Chengping Square, front courtyard.
Yang Jing repeatedly refined his use of Anjin with the Mountain-Shattering Fist. The air seemed to tremble wherever his fists passed, and the contained power kept the other disciples from drawing near.
Qi Yun, practicing her forms nearby, glanced at Yang Jing out of the corner of her eye. She saw his focused expression drawing furtive looks from many disciples and couldn't help but sneer inwardly. 'He just got ridiculously lucky breaking through to the Anjin realm. Now he has the gall to stand in the middle of the training grounds. Truly a case of a small man hitting it big.'
The sun climbed high into the morning sky.
The inner courtyard's Moon Gate creaked open.
Sun Yong, dressed in a plain short tunic, walked out at a measured pace. Sun Ningxiang followed close behind, stopping by the gate as her gentle gaze swept across the front courtyard.
Sun Yong's steps appeared casual, yet they followed a distinct pattern.
