Time flowed slowly.
In the blink of an eye, more than another month had passed.
Another dry season arrived. The Xiahe River gradually dried up, leaving only a winding stream in the middle of its riverbed.
These days, Fang Yue practiced martial arts every day, and his fist technique grew more refined by the day.
After finishing his martial practice, he would take out the "Wutu True Art" and study it word by word, sentence by sentence, trying to cultivate it.
Unfortunately, the results remained minimal. He simply could not sense the so-called qi channels, primordial qi, or Spiritual Power.
Gradually, Fang Yue could only put this cultivation art away and focus on practicing the White Tiger Fist.
On this day.
"By my reckoning, I've been cultivating this White Tiger Fist for nearly two years now."
In the backyard, after Fang Yue finished his ninth round against the wooden training dummy, he suddenly felt the force throughout his body surge violently.
It was as if an earth dragon had turned over. His skin rippled up and down, while blood coursed through his veins.
This session was completely different from all his previous fist practice.
The strange changes in his body continued for the time it took three incense sticks to burn before gradually subsiding.
Fang Yue slowly came to a stop, calming the restless blood and qi within him before letting out a long breath of turbid air.
Then he touched the skin on his arm. It had not become as hard as Iron Stone; in fact, it felt somewhat softer than it had two months ago.
Fang Yue picked up a dagger from nearby and drew it across his arm.
The blade left no mark, producing a faint sound of metal scraping against metal.
The second stage of martial