Different When They Returned

The day after the seven left, Blue Martial Arts Hall carried on with its usual fist practice.

The third day was the same.

By the fourth day, though the Outer Courtyard disciples said nothing, their eyes kept drifting toward the gate.

Especially in the afternoon.

Whenever hoofbeats passed along the street, Zhao Chuan was always the first to look up.

"They're back?"

Zhou Ye did not even raise his head.

"No."

"How did you know?"

"Those hoofbeats just now only had two beats."

"..."

Zhao Chuan lowered his head again.

"You can even tell that apart?"

"You could too, if you listened for a few more years."

"I don't want to practice that."

Though he said so, Zhao Chuan could not help casting another glance outside.

Chen Mo was practicing his fists.

The Seventy-Three Forms Basic Fist had become his fixed daily routine.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His movements had not become particularly graceful, but they were far steadier than when he had first begun.

Halfway through a set, a burst of chaotic hoofbeats suddenly came from outside.

This time, everyone stopped.

Zhao Chuan was the first to rush to the gate.

"They're back!"

No one laughed at him.

Because everyone had heard it.

There was more than one horse outside.

There were also footsteps.

Voices.

And the sound of wheels rolling over stone slabs.

But strangely, no one shouted, and no one laughed.

A moment later, the main gate opened.

Instructor He walked at the very front.

Chen Mo took just one look, and his fists slowly loosened.

Seven people.

Not one was missing.

But compared to when they had set out, they were completely different.

Instructor He's left shoulder was wrapped in thick cloth, and his right hand was still braced against the saddle.

Not one of the people behind him was uninjured either.

Someone had cloth wrapped around his forehead.

Someone else clearly did not dare put weight on his right leg.

Another person kept holding onto the shoulder of the companion beside him as he walked.

Their clothes were covered in mud.

Several places had even been torn open.

Even their leather armor, which had originally looked sturdy, bore obvious damage.

The courtyard fell silent at once.

The smile slowly vanished from Zhao Chuan's face.

He had originally been ready to rush over and ask about the mountains.

But now, he could not utter a single word.

Instructor He swung down from his horse.

The instant his feet touched the ground, his body swayed.

The people beside him hurriedly caught him.

"Instructor He."

"I'm fine."

Instructor He waved a hand.

"Hand over the things first."

The hall master and Instructor Li had already hurried out to meet them.

"Is everyone here?"

"Everyone."

Instructor He nodded.

"Where are the things?"

"Behind us."

Several people led the cart carrying their things into the courtyard.

The hall master took one look at their injuries, and his expression darkened.

"Go to the clinic first."

Instructor He said:

"The mission still hasn't..."

"We can talk about the mission later."

The hall master cut him off.

"Treat your injuries first."

Instructor He fell silent for a moment.

"Fine."

Several senior disciples were led away.

But the Outer Courtyard apprentices did not disperse.

Everyone remained where they stood.

No one excitedly asked whether the mountains were fun anymore.

After holding it in for a long while, Zhao Chuan finally asked.

"Senior Brother."

A young senior disciple turned back.

"What?"

"Did you... encounter many mountain beasts?"

The man glanced at him.

"Yes."

"Many?"

"More than before."

Just that one sentence.

Zhao Chuan opened his mouth.

He still wanted to ask more.

But the other man had already followed the others away.

Someone beside them could not help saying:

"They were only a few wild beasts."

The speaker was Zhao Ming.

His face was somewhat pale.

Yet he deliberately smiled.

"There have always been wild beasts in the mountains."

"They've trained for so many years. It's normal to get hurt a little."

Zhao Chuan looked at him.

"But all seven of them were injured."

"So what?"

Zhao Ming raised his voice slightly.

"When our skills are fully honed in the future, we'll only be stronger than them."

After saying that, he turned and left.

No one responded.

Wang Lie stood where he was, watching a senior disciple being helped into the rear courtyard.

That man's leg was clearly not moving naturally.

Wang Lie suddenly asked:

"Zhou Ye."

"Yeah?"

"If this were on the training ground, and I knocked him down, he could still get back up."

Zhou Ye did not understand.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that senior brother from just now."

Wang Lie pointed toward the rear courtyard.

"That leg of his."

Zhou Ye fell silent.

Wang Lie continued:

"If this were on the training ground, after he fell, he would at most lie there for a while."

"But the mountains aren't like that."

This time, Zhou Ye understood.

"No one in the mountains calls a halt."

Wang Lie nodded.

Zhao Chuan heard this from the side, and the expression on his face slowly changed as well.

"Don't make it sound so frightening."

Zhou Ye looked at him.

"We aren't trying to frighten you."

"It's just that we never thought about it before."

Zhao Chuan said quietly.

They fought too in their daily lives.

They sparred too.

Losing hurt, made them fall, made them gasp for breath.

But as long as Instructor Li called for a stop, everyone stopped.

No matter how vicious the fight became, there was medicine, someone to help them, and somewhere to lie down.

There was none of that in the mountains.

Chen Mo had not said a word the entire time.

He walked over to where that senior disciple had just passed.

A small scrap of torn cloth lay on the ground.

It had probably been ripped from clothing or a leg wrap.

He crouched down to pick it up, looked at it twice, then placed it back on the ground.

Zhao Chuan came over.

"Chen Mo."

"Yeah?"

"What do you think they encountered this time?"

Chen Mo shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Aren't you the best at observing?"

"I didn't go in."

"Then take a guess."

Chen Mo thought for a moment.

"It might be harder than anything we've faced before."

Zhao Chuan gave a wry smile.

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Then why did you ask me?"

Zhao Chuan had nothing to say.

Training resumed that afternoon.

But the grounds were much quieter than usual.

Whenever someone fell before, someone would laugh.

Not today.

Whenever someone slacked off before, others would egg them on.

Not today either.

Everyone seemed to be secretly watching their own fists and feet.

The Seventy-Three Forms.

One move, one form.

As ordinary as could be.

Zhao Ming struck with particular force.

Smack!

His fist slammed into the wooden post.

The post swayed.

He did not stop.

A second punch.

A third.

A fourth.

Someone beside him warned him.

"Your hand's going to swell."

"I'm fine."

Zhao Ming gritted his teeth and continued.

Wang Lie watched for a while.

"You're hitting too impatiently today."

Zhao Ming stopped.

"I know."

"You know, yet you're still doing this?"

Zhao Ming looked at him.

"I just want to see how far behind I really am."

Wang Lie said nothing more.

He walked over to another wooden post.

And began practicing as well.

But this time, he was no longer blindly pursuing strength as he had before.

After every punch landed, he adjusted his footing again.

Shoulders.

Waist.

Feet.

Again and again.

Chen Mo glanced over, then reset his stance as well.

He did not think about what those senior students had encountered.

At least for now, he was not qualified to know.

But for the first time, he clearly realized something.

When they had practiced boxing at Blue Martial Arts Hall before, the "real combat" everyone spoke of was still very far from the true mountains and forests.

That night.

The Outer Courtyard had already gone dark.

Chen Mo had only just lain down when a muffled sound suddenly came from outside.

"Water..."

Someone turned over.

Then hurried, ragged breathing came from the neighboring bed.

"Huff... huff..."

Someone sat up.

Chen Mo opened his eyes.

In the darkness, the senior student who had just returned from the mountains had woken up at some point.

He did not shout.

Nor did he talk in his sleep.

He merely sat at the edge of the bed, bracing both hands on his knees, head lowered as he panted for quite a while.

The person beside him asked groggily.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"No."

The man paused.

"I had a dream."

The person beside him turned over.

"Then go back to sleep."

"Mm."

Only after a long time did the man's breathing slowly steady.

The next morning, Blue Martial Arts Hall opened as usual.

There were still plenty of people practicing their fists.

But no one stood at the entrance anymore, excitedly discussing when the senior students would return like they had a few days ago.

Zhao Chuan was still as stubbornly sharp-tongued as ever.

Zhou Ye was still as calm as ever.

Wang Lie still trained harder than anyone else.

Zhao Ming still had not left the wooden post either.

But before raising his hand each time, he would first look at it.

Chen Mo stood in the line.

Instructor Li walked past the front.

"Stand firm."

"Don't let your feet wander."

"Throw your punch, then pull it back."

His voice was the same as usual.

Chen Mo took a breath.

And set his stance again.

Smack!

His fist landed on the wooden post.

Once.

Then again.

Training continued.

And from the rear courtyard, the sounds of changing medicine and moving wooden stools could still occasionally be heard.