Time slipped silently through his fingers like water. For three long months since that fateful night, Trần Kiên seemed to have immersed himself in another world. While Falling Leaf Town slept, serenaded only by the chirping of insects and bathed in the silver light of the moon, the quiet of his dilapidated hut was broken by low grunts and the whistle of air split by fists and feet—the sounds of brutal training under the Iron Assault manual.
This manual contained no mystical arts for absorbing the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth, nor any profound incantations. It offered only a set of simple, almost cruel, physical stances that demanded extraordinary patience and endurance. It was a discipline designed to wring out every drop of sweat and push the human body to its absolute limits. Some postures required him to stand on one leg for hours, holding a massive boulder aloft. Sweat would pour from him like rain, drenching his patched clothes. His muscles would tremble violently, and his bones would creak as if on the verge of shattering. But Trần Kiên never gave up. He clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the emptiness before him, his mind tracing the faint, warm current of energy flowing through his body according to the diagrams on the stone elephant. He understood this was not just about building muscle; it was about forging his will, tempering his spirit until it was as hard as steel.
The change came quietly but unmistakably, like a sprout breaking through the soil after a long winter. His once-lean frame now bore the lean, sharp lines of honed muscle. Hidden beneath his coarse cloth shirt was a surprising resilience and latent power. His sun-darkened skin took on a healthy sheen, and every step he took was as steady and solid as a boulder against a storm.
This transformation was most evident in his daily work breaking ore. The heavy iron hammer, which once left his arms aching, now felt as light and nimble as a toy in his hands. He no longer relied on brute force alone. With his keenly trained eyes, he could spot the weakest point in an ore block with a single glance. A single, precise strike on a fault line—no more, no less—would shatter the massive rock into pieces. His efficiency multiplied, yet he used less than half the energy he once did. He worked faster and smarter, all while maintaining his innate calmness.
However, a tree that stands tall inevitably catches the wind. Trần Kiên's extraordinary progress did not go unnoticed. It soon caught the eye of Foreman Tôn, the notoriously greedy and cruel mine manager who thrived on exploiting the poor. More importantly, it drew the ire of his only son, Tôn Hạo—a spoiled, arrogant bully who saw Kiên's quiet competence as a personal insult, a thorn in his side.
One scorching summer afternoon, under a cloudless sky that baked the earth, Trần Kiên was resting in the shade when Tôn Hạo approached, flanked by two burly thugs.
"Well, well, the little orphan," Tôn Hạo sneered, his voice dripping with provocation. "Heard you've gotten stronger lately." He pointed to a massive pile of the hardest, densest ore—a load that would normally take five or six men to process. "You'll handle that pile. Alone. Finish it by sunset. If you don't, you won't see a single coin. Useless."
The surrounding miners lowered their heads, daring not to intervene for fear of retribution. They all knew Tôn Hạo was deliberately trying to bully Trần Kiên.
Kiên looked up, his calm eyes meeting Tôn Hạo's glare without a trace of fear or anger. He analyzed the situation. Tôn Hạo wanted to humiliate him. If he fought back now, even if he won, he'd be accused of assault, giving Foreman Tôn the perfect excuse to punish him severely. But if he submitted, they would only see him as weak and push him even further.
"Young Master Tôn," Kiên said as he slowly rose to his feet, his voice steady—neither servile nor defiant. "This is not a task for one man. But if the Young Master wishes me to try, I will."
The Uncut Jade of Falling Leaf Town
The stifling heat of the afternoon seemed to intensify under the weight of Tôn Hạo's contempt. He let out a scornful laugh, convinced that the skinny boy had finally buckled under his authority. He swaggered forward, his plump hand swinging up to deliver a "disciplinary" slap.
"It's good that you know your place. Your job is to—"
His words caught in his throat. The slap never landed. In mid-air, his fleshy wrist was caught in a grip as slender but unyielding as iron tongs.
"Aaargh! It hurts! You... you dare!" Tôn Hạo shrieked, his face turning pale from the sudden, excruciating pain. His wrist felt as if it were about to snap.
Trần Kiên's expression remained unnervingly calm. He wasn't using brute force. Instead, he applied a subtle wrist-turning technique he had learned from the stone elephant's diagrams—a refined skill that was devastatingly effective. It redirected Tôn Hạo's own momentum against him, leaving the arrogant bully utterly helpless.
Leaning in close, Kiên's voice was as cold and sharp as ice. "Young Master Tôn, others may fear your father's status. I, Trần Kiên, do not. I only want to work in peace. Do not push me too far."
He released his grip. Tôn Hạo, thrown off balance, stumbled backward and landed gracelessly in the dirt, his legs flailing in the air in a humiliating display.
Seeing their master disgraced, the two thugs roared and charged. One threw a punch the size of a child's head straight at Kiên's face. The other went low, aiming for a leg sweep to bring him down.
Faced with two opponents twice his size, Kiên didn't retreat. He pivoted gracefully, like a leaf in the wind, easily evading the first thug's clumsy punch. At the same time, the tip of his foot tapped lightly against the ankle of the second man.
"Thwack!"
A sharp crack echoed. The second thug howled in pain and collapsed, clutching his shattered ankle. In that same instant, the first had turned to strike again. Kiên gave him no chance. He closed the distance in a single step, his body flowing close. His palm rested gently on the thug's chest—it looked like a harmless pat.
"Thump!"
A dull, heavy sound followed. The big thug's eyes went wide. His entire body flew backward as if struck by a battering ram, landing in a heap on top of Tôn Hạo, who had just managed to struggle to his feet.
A dead silence fell over the mine. Every single person, from the dirt-caked miners to the foreman's cronies, stared in stunned disbelief. A skinny teenager, in the space of a few breaths, had effortlessly taken down three larger men. His movements weren't flashy, but they were brutally efficient, each strike aimed at a critical weakness.
Trần Kiên dusted off his hands, not even sparing them a second glance, as if he had just swatted away three annoying flies. He knew then that Falling Leaf Town, with its injustice and bullies like Tôn Hạo, was no longer a place where he could safely walk his path.
Just then, on the main road in the distance, a grand merchant caravan of over a dozen large carriages had halted. The leader, a stately middle-aged man in fine silks with the sharp eyes of a hawk, had witnessed the entire event. He stroked his neat beard, his eyes alight with surprise and intrigue.
"No fluctuation of spiritual power, yet his kinetic force can penetrate and send a man of over a hundred kilos flying. This... is this the legendary Path of Body Tempering? The nearly lost cultivation path of the Lạc Việt people...?" the man murmured to himself, his voice filled with awe.
He turned and signaled to a loyal guard standing beside him. "Find out about that boy. On this trip to Thanh Châu, it seems we may have stumbled upon a piece of priceless, uncut jade."