Jiang Fa's days that followed were just as they had been several months before: he rose at the hour of the Rabbit and rested at the hour of the Rat.
During the day, he practiced the Mountain-Breaking Stance diligently, working on his martial techniques in between.
He devoted his evenings entirely to the Seven-Colored Glazed Glass Art.
Along the way, Jiang Fa also found time to visit the Black Tiger Gang's branch hall and repay the twenty taels of silver he had borrowed, with interest. The stone weighing on his heart finally fell away.
After entering the inner courtyard, most disciples held posts elsewhere; finding even half a day to return to the martial hall was already good.
Jiang Fa, who stayed at the martial hall practicing his fists every day, naturally became an oddity in the eyes of the others.
The nickname "Blockhead" arose accordingly.
The sun blazed over the training ground.
Sun Yi withdrew from his fighting stance. A sheen of fine sweat covered his forehead, but he was not out of breath.
The Mountain-Breaking Fist routine he had just performed had produced fist winds even fiercer than half a month earlier.
"Senior Brother Sun's Mountain-Breaking Fist must be close to major accomplishment, right?"
Several disciples watching from the sidelines were dumbstruck.
Xie Tan leaned against the weapons rack at the edge of the grounds, a grass stem between his lips. His gaze passed over the scattered figures and settled beneath the shade of a tree in a corner of the training ground.
Jiang Fa was practicing his stance there.
He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of gray training trousers. Sweat slicked his naked upper body, giving it a bronze sheen in the sunlight.
"Senior Brother Sun, look at that fellow."
Xie Tan spat the grass stem onto the ground and jutted his chin toward Jiang Fa, undisguised mockery in his voice.
"He plants himself there before the hour of the Rabbit every day and only leaves after dark. How long has it been since our inner courtyard had someone like that?"
At those words, Sun Yi glanced over Jiang Fa, then withdrew his gaze, his face expressionless.
"What use is practicing more?"
He picked up the tea bowl on the stone stool and took a sip. "With inferior aptitude, even if he trains until his bones break, he'll never touch the threshold of An Jin. Which of us hasn't been through that?"
Xie Tan grinned, his face mocking. "You're right, Senior Brother Sun. On the martial path, seven parts depend on talent, two on resources, and one on hard work. Without talent, he could train himself to death and still be destined for nothing beyond peak Ming Jin."
He paused, then added, "But you can't blame him. No money, no influence, no aptitude-what else can he do except practice a few more times? The clumsy bird takes flight first, after all."
Several inner courtyard disciples resting nearby burst out laughing.
"Don't speak of Junior Brother Jiang like that."
Song Wan had walked over at some point.
Today, she wore a rose-red martial outfit, with a palm-wide pink silk sash around her waist that accentuated her figure all the more.
Her voice was soft, sounding as though she were speaking up for Jiang Fa. "Junior Brother Jiang may have somewhat poor aptitude and come from a humble family, but at least he's willing to work hard. That perseverance deserves praise."
She paused, then smiled. "Do you think everyone in this world is as exceptional as Junior Brother Qin?"
Xie Tan laughed heartily and picked up where she left off. "Junior Sister Zhao is right. Some people are only destined to run alongside the contenders. In another couple of years, when he's older and his progress can't keep up, he'll understand. Then no one will have to chase him away; he'll pack his bedding and leave on his own."
Sun Yi set down his tea bowl without another word and turned to continue practicing his fists.
Within this inner courtyard, Sun Yi belonged to the most senior group of disciples. With his middle An Jin cultivation and Mountain-Breaking Fist on the verge of major accomplishment, he regarded no one highly except Wang Shi, Zhang Qi, and a handful of others.
A newcomer like Jiang Fa, with inferior aptitude and only a few months in the inner courtyard, did not even qualify for a proper look from him.
Every word they said reached Jiang Fa's ears.
He stood beneath the shade of the tree.
His stance never shifted in the slightest, nor did his expression change.
Time hurried by. Several more months passed, and as the year's end approached, Qingshan County received its first snowfall of the winter.
Jiang Fa was bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of gray training trousers.
He held a wooden saber in both hands, its tip pointing diagonally toward the ground. His breathing was steady, his eyes fixed on Lin Feng three paces away.
Lin Feng had changed into a navy-blue martial outfit today, its cuffs bound tight. He, too, held a wooden saber made for use on the training ground.
He looked at Jiang Fa with a smile, but there was not the slightest trace of disdain in his eyes.
Over these past few months,
he had sparred with Jiang Fa dozens of times and knew full well that this junior brother could not be underestimated.
It had been fine at first, but as their sparring sessions increased, he discovered to his astonishment that Jiang Fa improved every single time.
It was not progress made in a single leap, but a gradual accumulation, drop by drop, like water falling into the sea.
The same moves, in his hands, showed obvious changes almost every time.
They became better, stronger, more complete.
That was precisely what made it so inconceivable to him,
because no one in the world could keep improving! Keep improving steadily!
Yet Jiang Fa seemed to be that exception, shattering Lin Feng's understanding outright.
On the training ground, Lin Feng held his wooden saber across his body.
"Come on."
He then assumed the opening stance of the Cloak Saber Technique.
"Junior Brother Jiang, I've gained some new insights lately. Today, I'll try them out on you and see how they work!"
Jiang Fa did not answer.
His right foot stamped hard against the ground, and he shot toward Lin Feng like an arrow loosed from its bow.
His footwork was light and nimble, tracing strange arcs across the slippery bluestone paving, so fast that the placement of his feet was almost impossible to see.
Wind-Chasing Steps!
A flicker of surprise crossed Lin Feng's eyes.
Junior Brother Jiang's movement technique had actually become even faster since their last sparring session!
The thought flashed through his mind and vanished.
Lin Feng's own practical combat experience was considerable.
Over his years of roughing it on Black Wind Ridge, he had naturally encountered opponents with even faster movement techniques.
He held his ground, merely turning slightly sideways as his wooden saber suddenly swept out horizontally.
The blade sliced through the air, precisely sealing off every possible route Jiang Fa could take to close in.
Jiang Fa's pupils contracted slightly.
The angle of this slash was too tricky. Half a month ago, he would probably have had no choice but to furl his banners and still his drums, withdrawing his saber and retreating.
But his Wind-Chasing Steps had now reached minor achievement, and the speed with which he could change direction was no longer what it had been.
He suddenly dropped low in the midst of his swift charge, sliding sideways almost flush against the ground. He narrowly avoided that fierce blade light while slashing diagonally backhanded with his wooden saber, aiming straight for Lin Feng's waist.
"Excellent!"
Lin Feng could not help shouting his praise.
That change of move had been swift and ruthless. The Cloak Saber Technique placed the greatest emphasis on catching an opponent off guard and using speed against slowness. Jiang Fa's slash already possessed some of its essence, far beyond the awkwardness of entry level.
But Lin Feng was, after all, a seasoned middle An Jin practitioner, and his reaction was astonishingly fast.
He turned his wrist, his wooden saber tracing an arc through the air. The back of its blade firmly caught Jiang Fa's wooden saber, and the two weapons collided with a dull thud.
"Again!"
They traded blows, exchanging seven or eight saber strikes in the blink of an eye.
The longer Lin Feng fought, the more alarmed he became.
Over these past few months, he had watched Jiang Fa's Cloak Saber Technique progress from entry level to proficiency, and then to his current ability to unleash and withdraw it at will. The speed of his improvement was terrifying.
Even throughout the entire inner courtyard of the Zhao Clan Martial Hall, no second person could be found who improved at such a pace.
After twenty moves, Lin Feng deliberately slowed his hand by half a beat, luring Jiang Fa into seizing the attack.
Sure enough, Jiang Fa grasped the opening, his wooden saber turning into a streak of cold light as it cleaved straight down.
This was the moment Lin Feng had been waiting for. He shifted sideways, his left palm secretly carrying An Jin as it struck toward the back of Jiang Fa's blade.
The wooden saber in his right hand seized the opportunity to thrust straight at Jiang Fa's chest. This move was his trump card, one that had never failed him when sparring with the other junior brothers of the inner courtyard.
Yet just as his left palm was about to strike the back of the blade, Jiang Fa's saber suddenly changed course.
The wooden saber forcibly changed direction in midair, circling around his left palm at an inconceivable angle, its movement flowing and turning like water.
Its tip touched his back lightly, and Jiang Fa used the force to spring into the air. He flipped over and landed steadily more than two zhang away.
Cloak Saber Technique: Turning Wind Brushes the Willows.
This was one of the few defensive moves in the Cloak Saber Technique, and also the hardest to practice.
It did not rely on brute force in a head-on clash, but entirely on power generated by the wrist. The subtle application of force was extremely difficult to master; the slightest carelessness would let the opponent turn that force back against the user, causing him to lose his balance instead.
Lin Feng's pupils suddenly contracted as he felt that tingling spot on his back.
The gentle smile on his face had long since vanished.
His eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief.
Had he not been an entire realm above Jiang Fa, that move alone would have defeated him.
Such was the martial path. When two people were in the same realm, greater mastery of martial techniques often made it easier to seize a slight initiative.
"Minor achievement." He stared at Jiang Fa, his voice trembling slightly. "Your Cloak Saber Technique has broken through to minor achievement?"