Black Tiger Fist Hall

Wang Yu shook out his hands. All ten fingers were completely unharmed.

On Blue Star, it was not unheard of for someone to crush a stone with one hand.

Huaguo alone had what was known as hard qigong, but every "expert" capable of such a feat had spent years painstakingly training his hands, using various external methods to make the finger bones unusually thick and the skin incredibly rough and hard, as though it had been scoured with sandpaper.

Yet he had reached this level simply by practicing a few forms from the Tiger Pounce Diagram-and had even surpassed it.

The thought of Blue Star left Wang Yu feeling down again.

After all this time, his consciousness still had not been summoned back to Blue Star. Had something gone wrong along the way? Could he really no longer return?

His thoughts were in turmoil. Knowing he could not continue cultivating, he went straight back inside to rest.

Early the next morning, he left the residence and went to a nearby restaurant. He ordered four dishes and a soup, ate his fill, then leisurely made his way to the entrance of an imposing building in the northwestern corner of Tongzhou City.

"Black Tiger Fist Hall."

Wang Yu glanced at the silver plaque above the entrance and walked inside.

"Junior Brother Wang, back again?"

A young man standing at the entrance with his arms folded, dressed in a short-sleeved training outfit, greeted Wang Yu warmly.

"Senior Brother Li, is it your turn on duty today?" Wang Yu replied with a smile.

"Yes. I can't compare with you, Junior Brother Wang. I can't afford much in tribute, so I can only do more work for the hall to stay here a little longer," the young man said helplessly.

"The hall requires thirty taels of silver in tribute every month. Even I find that a bit hard to stomach." At this, Wang Yu put on a pained expression.

"Haha, everyone knows how well-off you are, Junior Brother Wang. You've stayed at the hall for four or five months, and every time there's medicinal soup, you drink your fill." Senior Brother Li waved a hand, plainly disbelieving him.

"You're teasing me, Senior Brother Li."

Wang Yu yawned. Without saying anything more, he cupped his hands in farewell and walked inside.

The Black Tiger Fist Hall was one of the few martial arts schools in Tongzhou City that would teach genuine martial techniques to anyone willing to pay.

The Black Tiger Fist Technique taught here was a genuine combat art. The hall itself was also said to have considerable backing, having operated in Tongzhou City for several hundred years.

Another thing about Tongzhou City that puzzled Wang Yu was its abundance of martial arts schools-thirty or forty in all. Some were ordinary schools that taught little more than flowery fists and embroidered kicks, while others were established halls like the Black Tiger Fist Hall that taught genuine martial techniques.

The real reason Wang Yu had chosen this hall, however, was that he had always wanted to incorporate the cultivation methods of the Four Beast Diagram into actual combat. The Black Tiger Fist Technique imitated the movements of a fierce tiger, making it perfectly suited for cross-study with his four Tiger Pounce forms.

With his comprehension enhanced by Overclocked Synchronization, these past few months of study had indeed allowed him to incorporate the first three forms of the Tiger Pounce Diagram into the Black Tiger Fist Technique. He had even nearly finished working out how to incorporate the final form.

Today was the monthly occasion when the master of the Black Tiger Fist Hall personally explained the finer principles of the fist technique. It would also likely be Wang Yu's last visit, as he had no intention of continuing to squander his gleaming silver.

After all, everything over the past six months, from renting a house and buying books to studying under a master, had required money. He had already spent all the gold he had on hand, and had even exchanged two spirit stones for gold at a pawnshop that recognized their value.

As soon as Wang Yu entered the hall, he heard a succession of thuds from fists and feet striking.

Beyond the entrance lay a courtyard roughly one mu in size, its ground covered in sand. Nearly a hundred young people stood around rows of simple wooden posts, hammering away with fists wrapped in thick white cloth. Every one of them was sweating like rain, and there were even a few slender young women among them.

Wang Yu did not stop, walking straight through the crowd along a gravel path.

From time to time, people on either side paused their practice to call out, "Senior Brother Wang."

Most of these disciples were outer-courtyard students who had paid very little silver. For now, they could only practice basic stances for generating power. They had to pass a set assessment within two months before they could learn the genuine Black Tiger Fist Technique.

He was different. Having paid a large sum of silver at the outset, he had been treated as a formal disciple from his very first day and could go straight to the inner courtyard to attend the instructors' lessons in martial techniques.

Wang Yu returned each greeting with cupped hands, but did not slow his steps. He passed through the rear courtyard gate and a small garden, arriving in another, smaller courtyard.

This inner courtyard was filled with rows of stone training weights and weapon racks. At its center stood seven or eight wooden dummies, thicker than the posts outside, their surfaces densely marked with acupuncture point names circled in white lines. There were also over twenty men and women wearing training outfits much like Senior Brother Li's.

Some wielded sabers and spears, some held motionless horse stances, and others sparred bare-handed.

Most, however, were gathered around a burly man in his thirties, watching him perform a ferocious fist routine, his blows whipping up gusts of wind.

The man was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, his upper body bare and his movements nimble. As he twisted, turned, and shifted, he exuded a savage, murderous presence. The fingers of both hands curved like steel hooks, as though every clawing strike could tear open a chest and rip apart a belly, chilling the heart and making the courage quail.

Suddenly, the burly man drew back both hands, spun around, and swept out a leg.

With a crack, a wooden dummy behind him was kicked clean in two at the middle.

"Amazing! Just what you'd expect from Instructor Zhu. His Black Tiger Fist Technique has reached the point where the furnace fire burns pure blue. Even the hall master himself could hardly do better."

"If that final move, Evil Tiger Sweeps Its Tail, landed on a person, wouldn't they immediately cough up blood and die? Instructor Zhu truly deserves his reputation as the hall's strongest expert after the master."

The onlookers burst into applause and cheers.

Instructor Zhu looked at the broken wooden dummy, then flexed the leg he had kicked with, satisfaction showing on his face. He then began giving the disciples beside him hands-on instruction, explaining key points of the Black Tiger Fist Technique and things they needed to watch out for.

Wang Yu stood among the crowd, silently watching Instructor Zhu's demonstrations and listening to his explanations. Nothing unusual showed on his face, but crystalline glimmers occasionally flickered deep within his eyes. He had activated Overclocked Synchronization Mode.

Only after the burly man had talked himself dry, finished his explanations, and left the inner courtyard did a thoughtful expression appear on Wang Yu's face.

He exited Overclocking mode and, like the other disciples, went over to a wooden dummy in a corner of the courtyard. He took off his upper garment and began practicing his punches, slowly circling the dummy.

It was the same Black Tiger Fist Technique, and every move was clearly much the same as those Instructor Zhu had demonstrated earlier. Yet as Wang Yu's body rose and fell, every movement was unusually relaxed and slow. It looked particularly awkward, giving an indescribable sense that something was out of joint.

Some nearby formal disciples looked as though they could hardly bear to watch, while others wore expressions of contempt. Yet none came over to disturb him.

Wang Yu was utterly absorbed in the world of the fist technique he had comprehended. Ignoring everyone else's gazes, he continued practicing the Black Tiger Fist at his own pace, occasionally stopping to make slight adjustments to the angles and postures of his strikes. These only made his movements look increasingly awkward.

He practiced the Black Tiger Fist again and again.

An unknown amount of time passed. When Wang Yu finally settled into a horse stance and drew back his fists, his face was filled with delight. Just then, however, a loud voice rang out beside him.

"Good, good. There's something interesting about the way you perform this Black Tiger Fist. Your name is Wang Yu, if I remember correctly?"