Before the Monthly Assessment

The next morning, Chen Mo returned to Clear River Martial Hall.

The sounds of fist practice already rang out across the Training Ground. He set his things down, joined everyone in formation, and began practicing the familiar Basic Fist again.

After only two rounds, Chen Mo noticed something different.

In the past, whenever he practiced his punches, he always focused on making every movement perfect—how to sink his shoulders, how to turn his waist, where to place his feet—all according to the way the instructor had taught him. But after returning from the mountains, he realized he no longer seemed so fixated on it.

When he threw a punch, his feet would naturally make slight adjustments, and his body would turn along with the shifting of his center of gravity. The movements had not deliberately changed, yet when performed in succession, they flowed far more smoothly than before.

After finishing one round, Chen Mo stopped to think, then started over.

This time, that stiff feeling was even fainter.

He could not help grinning.

It seemed that trip into the mountains had truly not been in vain.

But when he actually compressed his strength into his fists, that familiar feeling returned.

His fist slammed into the wooden post with a muffled thud.

The post swayed, then quickly came to a stop.

Chen Mo withdrew his hand and shook his numb fingers.

Still not enough.

That battle in the mountains had indeed allowed him to grasp some things he had never understood before, but those things had not made his strength grow out of thin air. They were useful when facing real beasts, but back at the martial hall, insufficient strength was still insufficient strength.

He was not too disappointed.

At least now, he knew where he fell short.

After morning practice ended, Instructor Li kept everyone behind.

"You've already been told about the Monthly Assessment." He looked at the newcomers before him. "The date has been set. It'll be three days from now."

A wave of hushed whispers immediately rose from the crowd.

"It's still three parts this time."

"Basic Fist, weighted training, and sparring."

"The final scores will be calculated together, then posted afterward."

At this, Instructor Li paused.

"Your ranking doesn't just affect your pride. It also affects what resources you'll be able to receive afterward. If you want a good score, make the most of these next few days."

As soon as he finished speaking, the atmosphere in the Training Ground changed.

Some people continued practicing their punches during the break, some gathered together to ask about one another's progress, and others simply found companions to spar with.

Chen Mo stood to the side and watched for a while, feeling an itch in his heart as well.

Of course he wanted to achieve a good ranking.

On one hand, he wanted to see how much he had truly accomplished during this period; on the other, he wanted to shut the mouths of those who said he had gotten in by luck.

At that thought, he could not help finding it somewhat amusing.

Since when had he cared so much about what others said?

Even so, if he could really place well on the rankings, he would certainly be happy.

During the morning break, Chen Mo sat at the edge of the Training Ground and drank some water.

Not far away, two newcomers were huddled together, flipping through a thin, handwritten fist manual. The booklet was small, but its paper was much finer than the practice manuals issued by the martial hall. It was densely covered with notes on exerting force and changing footwork.

On the other side, someone had brought medicinal soup from home and was squatting in the corner, slowly drinking it.

Chen Mo glanced over a few times.

"Must be nice to have money."

Zhao Chuan happened to sit down beside him. Hearing this, he followed Chen Mo's gaze and could not help clicking his tongue.

"I heard that stuff isn't cheap outside."

Chen Mo said nothing.

Whether it was expensive or not, of course he knew.

If he had those things too, practicing his punches might be much easier.

As soon as the thought appeared, he shook his head.

There was no point thinking about it.

He might as well honestly figure out how to master what was in front of him.

In the afternoon, the instructors arranged for the newcomers to spar in pairs.

"This won't count toward your Monthly Assessment score. It's only to help you adapt to actual combat in advance." Instructor Li stood at the edge of the ring. "Stop once a clear advantage is shown. Losing isn't shameful—clinging on when you're beaten is."

Wooden plaques were drawn one after another.

Chen Mo lowered his head and looked at his opponent. It was a newcomer who was usually somewhat stronger than him.

When that person saw the name, he smiled.

"Chen Mo?"

"Mm."

"I heard you're pretty good at dodging."

Chen Mo looked at him.

"Being able to dodge is better than not being able to."

Someone nearby laughed.

The man did not get angry either. He merely rolled his shoulders.

"Then don't let yourself fail to dodge later."

The two stepped into the circle.

Chen Mo lightly rolled his ankles, then tried taking two steps in place.

The bluestone slabs were perfectly flat.

There was no loose gravel from the mountains, nor any uneven slopes.

He quickly gathered his thoughts and fixed his eyes on the person before him.

The whistle sounded.

His opponent charged first, throwing a punch straight at his face.

Chen Mo shifted aside, and the fist nearly grazed his ear.

His opponent withdrew his fist quickly, and a second punch came crashing after it.

Chen Mo did not take it head-on. He pivoted, letting his shoulder turn aside with the motion, and the fist skimmed past his chest.

Third punch.

Fourth punch.

Several attacks in succession were all dodged before they reached him.

The onlookers gradually began to speak.

"He really dodged it."

"His footwork is pretty quick."

Chen Mo heard them, and that little bit of smugness rose in his heart again.

It seemed the things he had learned in the mountains really could be used.

But his opponent suddenly stopped.

"Can you do anything besides dodge?"

Chen Mo froze.

The next moment, his opponent charged once more.

This time, he did not chase after Chen Mo's movements. Instead, he pressed straight in, each punch heavier than the last.

Chen Mo quickly saw the change.

The shoulder moves first.

Right fist.

He should go left.

The thought had barely flashed through his mind when his feet fell half a beat behind.

Thud!

The fist skimmed across his shoulder, driving his whole body back a step.

He had just steadied himself when another punch came.

Chen Mo hurriedly turned aside, but this time he was no longer as composed as before. The wind of the fist scraped past his chest, leaving half his body numb.

He wanted to retreat, but his opponent kept forcing him back.

He could clearly see the path of every punch.

But sometimes, even when his eyes already knew how to dodge, his body could not keep up.

Another punch crashed toward him, and Chen Mo raised his arm to block it head-on.

A muffled impact rang out.

He staggered back several steps, his heel crossing the boundary line.

"Stop!"

The disciple overseeing the match immediately called out.

"You're out of bounds. Chen Mo loses."

Chen Mo stood outside the circle and took several breaths.

His opponent walked over and clasped his fists toward him.

"Thanks for yielding."

"Mm."

Chen Mo nodded, his expression still fairly calm.

Zhao Chuan had already come over.

"Weren't you dodging pretty well just now?"

Chen Mo raised a hand and wiped away his sweat.

"I just didn't have my footing for that one."

Zhao Chuan lowered his head and glanced at the ground.

"The bluestone slabs."

Chen Mo followed his gaze.

"..."

Zhao Chuan nearly burst out laughing.

"Do you even believe that yourself?"

Chen Mo glared at him.

"If you don't believe it, don't say so out loud."

Zhao Chuan laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

Chen Mo ignored him.

He looked back at the place where they had just exchanged blows, and the smugness in his heart had already scattered.

He knew he had not lost because he failed to see the attacks.

On the contrary, he could already tell when his opponent was about to throw a punch.

But his body could not keep up.

What the mountains had taught him was how to observe, how to borrow force, and how to survive by moving with the environment. They would not make his body instantly stronger just because he had figured something out.

"So what if I've understood it..."

Chen Mo muttered under his breath.

"I still have to train this body of mine."

Wang Lie had been watching from the side the entire time.

Only after Zhao Chuan walked away did he come over.

"You read him very accurately just now."

Chen Mo looked up.

Wang Lie glanced at his feet.

"Your body just couldn't keep up."

After saying that, he did not elaborate. He turned and returned to his place to continue practicing his punches.

Chen Mo stood there for a while.

The words were unpleasant, but they were more useful than Zhao Chuan's consolation.

At least they had hit the mark.

By evening, the people in the Training Ground gradually dispersed.

Chen Mo did not leave.

He stood before the wooden post and repeatedly practiced the Basic Fist he had worked on earlier. The first few rounds went fairly smoothly, but toward the end, he still stumbled whenever he exerted force.

He stopped to catch his breath and looked up at the wooden post before him.

He had not lost that sparring match particularly badly, but it had left him feeling stifled.

He had clearly seen the attack, yet he had still fallen just that little bit short.

Chen Mo gritted his teeth and took up his stance again.

"Again."

The night deepened, and the muffled sounds of fists and feet striking once more rang out across the Training Ground.

The Monthly Assessment three days away was already right before his eyes.