Bone Feeling

Just past noon, the sun was scorching.

Several uninvited guests arrived in Willow Village.

Three or five men in black, sabers slung at their waists, went from house to house from the eastern end of the village.

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

"Have you seen this person?"

Zhou Yan was chopping firewood in the yard.

His axe was raised halfway when the courtyard gate slammed open.

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

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

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

"Seen him?"

Zhou Yan glanced at the portrait, then at the triangular-eyed man. The axe in his hand slowly lowered onto the chopping block.

"Who's this? Never seen him."

His voice was calm, and his face showed no expression.

Madam Liu poked her head out of the kitchen. Seeing the three men in black blocking the courtyard entrance, her face instantly turned 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 back again.

Then he put away the portrait and swept his gaze around the yard.

Mud-brick walls, thatched roofing.

Firewood and farming tools were piled in the yard. Several strings of dried peppers hung by the kitchen door, and the threshold had been worn into a hollow.

The place was so poor that one glance took it all in. He snorted and turned to leave the courtyard.

The two subordinates followed behind him. Before leaving, one of them kicked the broken wooden bucket by the gate.

The bucket rolled twice and struck the base of the wall.

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

Madam Liu slid down the kitchen doorframe and sat on the ground, taking two breaths. "What is all this...?"

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

The log split in two and bounced onto the ground.

Though his hand was steady, the string in his heart was stretched taut.

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

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

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

Without strength, his life belonged to someone else.

He gathered the split firewood, carried it into the kitchen, then shouldered the water buckets and left.

Life continued as usual.

During the day, Zhou Yan farmed beneath the blazing sun. At night, he entered 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 rubbed it over his body. The moment 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 to drink half a cup of tea, fading faster and more completely than before.

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

He began practicing his stance.

He spread his legs and pressed his knees down, lowering himself deeper than last time.

[Basic Stance Art Beginner: 25/100]

Sweat seeped from his forehead, ran down his brow ridge, 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 to drink half a cup of tea, Zhou Yan silently opened the Mountain-Breaking Fist manual.

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

Twist the waist, turn the hips, punch.

His fist split the air with a crisp, sharp smack.

It was completely different from the dull sound it had made half a month earlier.

Using seventy percent of his strength, Zhou Yan punched the locust tree beside him.

Bang!!!

A small piece of bark burst away, and several leaves rustled down from overhead.

He continued practicing the second form, Stone-Rending.

The second form used strength differently from the first.

Stele Splitter relied on direct force. The fist struck like a hammer, emphasizing unity between the waist and hips.

Stone-Rending relied on twisting force. As the fist was thrown, the wrist had to rotate, drilling the force inward through the rotation like a drill bit.

Beside the little figure in the manual were four words: rotate the wrist like an awl.

He immediately punched a thicker locust tree.

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

It hurt, but when the vibration reached his shoulder bone, he felt an indescribable smoothness.

[Mountain-Breaking Fist Beginner: 30/100]

More than half a month passed, day after day, through this steady grinding.

During the day, he hoed the fields. He could work an entire morning without resting and barely feel out of breath.

Before, after hoeing just two furrows while bent over, he would have to lean on the hoe handle and recover for a long while. Now, after finishing four furrows in one go, he could 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 subtly bulged.

His muscles and bones had hardened, and even while walking, his back naturally straightened.

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 respond. He set down his bowl in the kitchen, shouldered the water buckets, and left.

At night, he entered the forest as usual.

The time he spent practicing his stance doubled. At first, he could only endure for the duration of one incense stick. Later, he could stand for more than two.

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

He gradually lowered his knees deeper and deeper. The sour swelling at the roots of his thighs changed from burning pain into a dull ache.

He also continued grinding away at his fist technique.

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

The second form, Stone-Rending, changed from making his arm go numb with every punch to producing weaker and weaker vibrations. The sound of his fists hitting 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 the Mountain-Breaking Fist manual, and studied the diagrams for the second form several more times by moonlight.

He stood up, twisted his waist, turned his hips, and punched.

Rotate the wrist.

Crack!

A fine fissure opened in the locust 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 practicing his stance.

Zhou Dashan brought back the news.

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 tavern manager, and that tavern manager happened to be Zhou Dashan's son-in-law.

The connection was roundabout, 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 candidates would have their tuition waived, while those less gifted would pay half.

When the news spread, the entire village exploded.

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

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

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

He was in his early thirties, lean and wiry, wearing a short blue-gray shirt with the cuffs tied tight.

A bronze martial badge hung from his waist, gleaming with a dark metallic sheen beneath the sunlight.

He stood there without moving, yet the pressure around him 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, fair-skinned, and looking unlike a farmer at first glance, he stood out among the darkly tanned boys. He was Zhou Yan's cousin, Zhou Dashan's younger son.

Zhou Dashan stood in the crowd with his wife Hu beside him. The two stared at the center of the grounds 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. He closed his eyes and said nothing.

The surroundings were so quiet that everyone could hear the wind sweeping over the threshing ground.

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

The boy stood frozen, while his father's face fell halfway beside him.

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

One after another.

All were Inferior Lower Grade.

The atmosphere on the threshing ground shifted from excitement to gloom.

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

But even more people continued staring at the center of the grounds, muttering that there might still be a chance.

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 anyone before.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Zhou Hong.

"Medium Lower Grade."

Silence fell for an instant.

Zhou Dashan's delighted voice exploded. "Did you hear that? My son has Medium Lower Grade talent! He can practice martial arts!"

His face shone, and the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth squeezed into a flower.

Hu tugged at his sleeve, her eyes reddening.

Zhou Hong stood in the middle of the grounds, his face flushed crimson. It was unclear whether he was happy or embarrassed.

Next came Zhou Tiezhu, broad and brawny, built like a man born for labor.

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

After Instructor Meng finished, he raised his head and looked at Zhou Tiezhu.

"Medium Lower Grade."

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

Zhou Laogen's lips trembled twice.

He grabbed his son's arm, his voice shaking. "Go! Even if I have to sell everything I own, I'll send you!"

The threshing ground erupted with noise.

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

Medium Lower Grade bones meant that as long as one practiced martial arts diligently and had enough 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 placed a palm on his shoulder.

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

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

Several breaths later, the palm moved to his back.

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

What kind of talent would this Qi-Gathering Realm martial artist discover in me?

The palm finally settled on his wrist.

Three fingers rested on his wrist bone for several long breaths.

Instructor Meng opened his eyes and glanced at him.

"Your physique is quite sturdy."

He paused.

"Inferior Middle Grade."

It was half a grade better than the average person's Inferior Lower Grade, but it had not reached Medium Lower Grade.

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

Zhou Yan showed no expression. He nodded and stepped aside.

Before long, the bone-feeling examination was over.

Among all the village boys of eligible age, only two had lower-middle aptitude at best: Zhou Hong and Zhou Tiezhu.

Instructor Meng accepted them on the spot, halving their tuition. Everyone else was to go back to farming.

The crowd dispersed.

After Madam Liu returned home, she sat on the kitchen threshold and muttered, "It wasn't in the cards... Our ancestors' graves never gave off that lucky smoke..."

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

Zhou Dashan's household, on the other hand, was lively all day. Standing at his courtyard gate, he told everyone he met, "My Hong'er has lower-middle aptitude," and, "He'll become a Martial Adept someday." His voice boomed like thunder. Every villager who passed by offered congratulations, and the smile on his face remained from morning until dark.

Zhou Tiezhu's family was a different sight.

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 aptitude, they all lent him money.

After all, if Zhou Tiezhu became a Martial Adept someday, that favor would become a major debt.

A Martial Adept's favor was sometimes more useful in the village than even the county magistrate's.

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

Late at night.

Snoring rose again from the main room, muffled like 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 forest was bright.

The trees around the clearing, especially the locust trees, bore dozens of fist marks, their bark shattered over large patches.

One tree near the edge even had a thin crack split across it.

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

Instructor Meng's words circled through his mind.

"Your physique is quite sturdy!"

So what if his talent was ordinary?

He could achieve Limit-Breaking through hard work. Others relied on talent; he would grind it out with his life.

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

System text naturally appeared in his vision.

[The movement of Heaven is ever vigorous; a gentleman strives unceasingly for self-improvement]

[Basic Stance Art, Beginner: 61/100]

[Mountain-Breaking Fist, Beginner: 45/100]

Zhou Yan looked at the two lines, drew a breath, and lowered his knees another fraction.

Under the moonlight, a shadow stood rooted deep within the forest, utterly motionless.