New topics of conversation quickly overshadowed old news.
Some said the Yiqi Gang had seized the opportunity to swallow up the Great Fortune Gang's territory and was now stronger than ever.
Others mentioned a new restaurant had opened on the west side of town. The chef was hired from the Prefecture City, and his braised pork knuckle was to die for.
Still others spoke of war breaking out over in Caozhou, saying more and more refugees were arriving from the west.
Every day, when Yang Jing went to the market to buy meat, he would listen in on these conversations. He paid particular attention to the situation in Caozhou. His father and uncle had both gone there with a grain transport convoy, and with no word from them since, he couldn't help but worry.
...
One day, the sun was scorching hot.
Yang Jing finished his fist practice, rested for a moment, and left the Martial Arts Hall.
He followed the address he had inquired about earlier and found Zhang Yaren at the West Market Alleyway.
The man was a wiry fellow with a goatee, always clutching a ring of keys and greeting everyone with a broad smile.
"Are you looking for a courtyard home, sir?" Zhang Yaren sized up Yang Jing. Though his clothes were simple, his gaze was steady, so the broker didn't dare to be dismissive. "There are plenty of empty homes these days. A while back, many families moved to the Prefecture City or the provincial capital, so the prices are a real bargain."
Yang Jing nodded. "I need a standalone house with its own entrance, close to Chengping Square. A small courtyard will do."
"What a coincidence!" Zhang Yaren's eyes lit up as he led him east. "Right on the border of Chengping Square and Tongyi Square, there's a little courtyard by a stream. An old scholar used to live there, but he just moved out last month. I'll take you to have a look right now."
"Alright," Yang Jing said.
Following Zhang Yaren, they passed through two streets and, sure enough, heard the gurgling of water.
A row of small, blue-tiled courtyards was built along a stream. The stream wasn't wide, but its water was clear enough to see the bottom. Several weeping willows grew on the bank, their branches dipping into the water and creating concentric ripples.
Zhang Yaren opened the gate to the easternmost courtyard. With a CREAK, the scene inside was revealed.
The courtyard wasn't large—a little smaller than the one he rented at the communal bunkhouse, but not by much. It had several paths paved with bluestone slabs, a pile of old flower pots in one corner, and a few morning glory vines climbing the wall, their flowers in vibrant bloom.
The main building had two rooms: one for resting and one for receiving guests. The window paper was intact, and a string of dried mugwort hanging under the eaves gave off a faint, medicinal scent.
The east wing had been converted into a woodshed, and there was a small kitchen on the west side. Yang Jing went in to have a look; it was fully equipped with pots, pans, and bowls.
Yang Jing stood in the courtyard. By the wall grew an old locust tree, its lush foliage shading most of the yard from the sun.
"Look at this location," Zhang Yaren said, pointing west. "Past that alley ahead is Chengping Square. It's only about an incense stick's walk away."
He then pointed to the stream outside the gate. "This stream is flowing water, so it's convenient for fetching water, and it keeps things cool in the summer."
Yang Jing walked a lap around the courtyard. The feel of his feet on the stone slabs was incredibly grounding.
The two main rooms were enough to live in, the courtyard was spacious enough for him to practice his fists and kicks, and it was close to the Martial Arts Hall. It was exactly what he was looking for.
He had looked at several courtyards over the past few days, but this little one satisfied him the most.
"How much for this courtyard?"
Zhang Yaren rubbed his hands together. "To be honest with you, in normal times, a place in this location would go for at least fifty taels. But with the world in chaos, I'll give you a cheaper price: thirty-five taels of silver. The deed, the furniture—it's all yours."
Yang Jing didn't haggle. He took out the silver from his robes, counted out thirty-five taels, and handed it over.
Zhang Yaren's eyes narrowed into slits as he smiled. He quickly pulled the deed from his own robes, counted out three keys for the courtyard gate, and handed everything to Yang Jing. "The paperwork is all in order. Please check it carefully. From now on, this courtyard is yours."
Yang Jing took the deed. As his fingertips touched the rough paper, a sudden sense of stability washed over him.
'From now on, this place is truly mine. I no longer have to worry about my training being inconvenient, no longer have to hide what I'm doing...'
Zhang Yaren offered a few more auspicious words, then cupped his hands and took his leave.
Yang Jing closed the gate and stood alone in the courtyard. He walked under the old locust tree, feeling the cool summer air, and couldn't help but smile.
After a short rest, Yang Jing took a piece of cooled, cooked tiger meat from his old cloth bag and began to eat it in large bites.
After finishing the large piece of tiger meat, Yang Jing walked around the courtyard a bit more before locking the gate and heading to the Martial Arts Hall.
Zhang Yaren had said it was an incense stick's walk to Sun's Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square, but Yang Jing was a martial artist. Strong and fit, he walked faster than an ordinary person. It only took him half an incense stick's time to get from his courtyard on the border of Tongyi Square and Chengping Square to the Martial Arts Hall.
He was overjoyed about his new home, and his steps were light as he walked.
Arriving at the Martial Arts Hall, Yang Jing removed his outer shirt and began practicing the Mountain-Shattering Fist, bare-chested, in the front courtyard.
Time passed slowly.
The sun gradually moved from its zenith to the horizon.
Twilight spread like ink bleeding across paper, and the training grounds in the Martial Arts Hall's front courtyard gradually fell silent.
The handymen finished putting away the equipment, shouldered their brooms, and left one by one. On the vast grounds, only Yang Jing's figure remained, still in motion.
He sank into a low horse stance, the forms of his Mountain-Shattering Fist unfolding in the twilight.
The wind from his fists stirred the deepening night. Each punch was accompanied by a muffled WHOOSH, exceptionally clear in the empty courtyard.
Sweat already covered his body, dripping from his chin to the ground below. It created small, dark patches that were quickly dried by the wind.
When the sky turned completely black, he was still training.
Before, he lacked the means. But now, with a plentiful supply of ferocious beast meat providing ample nourishment, he was willing to pour every last ounce of his energy into the Martial Dao, striving for his absolute limits of improvement each day.
Besides, through his panel, he could clearly see his progress. This made him even more addicted to this kind of tangible improvement, allowing him to forget the hardship and pain of training.
Moonlight crept over the wall, stretching his shadow long. It intertwined with the shadow of his fists, making it impossible to tell which was fist and which was shadow.
"Heh."
A soft sound came from behind him.
Yang Jing retracted his fist and turned to see his master, Sun Yong, standing under the covered walkway, watching him. He hadn't noticed him emerge from the inner courtyard.
Sun Yong wore a plain long robe and stroked his beard. His gaze lingered on Yang Jing for a moment, seemingly moved, but he quickly shook his head.
Yang Jing hurriedly bowed. "Master."
Sun Yong grunted in acknowledgment and nodded. He walked forward, his gaze sweeping over Yang Jing's reddened fists, then to the various deep and shallow footprints on the ground.
These were the marks left by Yang Jing's training, so dense they covered a large area around him.
Sun Yong did feel a stir in his heart. For over half a year, he had observed the training status of every disciple, and none in the Martial Arts Hall could compare to the diligence of the young man before him.
'But in the end...' Sun Yong sighed inwardly and shook his head slightly.
In the path of the Martial Dao, hard work was certainly important, but one's innate constitution was even more critical.
Yang Jing's constitution could only be considered low-grade, and a mediocre one at that. Breaking through to the realm of Overt Strength was already a stroke of immense luck. As for reaching Hidden Strength, that was as difficult as ascending to the heavens. He would likely remain at this level for the rest of his life.
Such a disciple had diligence in spades but lacked potential. He was simply not worth teaching without holding anything back.
Lin Yue, on the other hand, had a superior constitution and exceptionally high comprehension. He had broken through to Hidden Strength in less than half a year of training. His prospects of reaching Transforming Strength in the future were high. Only a genius like him could support the future of the Martial Arts Hall.
"Your fists have plenty of brutal force, but they lack agility."
Sun Yong collected his thoughts and offered a casual pointer. "While Overt Strength emphasizes explosive power, you must also understand how to accumulate force. It's like drawing a bow—you pull back before you release to achieve greater power. Your 'Stone-Splitter' just now was too rushed; you wasted thirty percent of its force."
Yang Jing's heart jolted at his words. He mulled over the phrase "accumulate force," and the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He nodded quickly. "Thank you for your guidance, Master!"
Sun Yong waved his hand, said no more, and turned to walk toward the inner courtyard.
As he passed through the Moon Gate, he glanced back at Yang Jing, who was still contemplating the principles of the fist. He finally sighed and thought to himself, 'Such diligence, what a waste.'
Yang Jing didn't notice his master Sun Yong's complicated expression. He was repeatedly practicing the 'Stone-Splitter' move, trying to slow down the rhythm of his punch. Just as his master had said, he could feel the Overt Strength in his body condensing more solidly.
...