Training Martial Arts Is All About Nourishment

Night fell.

In the Artisans' Office courtyard,

Everyone else in the communal sleeping quarters was snoring like thunder. Only Lin Qing could not sleep.

With the Rebirth Record's aid, techniques and details of the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake kept surfacing in his mind.

"Forget it. I'll keep practicing."

Lin Qing slipped out of bed and left without a sound. He found a corner of the courtyard and resumed practicing the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake beneath the moonlight.

His movements were unhurried, but every one of them was precise.

As he practiced with full concentration, he could clearly feel his skill improving little by little. More and more details had become deeply etched in his memory; he could remember them even without the Rebirth Record.

"I need to practice again and again until the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake becomes part of my body's instincts."

Once I can reach Minor Mastery, or even Perfect Mastery, without the Rebirth Record's aid, I'll have done it, Lin Qing thought.

On the other side of a window, Shen Lian watched Lin Qing practice alone beneath the moonlight with growing interest.

He's got talent and the right temperament. I'll watch him a little longer. He has the best prospects in this courtyard; I ought to give him a hand.

Creak!

Lin Qing was deep in practice when a nearby room's door suddenly opened. A young man stepped out—the long-faced youth who had spoken so harshly and arrogantly that day.

He had moved into the courtyard that day, but only as a temporary guest. He had a room to himself, did no work, and even had an old servant attending to him.

"Ahh!" Han Juetong, the young man, yawned and headed straight for the latrine.

His gaze swept over Lin Qing practicing nearby, and he sneered. "Hmph. Martial arts come down to money and resources. You can't even afford meat, let alone medicinal supplements. What good will working yourself to death do? You'll ruin your body sooner or later. Better give up now!"

Lin Qing frowned but did not answer. Some people were rotten by nature and not worth his attention. He would focus on himself and prove everything through his actions one day.

Han Juetong let out a snort of laughter, his face full of disdain. After using the latrine, he went back to sleep.

A little later, Lin Qing slowly finished his practice and let out a long breath. He felt utterly exhausted.

As long as I'm improving, a little fatigue doesn't matter. I'm not afraid of hardship.

With that thought, Lin Qing returned to the room and fell asleep the moment his head touched the bed.

The next day.

Early that morning, the apprentices gathered in twos and threes around the courtyard, squatting or sitting as they ate breakfast from their bowls.

After Lin Qing and the other twelve were selected, they were treated considerably better than the boys who had not been chosen. Breakfast now came with a small piece of dried meat.

It was bitter and stringy, and he could not tell what kind of meat it was, but at least it offered a little nourishment.

One piece of meat was nowhere near enough, though. Lin Qing could hear everyone around him grumbling.

"Argh, training is exhausting. It's only been a few days, and my legs are so weak I can barely walk."

"Same here. Martial arts wear you down. As the old saying goes, scholarship is for the poor, martial arts for the rich. Without meat or tonics to replenish your blood and vitality, you can't keep it up for long."

"True, but we all come from poor families. Where would we get the money to eat meat every meal, never mind buy medicine?"

"Lucky Han Juetong. He's drinking a nourishing tonic right now."

Not far away, the long-faced Han Juetong was eating too: five fragrant white-flour buns, a braised chicken leg, two eggs, and a bowl of nourishing tonic as bright red as blood. The sight made everyone's eyes red with envy.

Lin Qing noticed it as well, but his heart remained as still as water.

At a thought, a simple panel appeared before him. It was another function of the Rebirth Record, allowing him to check the progress of each martial art in real time or view his overall condition.

He checked the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake. The panel showed that he had not yet reached the beginner stage; his progress was 6.8%.

I'm making progress. At this rate, I'll reach the beginner stage in two months at most. Lin Qing popped the last piece of coarse bread into his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed.

He stood to take his White Porcelain Bowl back to the kitchen, but suddenly staggered and nearly fell.

Lin Qing frowned. Han Juetong's words last night were harsh, but he had a point. If I keep training like this, I'll ruin my body sooner or later. What matters most now is getting meat to eat. But without money, where am I supposed to find any?

Passing Shen Lian's kitchen, he caught a rich aroma of meat. A glance inside showed him Shen Lian eating at a table with a grilled fish on it.

Lin Qing looked away. His stomach churned, and he could not help wanting a bite.

After returning his bowl and chopsticks, Lin Qing sat down on a stool to polish bones.

By the rules, the thirteen of them still had to work, though only for half a day. Their afternoons were reserved for martial arts training.

Lin Qing sniffed his clothes. They smelled sour.

It'll be a few more days before I can bathe and wash my clothes.

I have to become a constable at the Night Patrol Office. Meat to eat, money to spend, and a bath whenever I want—that's a life fit for a person.

No matter how I look at it, I have to fight for this chance.

Lin Qing was steady and cautious by nature, but this time he had to fight, whatever the risks.

If he fought, there was still a sliver of hope. If he did not, he would surely rot in the mire at the bottom.

That afternoon.

Lin Qing and the others arrived at the Martial Arts Arena.

Jiang Baihe did not come. His attendant, Gao Feng, was once again in charge of teaching them.

"Quiet!"

"I'll demonstrate it once. Watch carefully and listen closely."

"First move: Spirit Snake Emerges from Its Hole. Push off with your rear foot, punch along the centerline, and drive your strength all the way through..."

"Second move: Venomous Snake Swings Its Tail. Twist your waist, turn your hips, and whip your leg..."

Before long, Gao Feng had explained every detail. He shouted, "Now practice! Anyone who slacks off gets the whip!"

For the next two hours, no one dared relax. Everyone practiced the Eight Strikes of the Spirit Snake with all they had.

But most of their forms were far from correct. They could not even grasp the many details of the first move.

Whip in hand, Gao Feng walked among them, assessing each person's progress.

"Useless!"

"Another useless one!"

"No good!"

When he came up behind Lin Qing, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

"Not bad. This one has promise."

Then his gaze shifted to someone nearby who had sat down on the ground.

Gao Feng strode over and lashed him with the whip. "Get up. Keep practicing!"

"Sir, let me rest! If I keep going, I'll ruin myself!" the boy cried.

"Sir, I can't take any more either," another boy nearby said.

More than a dozen others joined in.

Gao Feng frowned. "Then rest for fifteen minutes."

Relieved, they all collapsed onto the ground.

"Training matters in martial arts, but nourishment matters even more. You need meat at every meal and supplements every day. As for how you'll get meat to eat and medicine to drink, figure it out yourselves!" Gao Feng called out.

The boys looked miserable. If they had any way to manage that, they would not be here working as hired hands.

"Master Gao, how far do we have to get to pass the assessment?" someone asked.

"By the rules of previous years, reaching the beginner stage within six months counts as a pass. Proficiency marks you as promising; Minor Mastery marks you as a prodigy. I've never heard of anyone reaching Major Mastery.

"Usually, proficiency is enough to pass, but competition is fierce this year. Proficiency won't make it certain. You'll need Minor Mastery."

"That's far too hard," a boy sighed.

The Artisans' Office courtyard.

A bluestone path led to the courtyard gate. Yang Feng was striding along it when Shen Lian suddenly hurried out, smiling. "Brother Yang, there's something I'd like to ask you about."

"What is it?" Yang Feng stopped.

"I heard Chief Commissioner Cheng and the head of the Han Family had a fierce argument at the Drunken Fragrance Tower a few days ago. Is that true?" Shen Lian asked, lowering her voice.