By the time the setting sun had dyed the western sky crimson, Yang Jing had arrived at Fenglou Village.
Fenglou Village was in a remote part of Wazi Town, situated by a large lake and flanked by riverbanks covered in ankle-deep wild grass. A single, winding dirt road led into the village, connecting it to the other villages in Wazi Town. It was the only way in or out.
Yang Jing immediately slipped into the woods beside the road. The last of the sunlight filtering through the leaves gradually faded, and a chill crept in with the twilight.
As night fell, a cold wind whipped through the treetops, carrying a damp chill from the lake that bit to the bone.
In times like these, many families skipped dinner. Coupled with the cold, most people went to bed as soon as it got dark.
The lights in Fenglou Village were extinguished early, and not even a dog could be heard barking. Only the dirt road remained, gleaming faintly white in the moonlight.
Yang Jing pulled his coat tighter, his gaze locked on the end of the dirt road. He was a patient man, and he waited from dusk until the sky was filled with stars.
It wasn't until late at night that a figure appeared, staggering in from the distance. By the light of the moon, Yang Jing confirmed the man's identity—it was Feng Lei.
Feng Lei was stocky, bundled in a thick padded jacket. He walked toward the village along the dirt road with his neck sunk into his collar, his footsteps exceptionally clear in the silence.
Yang Jing waited for Feng Lei to pass, only making his move after a good distance separated them.
He moved quietly, following from a distance and using the shadows of the trees for cover. He watched as Feng Lei turned into the third mud-brick house from the village entrance. The wooden door swung shut with a CREAK, and only then did Yang Jing retreat deep into the woods, vanishing into the cold night.
...
After leaving Fenglou Village, Yang Jing didn't return to the city.
The city gates would have long been closed at this hour.
So, Yang Jing found a posthouse outside the city to rest for the night.
Originally, these posthouses weren't open to anyone not on official business. But with the world in chaos and the Court's control weakened, they had become resting places for travelers, allowing the Posthouse Minister and other officials to line their pockets.
Yang Jing spent twenty large copper coins for a room.
Lying in bed, Yang Jing placed his hands behind his head and stared at the canopy above, his mind lost in thought.
'Today wasn't a good opportunity. Feng Lei had been drinking, but he didn't seem drunk.'
'But a man like Feng Lei is a hopeless drunk. He drinks almost every day. My mother told me he often beats his wife when he's black-out drunk, so much so that she took their child and returned to her parents' home.'
Yang Jing mused to himself.
He hadn't expected to find a perfect opportunity on his first trip, and besides, he wasn't fully prepared himself.
But this scouting trip wasn't a waste. At least he now knew where Feng Lei lived.
With these thoughts running through his mind, he eventually drifted off to sleep.
...
「Early the next morning.」
Yang Jing first returned to his residence in Datong Square, ate the remaining pound of horse meat from the day before, and then immediately headed to Sun's Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square.
"Junior Brother Yang, is everything alright at home?" Liu Maolin asked as he walked over just as Yang Jing arrived.
Liu Maolin's impression of Yang Jing had been full of twists and turns.
At first, his impression of Yang Jing had been neutral, even a little poor. Back then, Yang Jing had spent his days fooling around with Lv Yang, Zhang Kehan, and their crowd, unable to get his priorities straight. It was a path that would only lead to his own ruin.
Although Liu Maolin never let it show, he couldn't be bothered with that type of person.
But then, Yang Jing changed.
He began to train with a maniacal fervor.
That mad energy surprised Liu Maolin and made him a little curious.
It was this curiosity that led Liu Maolin to approach Yang Jing and occasionally offer him pointers on his training.
But as they interacted more, he discovered Yang Jing's diligence, focus, and composure, and his impression of him improved immensely.
"Nothing's wrong, Fourth Senior Brother," Yang Jing said, shaking his head.
After a brief exchange, Yang Jing began his body-tempering exercises.
The pound of horse meat he had eaten earlier was rapidly broken down as he trained, providing him with the energy he needed for his practice.
After his tempering exercises, Yang Jing began to practice the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
Through his panel, he could see his progress every day. This ability to constantly track his improvement made Yang Jing even more invested and focused in his training.
Just as Yang Jing was concentrating on his fist forms, a sudden commotion erupted not far away.
Yang Jing stopped and looked quizzically in the direction of the noise.
A dozen or so disciples were gathered in a circle. In the center stood Hall Master Sun Yong, and next to him was an unfamiliar boy of about fifteen or sixteen.
'Is that... a new disciple?' Yang Jing wondered, walking over to get a closer look.
The boy was quite handsome, with a shy smile on his face. He kept his head slightly bowed, looking at the ground, clearly uncomfortable with so many people staring at him.
"Fourth Senior Brother, what's going on?" Yang Jing asked quietly, walking up beside Liu Maolin.
Liu Maolin glanced back at Yang Jing and whispered, "Our Martial Arts Hall has a new genius."
"A genius?" Yang Jing froze for a second before it clicked. He looked at the handsome boy in the center of the crowd. "Him?"
Liu Maolin nodded, his eyes full of envy as he looked at the handsome youth. "That's our new junior brother, Lin Yue," he said in awe. "He's incredible. The Master just assessed his bones and found he has an Upper-Grade Root Bone."
"An Upper-Grade Root Bone?" Yang Jing was stunned.
As far as he knew, most of the disciples in Sun's Martial Arts Hall, like himself, had Lower-Grade Root Bones. Only a handful possessed Middle-Grade Root Bones. As for an Upper-Grade Root Bone, there wasn't a single one.
Root Bones were divided into Upper, Middle, and Lower grades. He recalled Senior Sister Qi once mentioning offhandedly that there were even finer distinctions, with variations in quality even within the same grade.
'Incredible,' Yang Jing marveled to himself.
An Upper-Grade Root Bone felt like something from another world to him.
He trained like a madman every day, resting far less than the other disciples, but even so, any random disciple with a Middle-Grade Root Bone could leave him in the dust when it came to training progress.
'So what did that make an Upper-Grade Root Bone?'
"From now on, I will personally instruct Lin Yue in his body-tempering and fist forms." Sun Yong tried to put on his usual stern expression, but he couldn't hide the smile on his face. He turned to the other disciples in the courtyard and shooed them away. "Don't just stand around gawking. All of you, scatter!"
Yang Jing was secretly speechless.
'I always thought Old Man Sun was just strict and severe,' he thought. 'Turns out he just has double standards.'
The crowd dispersed. Some found a place to practice, while others went to the rest area by the wall to chat, all of them casting glances at Lin Yue filled with unconcealed envy.
Yang Jing shook his head, clearing his mind of stray thoughts.
He returned to his spot and resumed practicing the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
He trained until noon, when the other disciples began to leave one by one.
Yang Jing wiped the sweat from his body, put on his outer clothes, and prepared to leave as well.
"Junior Brother Lin, the Master invites you to the inner courtyard for a meal."
Just then, a gentle voice called out.
Yang Jing looked up to see Senior Sister Qi Yun leading Lin Yue into the inner courtyard with a broad smile.