Bone Feeling

Just past noon, the sun was blazing fiercely.

Several uninvited guests arrived in Willow Village.

Three to five men in black, sabers hanging at their waists, shoved their way from house to house starting at the eastern end of the village.

The leader had triangular eyes and clutched a portrait in his hand, thrusting it into everyone's face.

"Have you seen this person?"

Zhou Yan was splitting firewood in the yard.

His axe had just been raised halfway when the courtyard gate crashed open.

The triangular-eyed man strode in, followed by two men in black.

The portrait snapped open and was shoved before Zhou Yan's face.

It depicted a young man with a square face and thick brows.

"Seen him before?"

Zhou Yan glanced at the portrait, then at the triangular-eyed man. Slowly, he lowered the axe in his hand and rested it on the chopping block.

"Who's this? Never seen him."

His voice was even, his face expressionless.

Madam Liu poked her head out from the kitchen. The moment she saw the three men in black blocking the courtyard entrance, her face went deathly pale.

The triangular-eyed man stared at Zhou Yan for several breaths.

His gaze was like a blade, scraping over him from head to toe, then scraping back again.

Then he put away the portrait and swept his eyes around the courtyard.

Mud-brick walls, thatched roofing.

Firewood and farming tools were piled in the yard. Several strings of dried chilies hung outside the kitchen, and the threshold had been trampled into a dent.

The poverty was plain at a glance. He snorted and turned to leave the courtyard.

His two underlings followed behind. Before leaving, one of them kicked the broken wooden bucket by the gate.

The bucket rolled twice before knocking against the base of the wall.

The courtyard gate stood open, and the voices outside gradually faded away.

Madam Liu slid down along the kitchen doorframe and sat on the ground, gasping twice. "What is all this...?"

Zhou Yan said nothing. He bent down, stood the half-split log upright again, raised his axe, and brought it down with a smack.

The log split in two and bounced onto the ground.

His hand was steady, but the string in his heart was drawn taut as a bowstring.

Others might not know, but he did. Those were men from the Azure Cloud Gang!

The man in the portrait was the brocade-robed young man he had encountered in the mountains several days ago.

They were searching village by village, house by house. The Azure Cloud Gang's reach was stretching farther and farther; sooner or later, they would find something.

Without strength, one's life belonged to someone else.

He gathered up the chopped firewood, carried it into the kitchen, then shouldered the water buckets and went out.

The days continued as before.

By day, Zhou Yan farmed beneath the sun. By night, he slipped into the forest under cover of darkness.

He used the second packet of Body-Tempering Decoction on the seventh night. Just like the first time, he poured it into half a bucket of water and stirred it evenly, soaked a cloth through, and wiped it over his body. The instant the medicinal water touched his skin, searing pain surged up like countless red-hot needles stabbing into his pores.

Zhou Yan gritted his teeth without making a sound, but this time was different.

The burning pain lasted only about the time it took half an incense stick to burn, fading faster and more completely than before.

He stood and rolled his shoulders. His joints cracked twice, the sound sharper than it had been half a month ago.

He began his stance training.

He spread his legs apart and pressed his knees down, sinking lower than he had the previous time.

[Basic Stance Art Beginner: 25/100]

Sweat seeped from his forehead, trickled down along his brow bones, and dripped onto the fallen leaves by his feet.

[Basic Stance Art Beginner: 30/100]

By the time he stopped to catch his breath, the moon had slowly moved from the treetops to directly overhead.

After resting for the time it took half an incense stick to burn, Zhou Yan silently opened Mountain-Breaking Fist.

He had already become proficient in the first form, Stele Splitter.

Twist the waist, turn the hips, throw the punch.

His fist tore through the air with a sharp smack, crisp and clean.

It was completely unlike the dull sound from half a month ago.

Zhou Yan used seventy percent of his strength and punched the locust tree beside him.

Bang!!!

A small piece of bark burst away, and several leaves rustled down from above his head.

He continued practicing the second form, Stone-Rending.

The second form followed a different path of exertion from the first.

Stele Splitter used direct force. The punch went out like a hammer, emphasizing the unity of waist and hips.

Stone-Rending used twisting force. At the same time as throwing the punch, he had to rotate his wrist and drill the power inward through that rotation, like a drill bit.

Beside the little figure drawn in the booklet were four words: Rotate the wrist like an awl.

Immediately afterward, he punched a thicker locust tree.

His fist struck it without breaking the bark, but his entire arm jolted from wrist to shoulder as though someone had struck it with a wooden club.

Pain was pain, yet when that vibration reached his shoulder bone, it carried an indescribable sense of smoothness.

[Mountain-Breaking Fist Beginner: 30/100]

More than half a month passed, ground away day by day like this.

During the day, he hoed the fields. Even after working an entire morning without pause, he was barely out of breath.

Before, after hoeing just two furrows while bent over, he would have to brace himself against the hoe handle and rest for half the day. Now, he could finish four furrows in one breath and still straighten his back.

His shoulders had broadened by half an inch. Muscle lines had appeared on his arms, and beneath his sun-darkened skin, a layer of flesh faintly bulged.

His tendons and bones had grown tougher. Even when walking, his back naturally remained straight.

Even Madam Liu muttered once, "Why has your appetite gotten so big lately? One bowl of porridge used to be enough, but now you need two more bowls."

Zhou Yan did not answer. He set his bowl in the kitchen, shouldered the water buckets, and went out.

At night, he entered the forest as usual.

The time he could hold his stance doubled, from barely lasting one incense stick at first to more than two incense sticks later on.

His legs still trembled, but the tremors came less often and with smaller movements.

He pressed his knees lower and lower bit by bit, and the aching fullness at the roots of his thighs changed from burning pain into a dull swell.

He also kept grinding away at his fist techniques.

He practiced the first form, Stele Splitter, over and over more than a thousand times. Twisting his waist, turning his hips, and throwing a punch had become instinct.

The second form, Stone-Rending, had gone from numbing his arm with every punch at the start to producing less and less vibration. The sound of his fists striking trees changed from dull thuds into short, crisp cracks.

On the fifteenth night.

[Basic Stance Art Beginner: 56/100]

[Mountain-Breaking Fist Beginner: 43/100]

Zhou Yan stopped, wiped his hands on his pants, opened Mountain-Breaking Fist, and studied the diagrams of the second form several more times by moonlight.

He stood, twisted his waist, turned his hips, and threw a punch.

Rotate the wrist.

Crack!

A thin fissure split open in the locust tree trunk, extending upward about an inch from where his fist had landed.

Zhou Yan withdrew his fist and looked at the crack.

Several breaths later, the corner of his mouth twitched, then settled again. He turned and continued his stance training.

The news was brought back by Zhou Dashan.

His daughter, who had married into the county town, had sent word through someone.

A new Heavenly Peak Martial Arts Hall had opened in the county town. One of its instructors, surnamed Meng, was in the Qi-Gathering Realm.

Instructor Meng's sister-in-law was the younger sister of a restaurant manager, and that restaurant manager happened to be Zhou Dashan's son-in-law.

The connection twisted and turned through many bends, but the martial arts hall had just been established and needed to recruit students.

Through that connection, Instructor Meng came to Willow Village to feel the bones and test the talents of boys of suitable age.

Promising seedlings would have their tuition waived; those somewhat lacking would pay only half.

When the news spread, the entire village erupted.

On the day of the bone feeling, the threshing ground was packed with people.

Men and women, young and old—everyone who could come had come.

An open space had been cleared in the center of the threshing ground, where Instructor Meng stood.

He was a little over thirty, lean and wiry, dressed in a blue-gray short shirt with tightly bound cuffs.

A bronze martial plaque hung at his waist, gleaming with a dark metallic sheen under the sunlight.

He stood there without moving, yet the pressure of his presence kept everyone within several feet from daring to approach.

"Those of suitable age, thirteen to eighteen. Line up. One at a time."

There were more than ten boys of suitable age in the village. Zhou Hong stood near the front. Fourteen or fifteen years old and fair-skinned, he did not look like a farmer at first glance, making him stand out among the sun-darkened boys. He was Zhou Yan's cousin, Zhou Dashan's youngest son.

Zhou Dashan stood amid the crowd, with his wife Hu beside him. The couple stared at the center of the ground without blinking.

Instructor Meng called the first boy forward and placed his palm on the boy's shoulder.

After several breaths, he moved it to the boy's back and wrist. His eyes were closed, and he said nothing.

The silence around them was so complete that the wind sweeping across the threshing ground could be heard.

Several breaths later, Instructor Meng opened his eyes. "Inferior Lower Grade."

The boy froze where he stood, while his father's face beside him collapsed halfway.

By then, Instructor Meng had already beckoned for the next one.

One after another.

All were Inferior Lower Grade.

The mood on the threshing ground changed from excitement to gloom.

Some muttered softly, "What talent could farmers like us possibly have?" Others had already risen to leave.

But even more people continued staring at the center of the ground, muttering, "What if, though?"

It was Zhou Hong's turn.

Instructor Meng placed his palm on his shoulder, paused for several breaths, moved it to his back, then to his wrist.

This time, he pressed for longer than he had with any of the others.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Zhou Hong.

"Medium Lower Grade."

Silence fell for an instant.

Zhou Dashan's joyous voice exploded. "Did you hear that? My son has Medium Lower Grade talent—he can learn martial arts!"

His face shone, the lines at the corners of his mouth squeezing together like a blooming flower.

Hu tugged at his sleeve beside him, her eyes rimmed red.

Zhou Hong stood in the center of the ground, his face flushed red. It was impossible to tell whether he was delighted or embarrassed.

Next came Zhou Tiezhu, broad and burly, built like he had been born for labor.

As he stepped forward, his father Zhou Laogen clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

After Instructor Meng finished, he looked up at Zhou Tiezhu.

"Medium Lower Grade."

Zhou Tiezhu froze on the spot. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

Zhou Laogen's lips trembled twice.

He grabbed his son's arm in one motion, his voice shaking. "Go! Even if I have to smash the pot and sell the iron, I'll send you!"

The threshing ground erupted into a roar of excitement.

Two Medium Lower Grades appearing at once was already unprecedented in a poor place like Willow Village.

Medium Lower Grade bone aptitude meant that as long as one diligently practiced martial arts and kept up with Body-Tempering Decoction and Qi Gathering Pills, one could reach the Qi-Gathering Realm.

As for whether one could become a Martial Adept, that depended on fate.

Zhou Yan stood farther back in the line. When he stepped forward, Instructor Meng's palm settled on his shoulder.

The palm was not thick, yet when it pressed down, it felt like an iron plate laid against him.

A faint, barely perceptible force seeped from the palm into the gaps between his bones, as though something were probing him.

Several breaths later, the palm moved to his back.

Zhou Yan's expression did not change, but his heart tightened slightly.

He did not know what his own talent would reveal beneath the hand of this Qi-Gathering Realm Martial Adept.

The palm finally settled on his wrist.

Three fingers rested on his wrist bone and remained there for several breaths.

Instructor Meng opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Your physique is fairly sturdy."

He paused.

"Inferior Middle Grade."

Half a grade stronger than the ordinary Inferior Lower Grade, but not yet Medium Lower Grade.

He was only sturdier than those farm boys who had never trained at all.

Zhou Yan showed no expression, nodded once, and stepped aside.

Before long, the bone-feeling examination was over.

Among all the boys of age in the village, the best results were only two lower-middle grades: Zhou Hong and Zhou Tiezhu.

Instructor Meng accepted them on the spot, halving their tuition. The rest should go back to farming.

The crowd dispersed.

After Madam Liu returned home, she sat on the kitchen threshold and muttered, "We just don't have that fate... no blue smoke has risen from our family graves..."

Zhou Dazhuang squatted by the wall, twisting straw rope without saying a word.

Zhou Dashan's side, however, was lively all day. Standing at his courtyard gate, he told everyone he met, "My Hong'er has lower-middle bones," and, "He'll become a Martial Adept lord someday." His voice was as loud as thunder. Every villager who passed by offered congratulations, and the smile on his face stayed there from morning until dark.

Zhou Tiezhu's side was another scene altogether.

Zhou Laogen's family was poor, even poorer than Zhou Yan's, but Zhou Laogen kept his word. That very night, he went to the neighboring village to borrow money from relatives.

When the relatives heard that Zhou Tiezhu had tested with lower-middle bones, they all lent him money one after another.

After all, if Zhou Tiezhu became a Martial Adept in the future, that favor would become a heavy debt indeed.

A Martial Adept's favor sometimes carried more weight in the village than the county lord's.

Someone saw him returning with several strings of copper coins tucked into his clothes, his back straighter by half than usual as he walked.

Late at night.

Snoring rose from the main room again, like muffled thunder.

Zhou Yan sat up. As before, he put on his straw sandals in the dark, opened the door a crack, and squeezed out sideways.

The moonlight in the woods was bright.

Dozens of fist marks remained on the trees around the clearing, and a great patch of bark had shattered from the locust trees.

One tree at the edge even bore a thin, split crack.

He stood where he usually stood, spread his feet apart, and pressed his knees lower.

Instructor Meng's words circled through his mind.

"Your build is quite sturdy!"

So what if his talent was ordinary!

With effort alone, he could break his limits. Others relied on talent; he would grind with his life.

And his breakthroughs had no limits, no bottlenecks, no shackles!

System text naturally surfaced in his vision.

[Heaven moves with vigor; thus the gentleman strives unceasingly for self-improvement]

[Basic Stance Art Entry: 61/100]

[Mountain-Breaking Fist Entry: 45/100]

Zhou Yan looked at those lines, drew a breath, and pressed his knees another fraction lower.

Under the moonlight, a shadow planted deep within the woods stood utterly still, without the slightest tremor.