Shi Yong Crippled

The eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, and the sky had not yet fully brightened.

When Ye An came out of the room, Ye Ning was already awake. His complexion was much better than in the past few days, and his eye sockets were no longer deeply sunken.

Ye An stood at the doorway as the morning light began to spread across the ground.

It shone upon the white-washed short jacket on his body.

Ye Ning lay on the bed, quietly gazing at the threshold. Sunlight washed over Ye An's entire body and also illuminated his face.

Ye Ning's gaze swept across Ye An.

The sensory perception between body-tempering martial artists was very sharp, and Ye Ning was a martial artist too.

At this moment, Ye An resembled a sharp sword that had just been unsheathed!

His edge was not yet fully exposed, but the sword body was vibrating slightly.

"Today's martial arts exchange meeting?" Ye Ning asked.

"Mn."

Ye Ning smiled slightly.

"Originally I wanted to persuade you not to go find Shi Yong, but I've discovered I seem unable to persuade you anymore."

"How is it?"

"Not bad." This sentence was Ye Ning's highest evaluation.

He looked into Ye An's eyes, only to find that Ye An's expression was just like the time at the mine.

No nervousness, no fear, calm from start to finish.

At the time, everyone said Ye An could not beat Zhao Heng, and everyone said Ye An was going to his death, but he won.

He slapped the faces of quite a few people.

Ye Ning closed his eyes, leaning against the pillow.

"Go." His voice was very soft, finally mustering his breath.

"Remember to strike a bit heavier, and take care of yourself."

Ye An smiled deeply, nodding in response.

"Rest assured."

"I know what to do."

The South Market training grounds were a sea of heads, with the five martial arts halls each occupying a corner. Flags hung from bamboo poles, snapping loudly in the north wind.

The combat stage was set up in the center of the training grounds, a foot high and square in shape.

People from the four major families sat in the spectator stands.

The Zhou Family, Sun Family, Li Family, and Wang Family had each sent one principal personage.

Beneath the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall's flag stood Su Yuanshan, Su Qing, Zhao Tieshan, and Qian Duoduo.

Zhou Yuanlong and Sun Wanqing were not present; before the drawing of lots had even begun, the two of them had slipped away to their respective family positions.

They were people of the four major families to begin with, and their main purpose in going to the martial arts hall was to recruit talented martial artists.

Therefore, returning so openly caused no one to say anything.

Wang Jinse stood at the Wang Family's spectator position, still wearing that same light blue dress; this time she was not carrying a food box in her hand.

She had arrived very early, standing behind the Wang Family principal, her gaze constantly sweeping back and forth between the training ground entrance and the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall.

"Where is Ye An?" Qian Duoduo looked left and right, failing to find that familiar figure.

Su Qing said nothing.

Zhao Tieshan leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, not answering Qian Duoduo's question.

Wang Jinse also noticed that beneath the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall's flag, that figure wearing the white-washed short jacket was missing.

A slight stir passed through her heart, an indescribable feeling.

Disappointment? A little. Expected? Also a little.

She recalled the days when she brought sweet-scented osmanthus cake to Ye An, when that person would forever have only three words: "Leave it there." Neither enthusiastic nor indifferent.

She told her family that Ye An was much too difficult to recruit and talking to him was too exhausting, so she gave up.

This was the truth, but not all of it. She gave up not because talking to Ye An was somewhat tiring, but because she felt that in Ye An's eyes, she was no different from the wooden dummy at the martial arts hall entrance.

He did not care about her, so Wang Jinse had left.

Yet today, she stood here, her eyes still unable to resist glancing toward the training ground entrance.

Qian Duoduo's heart began to beat wildly; it was fine if Ye An didn't come. Shi Yong was at the Third Body Tempering while Ye An was at the Second Body Tempering—separated by a major realm, what would he use to fight?

Coming would only mean getting hurt; if he didn't come, at least he would be safe.

In the distance, Zhou Yuanlong sat in the Zhou Family's position, glanced toward the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall, and sneered.

"Still not here?" Sun Wanqing stood beside him, following his gaze over.

"Afraid he won't show." The corners of Zhou Yuanlong's mouth rose into a sinister smile.

Sun Wanqing joined in with the mockery.

"He understands the situation much better than that Lin Shaoyun; at least he won't end up half-crippled."

"True." Zhou Yuanlong unfolded his folding fan, fanning himself with pretentious affectation.

The elder presiding over the exchange meeting stepped onto the stage and cleared his throat. "The rules are the same as in previous years. Each martial arts hall sends one disciple to duel by drawing lots; the victors advance, and the defeated are eliminated. The one who remains on the stage at the end is this year's victor!"

Over at the Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall, Shi Yong stood up from his chair and walked onto the stage.

He drew a lot from the elder's hand and handed it to the elder.

After reading it, the elder announced, "Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall, bye."

A soft murmuring sounded from beneath the stage. A bye—no need to fight in the first round, advancing directly.

That was fine too; whoever ran into someone at the Third Body Tempering was out of luck. Getting a bye like this wasn't bad either.

The Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall sent out a trainee at the mid-stage second body tempering.

The Changfeng Martial Arts Hall also sent out a mid-stage second body tempering.

The Baishi Martial Arts Hall sent out yet another mid-stage second body tempering.

Zhao Tieshan's movements were unsteady, but he still gritted his teeth and walked step by step onto the stage.

Su Qing looked at his back and clenched her fists. Zhao Tieshan's injuries had not yet healed, and one could tell from his walk that his movements were not fluid.

"Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall, Zhao Tieshan," the elder called out the name.

The first match: Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall versus Changfeng Martial Arts Hall.

The trainee sent by the Changfeng Martial Arts Hall was surnamed Meng, called Meng Qing, at the mid-stage second body tempering. The two cupped their fists, the elder gave the order, and the bout began.

Zhao Tieshan extended his right hand, index and middle fingers pressed together, and pointed out with a single finger. He had practiced his Azure Cloud Finger for many years; although he had not broken through to the Third Body Tempering, his finger technique was long since committed to heart. This finger carried his entire weight as it thrust out.

Meng Qing sidestepped to dodge and returned a punch. Zhao Tieshan thrust out his finger once more, striking the surface of Meng Qing's fist and producing a muffled thud.

The two retreated a step simultaneously.

Three moves, five moves, seven moves.

The corners of Zhao Tieshan's mouth began to ooze blood as his hidden injuries acted up.

Every single one of his finger thrusts carried a fierce tenacity, as if he were not engaging in a match, but fighting for his life!

On the tenth move, Zhao Tieshan poked a finger into the hollow of Meng Qing's shoulder. Meng Qing's entire arm went numb, his movements slowing by half a beat.

Zhao Tieshan did not pursue, merely taking a step back and retracting his finger. Meng Qing looked at his own shoulder, then looked at Zhao Tieshan, and cupped his fists. "I lost."

Zhao Tieshan withdrew his hand, turned around, steadied himself against the edge of the stage, and walked down step by step.

He showed no reaction, nor did he look back. Su Qing went up to support him, but he waved his hand and refused the help.

The second match: Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall versus Baishi Martial Arts Hall. The Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall trainee defeated his opponent in three moves and advanced.

The next match: Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall received a bye, entering the finals directly.

Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall versus Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall. Shi Yong walked onto the stage and threw a single punch. The Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall trainee flew backward, smashed against the edge of the stage, and could not get back up.

The final match: Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall versus Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall!

As the words fell, Zhao Tieshan braced himself against the wall, stood up, and walked toward the stage.

"Senior Brother, your injuries..." Su Qing called out to him. Zhao Tieshan stopped and looked back.

"It's fine." Zhao Tieshan feigned composure.

Shi Yong stood on the stage, arms crossed over his chest, a meticulous sneer hanging on the corners of his mouth. "Senior Brother Zhao, with this body of yours, can you still fight?"

Zhao Tieshan said nothing. Su Qing glanced at Su Yuanshan, and at this moment the two of them seemed about to say "forfeit" at the exact same time.

"Senior Brother, that's enough." Su Qing's voice carried a slight tremor, but Zhao Tieshan did not move.

"He's not coming." Wang Jinse kept gazing in the direction of the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall.

Shi Yong stood on the stage, enjoying the gazes of everyone focused on him at this moment; today, he was the protagonist.

The presiding elder stepped onto the stage and was just about to announce—

"Wait!"

A familiar voice rang out, and those present turned their heads to look toward the source.

At the training ground entrance, a figure walked in. His pace was unhurried, wearing a faded short jacket and dark gray gloves on his hands. Sunlight shone upon him, casting his shadow very long.

The training grounds fell silent for an instant.

Zhao Tieshan stopped in his tracks and looked over.

Qian Duoduo raised his head.

Su Qing covered her mouth.

The corners of Su Yuanshan's mouth twitched and then remained still, his hand holding the teacup steady.

Wang Jinse's gaze landed upon that figure. Her heartbeat skipped a beat. It was not because of fear, nor was it astonishment; it was something she could not put into words.

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Ye An walked past her without looking at her, but she caught sight of his profile—still the same, neither enthusiastic, nor indifferent, nor caring.

Yet this time, she suddenly felt that this sort of indifference did not seem quite so annoying after all.

Zhou Yuanlong showed no astonishment, instead using his fan to block the petty expression on his face.

Sun Wanqing's gaze sharpened, her eyes brimming with malicious intent.

Ye An walked past them without looking at them, stepping one pace after another toward the stage.

Shi Yong did not move. He stood right in the center of the stage, arms crossed over his chest, that habitual smile hanging at the corners of his mouth like a cat watching a mouse walk into a cage. His gaze swept over Ye An's entire body and paused for an instant.

"Third Body Tempering?"

His voice was not loud, but in the quiet training grounds, everyone heard it clearly.

An explosive murmur erupted from beneath the stage.

"Third Body Tempering? Ye An?"

"When did he break through? Wasn't he at the Second Body Tempering?"

"No wonder he dared to come."

Su Yuanshan stared at Ye An's back, his eyelids twitching. "Good lad!" He lowered his head, took a sip of tea, and the corners of his mouth curved upward slightly, that trace of a smile concealed by the teacup.

Su Qing covered her mouth, her eye rims turning red.

Zhao Tieshan leaned against the wall, watching the youth on the stage without speaking, but the fingers gripping the edge of the wall loosened.

Qian Duoduo hung his mouth open, but the expression of astonishment failed to squeeze out a single word.

Wang Jinse stood at the Wang Family spectator position, her heartbeat skipping a beat, feeling something she could not put into words.

Zhou Yuanlong's folding fan froze mid-air, the petty smile on his face stiffening.

Sun Wanqing dispersed her previous gaze and said nothing.

Shi Yong looked at Ye An, the corners of his mouth lifting a fraction as he shook his head. "Third Body Tempering. You have a bit of skill, but it's not enough."

The elder glanced at the two of them and raised his hand.

"The bout begins."

Shi Yong still did not make a move. He stood in place as if in no rush to strike, watching Ye An.

"I heard that Ye Ning from the Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall is your biological older brother?"

Ye An did not respond, instead suppressing certain emotions within himself.

"Remember when I crippled him? He didn't even let out a single sound," Shi Yong said with a smile, his tone as if chatting about an interesting matter. "I wonder if your bones are as hard as his?"

Ye An smiled. He had stopped suppressing his fury, yet he did not let this surge of anger cloud his mind.

He had waited far too long for this moment; he could spare a fraction of an instance longer. Ye An extended three fingers, his voice not loud, but every single word clear.

"Three moves. If I don't cripple you in three moves, I am your spawn."

The space beneath the stage fell silent. No one laughed, and everyone watched Ye An.

Shi Yong's smile vanished. His gaze turned cold, and the corners of his mouth pulled downward by an inch.

"Shameless trash," Shi Yong squeezed out from between his teeth. "Originally I intended to leave you a lowly dog's life. Since you're courting death, I'll grant your wish."

Before his voice had even faded, he kicked off the ground, his entire body springing forward like a cannonball. Shattering Iron Fist, the signature martial art of the Iron Fist Martial Arts Hall, renowned for its unyielding ferocity.

Shi Yong had immersed himself in this single punch for many years, and his knuckles were already harder than an iron plate. A single punch down could smash blue bricks into gravel and snap human bones into sections.

This punch headed straight for Ye An's face, leaving no room and holding back no reserve, intent on crippling him with one blow.

Ye An did not retreat, did not dodge, and used no techniques whatsoever.

He intended to use the momentum of a thunderbolt to cripple him before anyone could react.

Ye An stepped forward, the wooden planks on the stage creaking under his step as if unable to bear the weight of that single footfall.

The five fingers of Ye An's right hand closed together and thrust straight out!

The power-generation method of the Azure Cloud Finger was compressed by him to the absolute limit—power transmitted up from the soles of his feet, twisted up from his waist and hips, delivered up from his shoulders, passing through his elbows and wrists, and finally gathering at his fingertips!

The power transmission across three joints was compressed into a single straight line by him without loss or lag; the intent arrived, and the fingertips arrived!

Shi Yong's fist smashed over, and Ye An's fingers met it head-on.

The instant his fingertips made contact with the fist surface, Ye An did not clash hard.

His wrist sank slightly, his fingertips sliding through the gaps in Shi Yong's knuckles, skimming past the surface of the fist bones to poke directly into his right forearm.

Shi Yong's entire right arm felt as though it had been pricked by a needle, suffering a momentary numbness from his fingers all the way to his shoulder.

Before he could withdraw his fist, Ye An's second finger followed close behind.

This finger thrust straight into the inner side of Shi Yong's elbow joint.

There was no muscle protection here, only tendons right beneath the skin.

Internal Energy surged out from his fingertips, driving in like a needle.

Shi Yong's right arm completely lost all sensation, hanging at his side like a wooden stick dangling from his shoulder.

Shi Yong's eyes widened abruptly, a trace of fear now in his gaze.

His mouth opened, but before he could manage to utter a sound, Ye An's third finger had already bypassed his front.

Ye An shifted his footwork, his entire body sliding from Shi Yong's front around to his side.

Ye An's body was like a knife, cutting straight through Shi Yong's defense line. His right shoulder pressed against the underside of Shi Yong's armpit, and his left hand clamped onto Shi Yong's left shoulder, pulling his body forward with a jerk.

Shi Yong's body lost its balance and pitched forward.

He caught sight of the ground, saw his own shadow, saw the red silk fluttering at the edge of the arena, and saw his master, Lei Meng, rise to his feet.

Immediately afterward, Ye An's finger poked down!

This single strike stabbed down like a needle.

His index and middle fingers were pressed together, fingertips pointing downward, aiming right for the gap between the third and fourth vertebrae of Shi Yong's back.

With a sudden thrust, he struck!

This was the most vulnerable spot along the entire spine, devoid of muscle protection, unshielded by bone, covered by nothing more than a thin layer of skin.

Internal Energy surged out from the fingertips, condensing into a single beam like an invisible awl.

At the very last second, Ye An's wrist gave a gentle twist. This stream of Internal Energy drilled inward while rotating, just like a screw biting into wood or a viper's fangs piercing blood vessels.

"Stop right there!"

Lei Meng sprang up from his chair. The chair flipped backward, crashing heavily onto the ground, and no one dared to step forward to right it.

His face swelled to the color of a pig's liver, bulging veins throbbing from his neck all the way to his forehead, and his eyes burned bloodred.

He pointed a finger toward the arena, his knuckles popping loudly.

Yet he was too far from the arena, his voice was too slow, and his arms were too short.

Ye An's finger had already tapped against Shi Yong's spine.

Crack—

The sound of snapping bone, the sound of dislocating joints!

These two noises were very soft, but everyone at the edge of the arena heard them clearly.

After those two sounds echoed outward, the entire drill ground fell completely silent.

Shi Yong's body slammed onto the arena floor. His legs were still kicking, but his waist could no longer move.

His fingers clawed at the wooden planks as if trying to grab hold of something, yet he could grasp nothing at all. His mouth hung open, and a rattling wheeze, wheeze sound escaped his throat like a rusted bellows.

His spine was broken; from this day onward, the lower half of his body would never feel sensation again.

"You brat—how dare you!"

As Lei Meng took a step forward, Su Yuanshan picked up his teacup and rose at a leisurely pace.

"Want to fight? I'll keep you company."

The two men locked gazes. Lei Meng's fists clenched so tightly they creaked, yet he did not make a move. Su Yuanshan held his teacup, his fingers as steady as a mountain.

Ye An withdrew his hand, stood up, and straightened his torso. Then he turned around to face Lei Meng down below the stage.

Ye An glanced at his own right hand, giving his wrist a light turn that caused his knuckles to pop twice.

A trace of dust clung to the fingertips of the Iron Sand Gloves. He flicked his wrist, shaking off the non-existent grime from the gloves with an action as casual as if he had just finished a routine practice session. Then he lowered his hand, staring straight at Lei Meng.

"Old thing, do you also want to spar with me a bit? I'm standing right here."

The entire crowd shook with shock.

No one spoke. Up in the viewing stands, the leaders of the Four Major Families exchanged glances, but none of them uttered a word.

Zhou Yuanlong's folding fan dropped to the ground and remained unpicked. Sun Wanqing bit her lip, her complexion turning pale.

Wang Jinse stood in the Wang Family's viewing section, her hands clutching the hem of her garment. There was something indescribable in her eyes—something that had never been there before, like a seed falling into soil.

Lei Meng's face shifted from red to cyan, then from cyan to white. His lips quivered a few times before he finally squeezed a few words out from between his teeth.

"This old man disdains to bicker with a junior like you."

Su Yuanshan held his teacup, standing beneath the banner of the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall. The corners of his mouth curved upward slightly, that trace of a smile unhidden by the teacup.

Zhao Tieshan leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched, and this single smile finally released the pressure he had bottled up for so long.

Su Qing's tears fell, and she turned away so no one would see.

Qian Duoduo was even more astounded that the person he had once tried to recruit at the First Body Tempering stage had become a Third Body Tempering expert after just a few months.

The presiding elder stepped onto the arena with a horrified expression, squatted down, and checked Shi Yong's condition. He pressed a hand against Shi Yong's spine, his fingers lingering there before he raised his head, his voice turning somewhat hoarse.

"His spine is broken; his martial path is ruined."

"The winner—Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall, Ye An!"

The drill ground fell hushed for a fraction of a moment, and then erupted into deafening cheers.

In this match, Ye An's appearance completely reversed what had seemed like a settled outcome.

It was not only the people from the Green Bamboo Martial Arts Hall shouting; the members of the Black Tiger Martial Arts Hall, the Changfeng Martial Arts Hall, and the Baishi Martial Arts Hall—all those who had once been beaten, suffered broken bones, and had their confidence shattered by Shi Yong—were shouting as well.

Ye An stood in the center of the arena, listening to those sounds without a single expression on his face. He turned around and walked down the stage, step by step, unhurried and steady.

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