After taking his leave, Chen Tie returned to the Fierce Tiger Martial Hall and found Zhang Long in the basement as well.
After talking for a while, he learned that Zhang Long had begun training in the basement half a month before him and was now only a hair's breadth from greater mastery in his fist art.
Chen Tie fell silent. This was the benefit of being a master's final disciple. He himself had only come here after reaching greater mastery in his fist art.
Still, he felt no resentment. In terms of talent, Zhang Long did indeed surpass him.
Now both of them stood outside the iron cage, each observing the giant tiger as they trained.
"Junior Brother Zhang, have you ever gone inside to face the giant tiger?" Chen Tie asked curiously.
"No. Master said I needed to reach greater mastery in the fist art before I could enter."
The two chatted on and off.
That evening, they finished their day's training and reached the platform. Chen Tie faintly heard roars coming from the right, clearly not from the giant tiger.
"Junior Brother Zhang, what's that sound over there?"
Zhang Long paused and turned to glance at Chen Tie before saying softly, "That's a secret of the martial hall-the source of the secret medicine."
Chen Tie's curiosity was instantly stirred, and he was just about to ask more.
But Zhang Long changed the subject. "Senior Brother Chen, you and I should exchange pointers more often when we have time. We ought to grow closer."
"Those fellow disciples outside will never make it into the grand hall. There's no need to pay them too much attention. You should understand what I mean."
At this, Chen Tie said evenly, "On the path of the Martial Dao, you mustn't look down on others."
Zhang Long's implication was that the other disciples lacked strength and potential and belonged to a different world from them. He sorted people by their worth.
Zhang Long smiled and cupped his hands in farewell. "I'm only speaking my mind. I'll head back first. Next time we're free, let's spar again."
Chen Tie went to the White Crane Martial Arts Hall to pick up his younger sister. On their way home, he saw a man and woman strolling along the street across the river. They were Zhang Long and Mo Fang, their manner intimate.
Master Mo's final disciple and daughter-it seemed quite reasonable for them to become a couple.
For the next half month, Chen Tie spent most of his time at the martial hall training in the basement. With the support of Qi and Blood Pills, choice meat, secret medicine, and treasure fish, his Fierce Tiger Fist and Fierce Tiger Stance Art progressed rapidly, each gaining eight points a day, while his other arts gained four.
[Fierce Tiger Fist Greater Mastery (163/300)] [Fierce Tiger Stance Art Greater Mastery (183/300)] [Resounding Viscera Blood Scripture Third Layer (86/100)] [Supple Bone Palm Lesser Mastery (145/200)] [White Crane Stance Art Initiation (96/100)]
Chen Tie checked his proficiency, a trace of excitement in his eyes.
During this time, Zhang Long also reached greater mastery in the Fierce Tiger Fist. Mo Hong was delighted and came to the basement to instruct them personally.
Mo Hong stood outside the iron cage with his hands behind his back, gazing calmly inside.
"Within the martial hall, only you two have reached greater mastery in the fist art. Your moves are well practiced; all you lack is Martial Dao True Intent."
"Ordinary fist practice and observing beasts are too slow. If you wish to break through to perfection, the quickest way is to face a real tiger and train against it at close quarters."
Mo Hong continued in a low voice, "You're entering the cage not to fight the giant tiger, but to maneuver around it, dodge, confront it, counter its moves, and observe every gathering of force, every lowering of its body, every pounce and sweep. Comprehend the origins of the Fierce Tiger Fist from a true savage beast."
"Zhang Long, you first!"
Zhang Long's eyes suddenly lit up. Far from afraid, his fighting spirit boiled. "Yes, Master!"
Mo Hong gave a slight nod.
With a clang, the heavy iron cage gate was slowly pulled open, the dull scrape of metal grating on the ears. Inside, the striped giant tiger narrowed its amber eyes, and a fierce, chilling menace erupted.
The chain around its neck pulled taut. Its body abruptly arched, the muscles along its back bulging in layers. A low roar rolled through its chest, making the iron cage hum faintly.
Zhang Long stepped into the iron cage, and the gate was locked behind him.
A thick, rank smell filled the cage, and the savage giant tiger was mere feet away.
Zhang Long tensed and immediately assumed the Fierce Tiger Fist stance, sinking his waist and hips. His eyes remained fixed on the giant tiger's movements, not daring to relax in the slightest.
The giant tiger recognized him as the person who usually poked it with a stick, and the savage gleam in its eyes surged. Restrained by its chain, it could not pounce with its full strength, but it still abruptly crouched and lowered its shoulders, slamming its forepaws against the ground and scattering broken stones. Then it twisted at the waist, and its tail swept sideways with a powerful blast of wind!
The sweep carried immense force, the wind cracking explosively. This was the most primitive form of Fierce Tiger Tail Swing from the Fierce Tiger Fist!
Zhang Long did not meet it head-on and immediately dodged sideways. When its sweep missed, the giant tiger instantly lowered itself and lunged forward, shoulders low and claws grasping at the air-the hunting posture of a fierce tiger gathering force for a forward pounce.
A pounce, a sweep, a sinking motion, an explosive burst.
Every movement of the giant tiger followed no formal move or stance, yet each contained the primal truths of the Fierce Tiger Fist.
Zhang Long kept his nerves taut throughout, constantly dodging, confronting, probing, and punching as he tried to capture a Martial Dao conception from the giant tiger's movements and stillness. Cold sweat kept beading on his forehead, and the Qi and blood throughout his body circulated rapidly.
Whenever an attack truly could not be avoided, he retreated to the edge of the iron cage, caught his breath for a moment, then approached the giant tiger again.
Outside the cage, Mo Hong silently observed his responses and comprehension.
Chen Tie watched without blinking, taking in every flex and extension of the giant tiger's sinews and bones, every exertion and gathering of force, every shift between movement and stillness, and every change between hardness and softness.
Three quarters of an hour later, Mo Hong opened the iron cage.
Drenched in sweat, Zhang Long walked out.
"Chen Tie, you're up!"
"Remember, you're not fighting the fierce tiger to the death. You're observing its momentum and comprehending its intent," Mo Hong reminded him in a deep voice. "The chain limits its attack range, but it can still wound or kill."
Chen Tie stepped into the iron cage, and the rank smell struck him full in the face, far stronger than it had been outside. No wonder Zhang Long had been in such a sorry state.
After several successive pounces had yielded nothing, the already tense giant tiger saw a new intruder. Its amber, slitted pupils locked onto Chen Tie, and a dull growl issued from its throat.
The thick iron chain around its neck clattered, dragging with a piercing scrape across the claw-scored ground as it moved its limbs.
This Fierce Tiger Fist really isn't something ordinary people should learn. If I could start over, I'd rather watch white cranes dance.
Chen Tie had no time to think further. The giant tiger before him spread its limbs and lowered its body slightly. Beneath its fur, its muscles bulged one by one as it gathered force.
Chen Tie reined in his restless Qi and blood and quieted his mind. Rather than immediately adopting the fierce tiger's attacking stance, he simply stood still, his gaze resting on the giant tiger.
Seeing that he neither charged nor dodged, the giant tiger paused slightly. Then it twisted at the waist, its thick tail sweeping toward him with a raging wind-the very same tail strike it had used against Zhang Long.
Chen Tie shifted his feet lightly and turned sideways to evade rather than taking it head-on. His gaze stayed firmly fixed on the giant tiger, watching how its waist and hips sank before it exerted force, how its sinews and bones stretched, and how power traveled from its back to the tip of its tail.
When its strike missed, the giant tiger scraped its forepaws heavily against the ground, sending broken stones flying. It lowered its head and abruptly thrust its body forward.
Restrained by the iron chain, it could not complete a full-strength pounce, but the way its forepaws reached out was utterly wild-the primal form of Fierce Tiger Leaping Body from the tiger fist art.
Chen Tie was in no hurry to punch. He maneuvered and dodged while carefully observing the fierce tiger's transitions between movement and stillness.
When the fierce tiger crouched motionless, it was not relaxed; its power was drawn inward. The instant it attacked, the Qi and blood throughout its body erupted. Even amid its ferocity, there was suppleness in the flexing and extending of its sinews and bones, rather than nothing but stiff, brute force.
This was precisely what he lacked-when practicing his fist art, he stayed tense throughout every exertion, hard without softness.
The giant tiger reached with its claws, lowered its shoulders, and swung its tail several times in succession, gathering force and erupting again and again.
In the gaps between dodges, Chen Tie tried to imitate the fierce tiger's skeletal alignment as it lowered its body. He slowly raised his hand and threw a Fierce Tiger Fist punch.
Though this punch no longer carried the stiff brute force of his usual practice, he tried to be like the fierce tiger: loose while gathering force, then releasing his strength at the instant of striking. At the same time, he steadied his mind with the calm he had learned from observing white cranes.
As the wind of his punch stirred, Mo Hong's gaze flickered slightly outside the cage, and he nodded gently.