The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the town was still hushed.
While most of Small Lake Town remained asleep, Chen Zong's eyes snapped open. With a fluid twist, as nimble as an eel, he slipped from beneath the covers, landing soundlessly on the floor. He quickly dressed, washed up, and ate a few bites of flatbread before strapping heavy iron plates to his arms, legs, waist, and back. Then, he quietly opened and closed the door.
Outside, the dim morning light filtered through the stillness. Chen Zong took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, exhaling slowly as a cool sensation lingered in his chest, invigorating his spirit. After stretching his limbs, he began to run.
The thirty pounds of iron plates weighed heavily on him. Even after daily practice, he was panting heavily after only a few hundred meters, but he gritted his teeth and pushed onward.
No pain, no gain.
Reaching the edge of Small Lake, he paused briefly to rest before resuming his run along the shore.
A full circuit of the lake measured over a mile, taking nearly fifteen minutes to complete while carrying the weight. After three laps, Chen Zong was drenched in sweat, looking as if he had just been hauled from the water. His skin flushed crimson, his body burned with heat, his heart pounded like a war drum, and his ragged breathing echoed the bellows of a blacksmith's forge.
The rising sun cast its first rays upon Chen Zong's face, mingling with his sweat to create a radiant glow brimming with youthful vigor.
Taking a deep breath, Chen Zong positioned his feet shoulder-width apart in a staggered stance. His front knee bent deeply, almost touching the ground, while his rear heel lifted, his foot planted firmly on the ground. Leaning forward, his weight balanced between his feet, every muscle taut, he extended his left hand in a tiger claw posture at eye level, his right hand loosely clenched near his chin. His hands formed a straight line, like a coiled tiger ready to strike, his face cold and stern, his gaze focused and sharp.
He gathered his strength, poised to strike.
"Hah!"
His explosive exhale echoed like spring thunder. His crouched body surged forward, his waist twisting, his spine undulating as if propelled by an unseen force. Momentum surged through him as his right fist shot out with full force, like a tiger extending its claws.
The Tiger Force Fist Technique, one of the Chen Clan's three foundational martial arts, imitated the movements of a tiger. Comprising five stances, mastery of this technique could temper fifty percent of the body, serving both as a method for strengthening the physique and invigorating blood qi, and as a formidable offensive and defensive art. Chen Zong had practiced it for two and a half years and had fundamentally mastered all five stances.
Chen Zong seamlessly executed the five stances of the Tiger Force Fist Technique, his fists generating gusts of wind. He retracted his fists, straightened his back, and exhaled a long, steady breath.
"Starting with the Tiger Stance and finishing with the Tiger Fury Stance, I can even produce the sound of wind, but I've only reached the Minor Mastery stage. When will I ever achieve Major Mastery?"
Martial arts cultivation is divided into four stages: Entry, Minor Mastery, Major Mastery, and Perfection. As the saying goes, "Major Mastery is attainable, but Perfection is exceedingly rare."
Reaching Major Mastery simply requires sufficient time and diligent practice. Perfection, however, demands a deep understanding of the art's fundamental principles and mastery of its essence.
The Tiger Force Fist Technique comprises four corresponding levels: Tiger Form, Tiger's Roar, Tiger's Howl, and Tiger Stance.
Tiger Form refers to the ability to fluently execute the five stances of the Tiger Force Fist Technique, superficially mimicking the posture of a fierce tiger. Its power is minimal, little more than an empty display.
Tiger's Roar involves performing the technique with seamless fluidity and generating a subtle whistling sound with each strike, resembling a tiger's low growl.
Tiger's Howl allows one to fully unleash the technique's power, creating an imposing presence as if a real tiger were standing before you, mouth agape in a thunderous roar—a display of astonishing ferocity.
As for the Tiger Stance, Chen Zong still couldn't grasp its essence. No one in his entire clan had ever mastered the Tiger Force Fist Technique to perfection.
"Most people can grasp the basics of Foundation Establishment martial arts in three months, achieve minor mastery in a year, and major mastery in three years. Yet it took me two years just to reach minor mastery," Chen Zong muttered to himself, his voice thick with frustration. "This cursed deficiency in Innate Blood Qi has forced me to train relentlessly for two and a half years, not only hindering my martial arts progress but also leaving my cultivation base stuck at the first layer of the Qi Blood Realm. How can I possibly compete in the Clan Martial Apprentice Battle next month? How can I gain entry to the Clan Hall? How can I find Precious Medicine for Father?"
Chen Zong's frustration burned anew when he thought of the clan members who had started training at the same time as him. Most had already reached at least the second layer of the Qi Blood Realm, and some had even advanced to the third. Even those a year younger than him had surpassed him, attaining the second layer of the Qi Blood Realm.
"If only I didn't have this deficiency in Innate Blood Qi..." Chen Zong's thoughts drifted back to his early childhood.
When he was still in the womb, a demon beast attack had threatened his mother's life. His birth had been difficult, and his mother had sacrificed herself to save him. Yet even this sacrifice couldn't erase the congenital deficiency in Innate Blood Qi that plagued him.
Though his deficient Innate Blood Qi severely hindered his martial arts progress, Chen Zong never harbored resentment. Yet, frustration inevitably crept in. Despite working several times harder than others, his congenital weakness kept him far behind.
"If once isn't enough, I'll do it twice. If twice isn't enough, I'll do it thrice. Father always said, 'A man must strive tirelessly.' I'm just slower than others, not incapable. If I persist, I'll succeed," Chen Zong growled, resuming the Tiger Stance and continuing his practice.
Such is fate. What choice do I have?
Only to rise to the challenge and never give up.
Tiger's Stance, Tiger's Charge, Tiger's Turn, Tiger's Leap, Tiger's Fury—he poured every ounce of strength into each movement. As the five stances flowed seamlessly together, his blood Qi surged, reddening his skin. Sweat streamed down, soaking his coarse gray shirt, and his bare feet left a crisscrossing pattern of footprints on the earthen ground.
The sun rose, bathing the land in golden light and awakening all life.
After three consecutive cycles of the Tiger Force Fist Technique, Chen Zong was forced to stop. His limbs twitched uncontrollably, his muscles felt as if they were tearing apart, and waves of searing pain washed over him like relentless tides.
"Not enough... keep going."
Chen Zong gritted his teeth, painfully stretching his limbs to assume the Tiger Stance once more.
I must grow stronger. I must become a martial artist and surpass the Qi Blood Realm. Only then can I find the Precious Medicine to heal Father and restore his cultivation base.
The searing pain made the veins on Chen Zong's forehead bulge, contorting his face and causing his entire body to convulse. Yet his indomitable will forced him to endure. He assumed the Tiger Stance again, gathering his strength, and unleashed the Tiger Rush Stance.
Day after day, Chen Zong trained like this, relentlessly pushing himself to the very edge of his limits.
After completing the fourth set, Chen Zong collapsed onto the ground, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. His limbs felt numb and alien. After a brief rest, he struggled to his feet, his stomach growling like thunder, convinced he could devour an entire ox.
As he walked home, a familiar figure approached—his father, Chen Zhengtang. His cheeks were gaunt, etched with faint lines of hardship. Dressed in a coarse gray tunic with a hemp rope slung over his shoulder and a woodcutter's knife at his waist, his steps remained steady.
"The porridge is ready. Eat it while it's hot," Chen Zhengtang said as usual when he saw Chen Zong. "Remember, martial arts training requires balance. Don't overexert yourself."
"Don't worry, Father. I'll be careful," Chen Zong replied with a smile, his face glowing with youthful vigor in the radiant morning sun.
Nodding, Chen Zhengtang walked past Chen Zong. Turning back, Chen Zong watched his father's once-robust back, now thin but still ramrod straight, until he disappeared around the corner.
The Chen Clan was a prominent clan in Small Lake Town, with hundreds of members and a daily consumption of vast quantities of firewood, rice, oil, and salt.
Chen Zhengtang had once been the clan's foremost martial artist. In his quest for Precious Medicine to replenish his Innate Blood Qi and enhance his cultivation, he had battled demon beasts, sustaining grievous injuries that depleted his vitality and ultimately cost him his entire cultivation base. Now a mere mortal, he was burdened with chronic ailments.
By rights, Chen Zhengtang deserved the clan's support for his past contributions. Yet, true to his name—"Upright Hall"—he refused to accept it.
"Losing my cultivation base doesn't cripple me," he insisted. "How could I rest easy living off the clan's charity?"
Unable to venture into the mountains for herbs or hunting, he took on whatever manual labor he could—chopping wood, hauling firewood—to support himself and his son.
Through his unwavering actions, Chen Zhengtang constantly taught Chen Zong, his influence permeating every aspect of his son's life.
Life is boundless, and self-improvement never ceases!
After finishing his meat porridge and washing the dishes, Chen Zong rested while reading a book. Martial arts strengthened his body and granted him formidable power, while reading cultivated his mind and enriched his inner world.
"Brother Zong... Brother Zong... Something terrible has happened!" A young man burst into the room, shouting urgently.
"What's the matter? Why are you in such a rush?" Chen Zong set down his book and turned to him with a smile.
The youth, Chen Yiming, wore a coarse blue martial arts uniform. With handsome features and remarkably bright eyes, he was just over a year younger than Chen Zong. Their fathers were close, and the two had grown up together, as close as brothers.
"They moved the Vitality Pill distribution forward, and Chen Zhigang stole your share, Brother Zong!" Chen Yiming gasped, his face flushed with anger.
Vitality Pills were crafted from a blend of grain essence and medicinal herbs, brimming with potent energy. They significantly aided the cultivation of Martial Apprentices in the first to third layers of the Qi Blood Realm, making them highly prized. Despite the Chen Clan's vast resources, each young member received only one pill every three months, making them highly valued.
"Never mind that for now. What happened to your eye?" Chen Zong's heart skipped a beat as he pointed to the bruise around Chen Yiming's left eye, his voice tight with concern.
"I saw Chen Zhigang snatching Brother Zong's Vitality Pill and tried to grab it back, but that grandson Chen Zhongjie ambushed me," Chen Yiming said nonchalantly. "If it hadn't been for that sneak attack, that little punk wouldn't stand a chance against me."
"But aren't the Vitality Pills distributed in the afternoon? And don't you have to pick them up in person?" Chen Zong asked, his voice low and simmering with anger—both because Chen Yiming had been injured and because his own Vitality Pill had been stolen.
"That's how it used to be, but the manager in charge of distribution got replaced. It's Chen Zhigang's uncle now. He said... he said that after two and a half years of cultivation, Brother Zong, you're still only at the first layer of the Qi Blood Realm—no better than trash. Giving you the Vitality Pill would be a waste, so he gave it to Chen Zhigang instead," Chen Yiming spat bitterly. "That damned bastard... he's been abusing his power because Chen Zhigang's father is the clan's strongest martial artist. He's been pulling unfair stunts left and right."
Hearing this, Chen Zong's anger flared anew, yet his voice remained chillingly calm. "Perhaps a single Vitality Pill won't make a significant difference, but without it, my progress will be even slower. This is tantamount to severing my path forward."
"Brother Zong, stay calm! Don't go after Chen Zhigang," Chen Yiming urged, noticing Chen Zong's chest heaving. "Chen Zhigang has not only reached the peak of the third layer of the Qi Blood Realm, but I also heard his Tiger Force Fist Technique recently reached Grand Mastery."
"Don't worry, I won't act rashly," Chen Zong replied, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He knew that giving in to anger would only worsen his situation. Ever since his father had lost all hope of recovering his cultivation base, their family's status in the clan had plummeted. With no one to uphold justice, impulsively confronting Chen Zhigang would only result in injury, further burdening his father.
I'll endure this for now, but this isn't over, Chen Zong vowed silently.