment, so he understood this set at a glance. Moreover, its fist forms and stance forms came from the same source. Its opening move evolved from the Mountain-Settling Stance: feet apart, sink the waist and sit the hips, fists drawn to the waist, power traveling from the waist and hips through the back to the shoulders and elbows, finally reaching the fists.

When he flipped to the third form, words surfaced in his vision.

[Technique detected: Mountain-Suppressing Fist]

[Record it?]

Zhou Yan's thoughts stirred.

A new line appeared on the panel.

[Mountain-Suppressing Fist: Beginner 1/100]

He immediately closed the manual.

The sky had not yet fully darkened when he left the martial hall.

There was a pharmacy at the street corner. Its storefront was small, and the words on its plaque were nearly illegible.

Two bamboo baskets outside the entrance held sun-dried herbs, their bitter scent drifting through half the alley.

He pushed the door open. The medicinal smell inside was even stronger, tightening his nostrils.

The plump shopkeeper was working an abacus behind the counter. Seeing Zhou Yan wearing the martial hall's clothes, he took the initiative to speak.

"Body-Tempering Decoction or Qi Gathering Pills?"

"Body-Tempering Decoction! Two doses."

The shopkeeper turned around, took several packets of herbs from the medicine cabinet, then opened a clay jar and wrapped several powders in yellow paper before swiftly tying them with hemp string.

Zhou Yan took out loose silver from his robes. The shopkeeper accepted it, flicked the abacus a few times, and gave him several copper coins in change.

The two medicinal packets were stuffed into his bundle.

After reaching Body Tempering Great Accomplishment, merely practicing stances was not enough. He had to advance to Perfection as soon as possible, and his stake stance also needed to move toward Perfection!

Room Twelve of the Class C quarters in the back courtyard.

Zhou Yan closed the door.

The fist manual lay on the table, while the ingredients for the two doses of Body-Tempering Decoction rested in the corner, tightly bound with hemp string.

He stood in the middle of the room.

His feet spread shoulder-width apart, his waist sank and hips sat, while his hands formed a circle before his chest.

A quarter of an hour.

Half an hour.

Words surfaced in his vision.

[Mountain-Settling Stance: Great Accomplishment 45/300]

Then they jumped once more.

[Mountain-Settling Stance: Great Accomplishment 46/300]

Zhou Yan opened his eyes and withdrew from the stance.

He picked up the Mountain-Suppressing Fist manual from the table and opened it to the first form.

Mountain Sinking!

Following the stances in the manual, he slowly pushed his fists forward.

The waist-and-hip power developed through the Mountain-Settling Stance became the foundation of every punch in a fist technique.

After completing one set.

The panel flashed.

[Mountain-Suppressing Fist: Beginner 2/100]

He set down the manual and rolled his shoulders, his joints cracking twice.

The two packets of medicine were still in the corner.

One step at a time. Tomorrow, he would brew one packet, push Body Tempering toward Perfection, push the Mountain-Settling Stance toward Perfection, and keep advancing the Mountain-Suppressing Fist now that he had gotten started.

As for the Mountain-Breaking Fist, after watching two moves today, he could tell from its stances that it was not much weaker than the Mountain-Suppressing Fist.

But he could only practice it in secret inside his room. If he encountered an enemy, using both fist techniques together could catch them off guard.

A one-strike killing move!

Zhou Yan closed the fist manual on the table, picked up the two packets of medicine from the corner, and set them on the table. He opened one and leaned close to smell it.

The medicinal scent stung his nose. It was time to brew the medicine.