He knew Brother Jing was practicing a profound martial art. Sometimes, when he got lost in watching, he could vaguely grasp a sliver of insight into cultivation that helped his own training.
When he saw Yang Jing assume a tortoise-like stance—shoulders pulled in, back and waist sinking as if he were curling into a ball—Yang An couldn't resist trying to copy him.
But the moment he bent over, his chest tightened, his breathing fell out of rhythm, and his shoulders ached intensely. How could he ever hope to be as steady and natural as Yang Jing?
Yang An gasped, quickly straightening up. He rubbed his aching shoulders, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at Yang Jing.
The posture was next to impossible, yet Brother Jing performed it with an effortless, innate-seeming skill. No wonder he had become a Huajin Powerhouse at such a young age.
Just then, Yang Jing's movements in the center of the courtyard suddenly accelerated!
