No Effort Is Wasted

The sun had yet to rise, but the line of people coming to Celebration Hall to become apprentices already stretched from the main gate to the mouth of the alley.

Deng Qing squatted at the end of the line, pressing the cloth bundle in his arms again and again. Inside were three taels of silver—the entirety of what he had saved over the past year.

He had been transported here for a full year. If misery were a contest among transmigrators, he dared say he could take first place.

He had slept on barren slopes, gnawed tree bark to stave off hunger, and carried coffins for others.

He had tried some of those transmigrator survival guides he had read before crossing over, and every attempt had ended in miserable failure.

In these chaotic times, there was no room for such fancy tricks.

Deng Qing endured at the back of the line for half an hour before his turn finally came.

The bookkeeper with a pair of figure-eight mustaches opened the cloth bundle he handed over and counted it. "Exactly three taels. Name?"

"Deng Qing."

With a stroke of his brush, the man handed him a wooden plaque half a palm long. "Celebration" was carved on the front, and "Apprentice" on the back.

Deng Qing tied the plaque around his waist and touched it over and over.

He knew that in Everjoy County, this thing could sometimes truly save a life.

After receiving the plaque, he was led into the front courtyard.

The courtyard was broad, roughly two hundred square meters. Blue bricks paved the ground, wooden stakes stood in rows, and more than a dozen men in white robes stood beneath the corridors on either side.

Deng Qing took his place in the courtyard. After waiting a while, the hundred-odd people who had registered had all gathered.

Suddenly, a sharp gaze shot toward them. It was indeed Hall Master Li Dashan, emerging from the hall.

He was broad as a bear, like a mountain, and he walked over to sit in a grand chair beneath the corridor.

"Kneel."

A white-bearded man shouted, and everyone dropped to their knees in unison.

Li Dashan set down his teacup and said in a ringing voice, "From today onward, since you bear the plaque of my Celebration Hall, you shall obey the rules of my Celebration Hall.

"Those who betray their master and forsake their ancestors—kill.

"Those who rape, plunder, and abduct—kill.

"Those who use Celebration Hall's name to run wild outside—kill."

At the three pronouncements of death, everyone's faces turned pale.

"Of course, if anyone bullies you for no reason, do not bring disgrace upon Celebration Hall either."

Everyone voiced their assent.

"Kowtow."

Deng Qing followed the others and bowed his head to the ground. Once, twice, three times.

"Today, as you enter the hall, I will perform the Tiger-Subduing Fist once. How much you remember will depend on your own fortune."

Before Li Dashan's words had faded, he had already moved.

Deng Qing saw only a blur before his eyes. Li Dashan's broad, solid frame was astonishingly light, and when he threw a punch, the wind exploded with it.

Deng Qing's heart burned. This was martial arts!

Several dozen breaths later, Li Dashan withdrew his stance and pointed at a round-faced man beneath the corridor. "Fan Sheng, take them."

Having said that, he strode away.

The moment Li Dashan left, the oppressive weight filling the courtyard suddenly eased.

Fan Sheng swept his gaze across the crowd. "Do not celebrate yet. What you hold are apprentice plaques.

"Within three months, you must gain entry into the Tiger-Subduing Fist, generate strength in your skin and flesh, and touch upon Skin Tempering First Layer before you count as registered disciples.

"Only then will your plaques be recarved and your names entered into the register. Only then may you tell others that you belong to Celebration Hall.

"Once three months pass, if you have yet to reach Skin Tempering First Layer, then your fate with Celebration Hall will have come to an end."

Everyone in Everjoy County knew this rule, so it raised no discussion.

Fan Sheng said, "What Master demonstrated just now was the complete framework of the Tiger-Subduing Fist. It contains stance training and is best suited for your initiation. First learn three forms—Crouching Body, Probing Claw, and Sinking Shoulder."

After saying that, he demonstrated the three forms three times before stepping aside.

The crowd immediately began to imitate them, their postures all twisted every which way.

Deng Qing found a corner and began practicing Crouching Body as well. With a thud, he fell flat on the ground. He was simply too weak.

He lay on the ground, his fingernails digging into the cracks between the bricks. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back up and continued practicing.

Before long, he fell again. He pushed himself up, fell again, rose again, and clenched his teeth as he carried on with the fist forms.

Just as sweat soaked his entire body and his vision began to blur, a wisp of light suddenly drifted from his eyes and condensed into a phantom screen before him.

[Heaven helps those who help themselves; No Effort Is Wasted]
[Realm: Mortal]
[Tiger-Subduing Fist: 0%]

Deng Qing dropped to the ground on his backside, and the grievances he had accumulated over the past year burst forth like floodwaters breaking through a dam.

"Fate... you... fuck your mother... why did you only show up now?!"

The light screen flickered and vanished.

"Fate... don't..."

Deng Qing was certain this was no illusion. He must have awakened the legendary destiny.

He came to that conclusion not because it hurt, but because there was no way he could have thought of the phrase "No Effort Is Wasted" himself.

He sat on the ground for quite a while before struggling to his feet and shuffling beneath the corridor to catch his breath.

The big yellow dog lying beneath the corridor suddenly got up and barked at him. Deng Qing shot it a sidelong glare and was about to curse when his gaze swept over the dog bowl, and tears came to his eyes.

The rim of that dog bowl actually gleamed with a layer of oil!!!

"That is all for today. Dismissed. From now on, fist instruction will be given every fifth day of each month. Do not delay your affairs."

At Fan Sheng's shout, the crowd dispersed.

Deng Qing glanced once more at the dog bowl, then slowly rose while supporting himself against a corridor pillar.

Gritting his teeth, he rammed himself into the pillar.

In the western wing, the light was dim. Deng Qing suddenly opened his eyes, and his stomach reacted before his mind did, twisting in a fierce cramp.

Smelling food, Deng Qing sprang upright and followed the scent toward a low table.

A bamboo basket sat on the table, holding several coarse-grain cakes steamed from buckwheat and millet.

Beside the basket sat a rough porcelain bowl. A layer of oil floated atop the meat broth, and half a bone with no meat on it poked out from the surface.

He lunged at it as if by reflex.

After wolfing it down like a whirlwind sweeping away fallen leaves, he clutched the empty bowl and licked it again and again, his chest heaving violently.

"I have never seen such a ferocious way of eating in my life."

Deng Qing startled, only then noticing someone seated beside the desk to his right. The man wore a white robe, a wooden plaque at his waist, and held a book in his hand. It was Fan Sheng, who had taught them the forms earlier.

He hurriedly set down the bowl, rose, and saluted him. "Senior Brother Fan, I am truly sorry for the trouble. I fainted from hunger earlier and caused you inconvenience."

"I can tell the difference between fainting from hunger and fainting from smashing yourself into something."

Fan Sheng looked at him with a half-smile.

His trick exposed, Deng Qing gave a dry laugh and did not argue.

"No need to feel embarrassed."

Fan Sheng waved a hand. "Even Master knows about you now."

Deng Qing froze.

"Master said that if you were hungry enough to knock yourself unconscious just to scam a meal, then you must truly have been starving. And if, even starving to that extent, you still gritted your teeth and scraped together three taels of silver to become an apprentice, then you are clearly someone with ambition."

Fan Sheng rose, his tone turning lighter. "Heaven helps those who help themselves. That crash of yours knocked you right into a rice bowl.

"Master has spoken. You may stay outside the front gate to sweep the grounds and tie up horses. You will get two full meals a day."

Deng Qing's eyes lit up at once.

"No wages. Will you do it?"

"I will!"

Deng Qing did not need to calculate this account in detail.

Winter was approaching, and there was little work outside to begin with. Even if he found some, a full day of exhausting labor might not earn him a single full meal.

More importantly, if finding food consumed all his energy, how could he have any strength left to practice fist techniques?

Staying at Celebration Hall was different. The work was not heavy, and if he could fill his belly, he would have the energy to train.

By the time Deng Qing left Celebration Hall, night had completely fallen.

He retied the wooden plaque at his waist and headed west through the streets.

With food in his stomach, he finally had a little warmth in his body.

As he neared the back alley behind the ruined temple, the firewood gate ahead suddenly opened a crack. Aunt Zhang poked half her face out and frantically waved at him.

Deng Qing's steps halted, and his heart gave a thump.

These past few days, they had been seizing able-bodied men. Several alleys in the west of the city had been turned upside down.

Deng Qing realized something was wrong and turned to run.

He had barely taken a few steps when a shout rang out from the alley. "Over there!" Footsteps immediately grew dense behind him.

Deng Qing gritted his teeth and sprinted madly, his chest rasping like a broken bellows. Just as he ran with his face twisted in agony, a hand suddenly seized his collar from behind.

He was yanked stumbling backward and slammed into the wall with a bang.

Before he could catch his breath, two men had already pounced on him. One pinned his shoulder, the other twisted his wrist behind his back, and then Deng Qing's hands were bound tight with hemp rope.