He dished out a large bowl and ate everything, meat and broth. A warmth slid down his throat and into his stomach, quickly transforming into a torrent of heat more intense than what he'd felt from bear meat. It coursed through his limbs, making his muscles and bones feel as if they were soaking in warm water, swelling with comfort.
After eating the tiger meat, Yang Jing immediately locked his door, left his courtyard, and headed straight for the Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square.
Because buying the tiger meat had delayed him, some of the Martial Arts Hall disciples had already arrived by the time Yang Jing got there.
"Senior Brother Yang."
"Senior Brother Yang is here."
Seeing Yang Jing, a few young disciples from the Martial Arts Hall quickly greeted him.
Regardless of Yang Jing's poor aptitude, he was now a Mingjin master, which already put him above the vast majority of the disciples.
Aside from the older disciples and those who were arrogant due to their superior aptitude or family background, the other disciples were quite respectful toward Yang Jing.
Yang Jing nodded slightly, walked over to the courtyard wall, and took off his outer tunic, revealing firm arms. He then went straight for the stone locks.
The ninety-jin stone lock felt as light as a feather in his hands. Its rise and fall stirred the air. After warming up for less than a quarter of an hour, a fine sheen of sweat already covered his body. The torrent of heat generated by the tiger meat surged within him, feeling as if it might burst through his skin at any moment.
He walked to the center of the training grounds and took a firm stance. He lowered his waist, rooted his feet, and slowly began the opening forms of the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
As he threw the first punch, his Mingjin intertwined with the heat in his body. The force of the fist actually produced a low HUM, appearing much deeper and more powerful than before.
He could clearly feel the tiger meat's energy seeping into his muscles with his qi and blood. With every punch, an extra surge of power echoed through his meridians, as if a fierce tiger were roaring inside him.
"Stone-Splitting Form!"
Yang Jing's fist cut through the air, and the force it generated was strong enough to stir up dust a zhang away.
When he executed the Mountain-Shattering Form, the bluestone slab beneath his feet trembled slightly, emitting a dull thrum.
His Mingjin, which usually required conscious effort to guide, now flowed as easily as a limb, moving naturally with his punches. The clunkiness between his moves vanished, replaced by a fluid grace amidst the ferocity.
Sweat dripped from his chin, hitting the ground and leaving dark spots, but it did nothing to slow his momentum.
Yang Jing punched faster and faster, his fists blurring into a web of afterimages. The heat in his body fully merged with his Mingjin. Every punch seemed to carry the force of a thousand jin, yet he could retract it at will.
When striking the wooden posts, his power was unparalleled, making them BUZZ and tremble.
But when he pulled back, his movements were as light as a goose feather, his fingertips leaving only the faintest trace on his lapel.
Some of the surrounding disciples were resting, discussing the massive fire in West City the previous night that had killed Xu Tai, the Gang Leader of the Great Fortune Gang. Others looked at Yang Jing as he trained, their faces showing either admiration or pity.
Whether they were Anjin masters, Mingjin masters, or ordinary disciples who hadn't yet achieved any Jin, very few could match Yang Jing's dedication and diligence in martial arts. His perseverance and willpower earned him the admiration of some.
However, everyone also knew that Yang Jing's aptitude was terrible. Breaking through to Mingjin was already a massive stroke of luck. The thought of reaching Anjin was practically hopeless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't change his inherent lack of aptitude and talent.
That's just how martial arts worked. If you had talent, you could walk this path. If you didn't, you couldn't. Good talent meant you could go far. Bad talent meant any random bottleneck could stop you dead in your tracks, making it hard to progress in the long run.
Yang Jing turned a deaf ear to the discussions of the other disciples, his mind completely immersed in his training.
He could clearly perceive that the nourishment from the tiger meat wasn't just in his qi and blood; it was also tempering his muscles and bones, making his control over Mingjin increasingly seamless.
After finishing a full set of the fist form, he stood still to regulate his breathing. The heat continued to flow slowly through his body, nourishing every inch of his muscles. He felt filled with an inexhaustible supply of energy.
The July sun filtered through the treetops, casting dappled light on him. His sweat refracted the light into tiny specks.
Yang Jing clenched his fists. The calluses on his palms seemed to have grown a little thicker.
'Now that I don't have to worry about silver coins, I can afford plenty of ferocious beast meat for nourishment. I can reach the Peak of Mingjin even faster. Once I'm there, with the panel's help, I'll be able to break through to Anjin naturally, without any bottlenecks.'
The next moment, a thought crossed Yang Jing's mind.
A panel materialized before his eyes, clearly displaying his progress with the Mountain-Shattering Fist—
[Mountain-Shattering Fist: Lesser Mastery (371/500)]
Seeing his progress with the Mountain-Shattering Fist, Yang Jing couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.
Lately, although he had been eating bear meat, it was only ten jin per month, and his main source of nourishment was still horse meat. After eating a single jin of tiger meat this morning, he felt that training the Mountain-Shattering Fist was even more nourishing than after eating bear meat, and his progress was a notch faster.
After a short rest, Yang Jing resumed his training, determined to fully absorb and utilize the remaining energy from the tiger meat in his body.
...
When Liu Maolin walked into the front courtyard of the Martial Arts Hall, his gaze immediately fell upon Yang Jing.
At that moment, Yang Jing was bare-chested, beads of sweat glistening on his bronze skin. Though the force from his just-completed punch still lingered in the air, his breathing was already steady.
Liu Maolin nodded slightly. 'Yang Jing's control over his power seems to have improved again.'
He slowly walked over, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes held a hint of inquiry as he looked at Yang Jing, but also a flicker of understanding.
"Junior Brother, you've improved again," Liu Maolin said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to Yang Jing's ears.
Yang Jing picked up a cloth to wipe his sweat and smiled. "Senior Brother, you're here."
Liu Maolin nodded slightly without speaking. He glanced around and saw that the other disciples were busy with their own training, then lowered his voice and asked, "Have you heard about Xu Tai?"
"Yeah, I heard people talking about it on my way here. Seems there was a fire," Yang Jing replied, his tone flat, as if discussing something trivial.
Liu Maolin stared into his eyes. They were clear, yet they hid something he couldn't quite see through.
"A fire?" Liu Maolin scoffed. "Xu Tai was a Peak of Mingjin master. Just a few days ago, he managed to fight his way out of an encirclement by two Mingjin masters from the Yiqi Gang. You think he'd be killed by a simple fire?"
Yang Jing was silent for a moment before looking up. "Maybe he was too badly injured to escape."
"Is that so?" Liu Maolin's gaze grew heavier. "I recall you left rather early yesterday."
Yang Jing's movements faltered for a second, then he shook his head. "I had some things to take care of at home. Why the sudden question, Senior Brother?"
Seeing Yang Jing's calm demeanor, Liu Maolin suddenly smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's nothing. I just think that in this world, it's actually a good thing when certain people die."
He didn't press any further. He turned, walked to the courtyard wall, and took off his shirt. "With the things Xu Tai has done, he had it coming for a long time. Wouldn't you agree, Junior Brother?"
Yang Jing watched his back, a flicker of emotion stirring in his heart. Then he smiled too. "You're right, Senior Brother."
Yang Jing knew his Fourth Senior Brother suspected him of killing Xu Tai.
But some things were better left unsaid. It was enough that they both understood.
In a world where the strong prey on the weak, it was enough just to hold on to one's principles.
Liu Maolin put down his shirt and turned to Yang Jing. The complexity and inquiry were gone from his eyes, replaced by his usual warmth. "Come, Junior Brother. Spar a few rounds with me. Let's see how much you've improved these past few days."
"Alright!" Yang Jing agreed with a smile.
...
As dusk crept over the curved eaves of the Martial Arts Hall, Yang Jing had just finished his final punch, the heat from his fist not yet dissipated.
By now, the front courtyard of the Martial Arts Hall was nearly empty. Liu Maolin had left early, as he had taken over his family's business and spent very little time at the hall these days. Only a few helpers were left, tidying up the equipment. The sound of clattering wooden implements was especially clear in the twilight.
He wiped the sweat from his body and was about to put on his outer tunic when a figure emerged from the inner courtyard.
Lin Yue was dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, a jade belt tied at his waist, which made his figure appear even more tall and straight.
He shot a glance at Yang Jing, his gaze skimming past him as if he were an insignificant stone, not lingering for a moment. He then turned away, the corners of his mouth tinged with a faint arrogance, as if looking for even a second longer would be beneath him.
Yang Jing paid him no mind at all. He draped the cloth over his shoulder, picked up his old cloth bag, and walked straight toward the gate.
'Geniuses have their own path, and I have mine. There's no need for them to ever cross.'