After a day of labor, the hardship went without saying. Zhang Xiaohua had grown used to it and did not feel tired in the least. However, ceaselessly reviewing the moves of the Arhat Fist in his mind from dawn to dusk was truly a draining task.
Unfortunately, when it came time to practice martial arts again that evening, even the disciple teaching him that morning was left speechless. Zhang Xiaohua had forgotten everything again except six moves—he remembered only the first six!
That disciple went to He Tianshu with deep resentment to report the matter. He simply could not teach this student! No matter how stupid someone else was, after adding what He Tianshu had taught, they should have remembered it all by now. Why could Zhang Xiaohua never remember it, no matter what? He could not possibly stop cultivating just to keep teaching Zhang Xiaohua the Arhat Fist, could he?
He Tianshu thought for a moment, gritted his teeth, and said, "Teach him for one more night tonight. Tomorrow, we'll switch to someone else. I refuse to believe that with four of us, we still can't teach him the Arhat Fist!"
That night's results were abundant. After the disciple taught him hand in hand seven or eight times, Zhang Xiaohua actually performed all sixteen forms of the Arhat Fist before He Tianshu. The Misty Sect members watching nearby all had the same thought: "Hard work never betrays the determined. Even an iron rod can be ground into a needle. The ancients did not deceive us!"
When everyone happily returned to their rooms to sleep, filled with the satisfaction of being teachers, Zhang Xiaohua remained where he was, reviewing the entire Arhat Fist over and over. Unfortunately, no one knew from which repetition onward, but he began forgetting the moves