The Distance Between the Strong

The day after returning to the Blue Martial Arts Hall, the Outer Courtyard regained its usual liveliness.

After several days of fieldwork, everyone had kept shouting about how tired they were, but the moment they truly stepped back onto the training ground, they all perked up again.

After all, the Quarterly Assessment was drawing closer and closer.

Fieldwork let them see what life was like in the countryside and learn how ordinary people truly lived, but for Outer-Courtyard Apprentices, the Quarterly Assessment was the most tangible matter at hand.

A higher ranking meant different monthly allowances and rewards.

If they could squeeze into the top ten, they would even have a chance to obtain the good things prepared by the Blue Martial Arts Hall.

The first thing Chen Mo did after returning was put away his belongings, then head to the training ground and run through the Seventy-Three Forms.

After several days without properly practicing his punches, he was actually a little unaccustomed to it.

After the first round, his shoulders still felt somewhat tight.

During the second round, his body gradually warmed up.

By the third round, his movements had regained their smoothness.

When Chen Mo finished, he exhaled and raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Not bad."

Zhao Chuan, standing nearby, heard him and turned his head.

"What's not bad?"

"I haven't regressed."

"That's all you're asking for?"

"What else could I ask for?"

Chen Mo glanced at him.

"I can't go several days without practicing and suddenly become a master the moment I return."

Zhao Chuan thought about it.

"What if you did?"

Chen Mo laughed outright.

"Then I could laugh myself awake even in my sleep."

As the two were talking, a sudden shout came from the other side of the training ground.

The voice was not loud, but it was deep.

"Smack!"

A muffled impact rang out.

The burlap sack hanging from the wooden post swayed violently.

Chen Mo instinctively turned his head.

On the other side of the grounds, several veteran apprentices were sparring.

They were not merely feeding each other moves like the new Outer-Courtyard Apprentices usually did, nor were they simply exchanging techniques while stopping short of contact. They were truly bringing out what their fists and feet were capable of.

One of them was rather thin, yet his feet were exceptionally quick.

The moment his opponent raised a hand, he had already cut in from the side. His shoulder sank, his elbow followed through and knocked the other man's arm aside, and his other hand shot out right behind it.

The movement was not flashy.

It could even be called simple.

Yet every motion flowed smoothly into the next.

The instant his opponent retreated half a step, he was already pressing forward.

Fist, elbow, shoulder, footwork.

Several movements linked together without the slightest pause.

"Bang!"

Their arms collided.

The retreating man's sole scraped across the ground with a sharp sound, but his body did not lose balance. He immediately steadied himself again.

"Stop."

The instructor overseeing the grounds spoke up.

The two immediately withdrew their hands.

That last exchange had clearly gone beyond the bounds of ordinary sparring between apprentices.

Chen Mo watched intently.

He said nothing.

Zhao Chuan fell silent as well.

Even Wang Lie, who usually loved shouting about fighting and killing, stood to the side with his eyes fixed on the two in the ring.

The thinner veteran apprentice shook out his wrist.

"I almost failed to catch that last move."

The man opposite him smiled.

"Your footwork is faster than last time."

"Still not enough."

The two did not continue.

Soon, someone else stepped into the ring.

This time, it was a tall, powerfully built apprentice.

The moment he entered, his presence changed completely.

Chen Mo studied his shoulders and waist and hips, his gaze gradually turning serious.

This man possessed tremendous strength.

It was not the kind of sturdy build Wang Lie had, obvious at a glance. Rather, the strength in every part of his body could be linked together.

When he threw a punch, the soles of his feet moved first, his waist and hips followed, and his shoulder delivered the final drive.

It looked like nothing more than a fist.

But Chen Mo could sense that punch had not been thrown with the arm alone.

"Bang!"

The fist slammed into the wooden post.

The post shook violently.

Chen Mo's eyelid twitched.

"That's way too heavy..."

He kept his voice very low.

But Zhao Chuan heard him.

"I was just about to say that."

"You think so too?"

"Yeah."

Zhao Chuan nodded seriously.

"If I took one of those, I'd probably be lying on the ground."

Wang Lie was right beside them.

Hearing this, he did not laugh.

His gaze remained fixed on the two people in the ring.

After a while, he suddenly asked, "What about me?"

Zhao Chuan froze for a moment.

"What?"

"If I went up there."

Wang Lie said, "How long could I hold out?"

Zhao Chuan looked at him.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Just wondering."

"How would I know?"

Wang Lie said nothing more.

But Chen Mo saw his palm slowly tighten into a fist.

During the fieldwork these past few days, Wang Lie had constantly complained that those missions were boring.

But now that he stood here, he finally quieted down.

Because the true gap was right before his eyes.

It was not something he had heard from someone else.

Nor was it something the rankings at the Blue Martial Arts Hall could fully reflect.

Rather, once two people stood on the training ground, you would clearly discover that what you usually practiced and what you could truly bring out against an enemy still had a stretch of distance between them.

Chen Mo stared at the tall apprentice's feet.

Every time his opponent moved, he wasted none of his motion.

When he advanced one step, his body followed with it.

When he retreated one step, his center of gravity withdrew as well.

After throwing a punch, he did not fling his entire body forward.

Even when evading, he did not simply retreat backward.

Sometimes he only shifted half a step to the side.

Sometimes he merely tilted his shoulder.

There were even times when he moved his feet only the tiniest bit.

"So that's how it is."

Chen Mo spoke softly.

Zhao Chuan asked, "What did you figure out?"

"His feet."

"His feet?"

"Yeah."

Chen Mo nodded toward the tips of his own shoes.

"Look at his feet when he throws a punch. They never lose order."

Zhao Chuan watched for a while.

"How come I can't see it?"

"Because you only watch the fists."

Chen Mo said, "I used to watch only the fists too."

At that, even he chuckled.

"Later, I realized the fist was only the final part."

Zhao Chuan listened with an expression that suggested he half understood.

But Wang Lie suddenly spoke.

"His waist."

Chen Mo turned his head.

Wang Lie stared at the ring.

"His waist never loses alignment."

Chen Mo paused.

Then he nodded.

"That's right."

Neither of them spoke again.

They watched for a while longer.

The more Chen Mo watched, the clearer it became to him.

What he lacked now was more than he had imagined.

His strength was insufficient.

His speed was insufficient too.

His experience was even more lacking.

But those were not the most troublesome parts.

The truly troublesome thing was that he only knew where others were strong, yet he still could not do the same.

It was like watching someone weave a bamboo basket.

You could clearly see how he bent the bamboo strips and folded them along the grain.

But when it was your turn to work, the bamboo strips would still snap in your hands.

"We're still quite far apart."

Chen Mo could not help muttering.

Zhao Chuan asked, "What's far apart?"

"The gap between me and them."

Zhao Chuan fell silent for a moment.

Then he said, "Then chase after them slowly."

"You make it sound easy."

"It was easy to begin with."

Zhao Chuan grinned.

"You never said you were going to catch up by tomorrow."

Chen Mo thought about it.

"True."

But Wang Lie suddenly headed toward the training ground.

Zhao Chuan froze.

"What are you doing?"

"Training."

Wang Lie did not look back.

"What good was watching?"

Zhao Chuan glanced at Chen Mo.

"Did something get to him?"

Chen Mo rubbed his nose.

"Probably."

The two followed him over.

Wang Lie stopped before a wooden post, but did not rush to throw a punch.

He planted his feet first.

Then he threw a punch.

Bang!

The wooden post swayed.

A second punch.

A third.

He was not fast.

But every strike was more earnest than usual.

Chen Mo watched for a while and suddenly noticed that Wang Lie was adjusting his footwork.

When he threw the first punch, his stance had clearly been somewhat stiff.

It was a little better by the second.

By the third, he had changed his position again.

Chen Mo smiled.

"This guy isn't just all brute force."

Zhao Chuan said, "If he heard you say that, he'd definitely pick a fight with you."

"Then I won't say it."

"Too late. I remembered it."

Chen Mo glared at him.

"Don't go spreading it around."

Zhao Chuan laughed so hard he could barely stop.

The atmosphere on the training ground gradually heated up.

Those returning from field duty threw themselves back into training.

Some practiced their fists.

Some practiced their legs.

Some found partners to exchange moves with.

Others, like Chen Mo, stood before the wooden posts and repeated the most basic movements over and over.

Chen Mo set his stance again.

The balls of his feet sank slightly.

His body steadied with them.

He no longer looked at the senior trainees.

He simply followed his own rhythm, throwing punch after punch.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The gap ahead of him truly was enormous.

But he did not find it all that embarrassing.

After all, how long had he been training?

It was perfectly normal that he could not yet do what others could.

What truly mattered to him was—would he be able to do it in the future?

After completing the Seventy-Three Forms once, Chen Mo shook out his aching wrists.

Zhao Chuan sidled over from nearby.

"Again tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"What about the Quarterly Assessment?"

"Keep going with that too."

"Then what rank are you aiming for?"

Chen Mo thought for a moment.

"Top ten."

Zhao Chuan raised an eyebrow.

"You really dare to say it."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Chen Mo smiled.

"I never said I had to be first."

"The top ten won't be easy to get into either."

"Then I'll squeeze my way forward."

After saying that, he looked at his fists again.

The calluses on his palms had grown thicker from the work of the past few days.

"First, I'll get in. Then we'll talk."

Zhao Chuan nodded.

"Alright."

The two returned to the wooden posts.

The setting sun shone in from beyond the training ground, stretching the posts' shadows long.

Chen Mo raised his fist.

This time, he did not think about how strong those senior trainees were.

He merely planted his feet firmly.

Then he threw a punch.