Yang Jing quickly recalled the events of that night.
He had killed Scarface Li in a dark alley, leaving no trace behind other than the body.
When he burned down Xu Taiâs house, he had been meticulous, even hiding the murder weapon securely. There shouldnât be any loose ends.
With these thoughts, Yang Jingâs heart settled slightly, but his vigilance sharpened.
He didnât linger. Using the cover of the crowd, he quickened his pace through Guangâan Square and soon arrived at his small courtyard in Tongyi Square.
He pushed open the door, went to the kitchen to heat up the leftover tiger meat from the morning, and stuffed a large piece into his mouth.
The warm, savory juices slid down his throat, and the familiar warmth dispelled some of his unease.
Seeing that the sky was already growing dim, Yang Jing decided against heading to the Martial Arts Hall. Instead, he took off his shirt and stood bare-chested in the courtyard.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the pagoda tree leaves, casting dappled shadows on his bronze back.
He sank into a horse stance, steadily assuming the opening stance of the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
Without the clamor of the Martial Arts Hall, the only sounds were the gurgling of a nearby stream and the whoosh of his fists cutting through the air.
The energy from the tiger meat circulated within him. As his fists rose and fell, the muscles on his shoulders and back bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his firm physique, splattering onto the ground and leaving small, dark patches.
The edge of his "Mountain-Splitting Style" fist swept through the air, and the resulting gust of wind rustled the morning glories in the corner of the yard.
When his "Mountain-Shattering Style" fist descended, the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly.
He grew more and more focused as he trained. In these chaotic times, the only true source of confidence was improving his own strength.
...
The days slipped by in a flurry of fists and sweat. In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.
Yang Jingâs control over the Mingjin of his Mountain-Shattering Fist grew increasingly fluid. The previous stiffness in his movements was long gone, replaced by a fierce power tempered with stability. With every punch, he could retract or release his force at will.
ăThat afternoon, at Sunâs Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square.ă
Yang Jing and Liu Maolin stood facing each other.
"Junior Brother, your fist techniques have become much more structured lately."
Liu Maolin flexed his wrists, the leather of his boxing gloves gleaming in the sun. "Come on, letâs exchange a few moves."
Yang Jing smiled and nodded, sinking into his opening stance.
Liu Maolin struck first. His punch was steadyâthe "Mountain-Pushing Style" of the Mountain-Shattering Fist. It seemed slow but carried a heavy, powerful force.
Yang Jing didnât dodge. He parried the attack with his left arm and followed up with his right fist, executing the "Mountain-Splitting Style." The angle was tricky, aimed straight for Liu Maolinâs ribs.
"Nice!" Liu Maolin exclaimed. He sidestepped, twisted his wrist, and actually used the back of his fist to strike the front of Yang Jingâs.
The two fists met with a dull THUD. Yang Jing felt a clever force travel up his arm, making his wrist go slightly numb and involuntarily deflecting his punch by half an inch.
"Mingjin isnât just about being hard; you also have to know how to disperse force," Liu Maolin advised as they sparred. "If your opponentâs strike is too powerful, itâs better to redirect it than to meet it head-on. Itâs like water flowing around a hard rockâgo around it, then strike back."
Something clicked in Yang Jingâs mind. He instantly recalled the two words his master, Sun Yong, had once mentioned: âgathering momentumâ.
He adjusted his breathing and stopped clashing head-on. Retracting and releasing his fists, he used the force of Liu Maolinâs punches to adjust his own position, gradually getting the hang of âusing softness to overcome hardnessâ.
The two went back and forth, their fists a blur of motion. Several newly-recruited disciples nearby stopped their own training to watch, completely engrossed.
To disciples who had not yet reached the Mingjin realm, both Liu Maolin and Yang Jing were masters far beyond their level. Being able to personally witness these two Mountain-Shattering Fist experts spar was of great benefit to their own training.
After a clash of their "Mountain-Shattering Style" techniques, both men retreated half a step simultaneously.
Liu Maolin looked at Yang Jing with a smile in his eyes. "Youâre progressing quickly. With a bit more polish, reaching the Peak of Mingjin will be just around the corner."
Yang Jing rubbed his heated fist, a sense of clarity washing over him.
During their spar, Liu Maolinâs technique of âdispersing forceâ had deepened his understanding of Mingjin by another level.
âSo, fierce power isnât just about pushing forward. The key is finding the balance between releasing and retractingâthatâs the essence of Mingjin.â
Yang Jing cupped his fist. "Thank you, Senior Brother."
Liu Maolin clapped him on the shoulder. "On the path of the Martial Dao, sparring with others is better than training alone in silence. Once you enter the Mingjin realm, you should engage in more practical combat and sparring. It will deepen your understanding of your techniques and allow you to progress faster."
"Yes, I understand, Senior Brother," Yang Jing said with a nod.
Liu Maolin hummed in acknowledgment and continued, "Most importantly, moments of inspiration and enlightenment can sometimes burst forth during real combat, which will help you break through bottlenecks. With your innate talent, breaking through the next bottleneck into the Anjin realm will be difficult, but not without hope. In a few days, there will be an opportunity..."
Amid the clamor of the front courtyard, a graceful figure emerged from the Moon Gate of the inner courtyard.
Sun Ningxiang, dressed in a neat, lake-blue martial arts outfit with a matching belt, walked briskly up to Liu Maolin. Her voice was clear and bright as she said, "Fourth Senior Brother, my father is looking for you. Heâs waiting in the inner courtyard."
Upon hearing this, Liu Maolin lowered his fists, nodded to Yang Jing, and then turned to follow Sun Ningxiang into the inner courtyard.
Sun Ningxiang gave Yang Jing a faint, gentle smile as she spoke with Liu Maolin, and the two of them entered the inner courtyard.
Yang Jing was momentarily stunned, his heart fluttering. He immediately took a deep breath, suppressed the stirring within him, and refocused on his training.
With a thought, a panel instantly appeared before his eyes, clearly displaying his current progress in two martial artsâ
[Mountain-Shattering Fist: Minor Accomplishment (455/500)]
[Raging Wave Kicks: Initiate (131/200)]
His progress in both martial arts was good. Mountain-Shattering Fist was getting closer and closer to the Peak of Mingjin, and his progress with the Raging Wave Kicks was astonishingly fast. In just half a month, he had already completed most of the Initiate stage.
Yang Jingâs training still focused primarily on the Mountain-Shattering Fist. He only practiced the Raging Wave Kicks when he was tired from his fist training or at night in his own small courtyard. Even so, his progress was still extremely fast.