「Five days later.」

The front courtyard of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square.

The pleasant sunlight dispelled some of the winter chill.

On the bluestone-paved training grounds, Yang Jing stood to the side, watching Jiang Haoyang practice the basic forms of the Mountain-Shattering Fist.

Jiang Haoyang held a horse stance, executing each movement with practiced form. However, his strikes still lacked a certain ferocity.

He was currently stuck at a bottleneck, unable to make a breakthrough.

Each punch carried the abundant power unique to a young man, and tiny beads of sweat soon broke out on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks.

"Sink your shoulders, drop your elbows," Yang Jing said at the opportune moment, his voice clear and firm. "When you punch, don’t just use your arm strength. Try to channel the power from your waist and abdomen, letting it flow upward. That’s how you’ll stabilize your strikes."

As he spoke, he stepped forward and gently pressed on Jiang Haoyang’s shoulder to adjust his posture. "See? When you sink down like this, don’t you feel more stable? Generate power from the small of your back, let it drive your shoulder, and then extend to your fist. The force must flow continuously, like water. It can’t be broken."

Jiang Haoyang adjusted his posture as instructed, trying to channel power from his core to his fists. As expected, his strikes felt more grounded and no longer as hollow as before.

Gritting his teeth, he practiced the three basic forms—cleaving, smashing, and shattering—one more time, not stopping until Yang Jing nodded for him to do so.

When he relaxed his stance, Jiang Haoyang was already drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. He picked up a towel lying nearby and wiped his face, which was flushed with excitement. "Thank you so much, Senior Brother!"

He wiped the sweat from his temples and said with a smile, "I used to feel like this hurdle was made of iron—completely impassable. But after training with you these past few days, Senior Brother, I feel like that bottleneck has started to loosen. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And he truly meant it.

Jiang Haoyang’s natural aptitude was average, which was actually considered quite good at the Martial Arts Hall. But developing true martial strength was no easy feat. If a disciple couldn’t do it within half a year, they would have to leave.

He used to feel that breakthrough was completely out of reach, but now he had made immense progress. It was all thanks to Yang Jing’s patience, breaking down the movements for him bit by bit and explaining the secrets to generating power—from the posture of sinking the shoulders and dropping the elbows to how to circulate his Qi Blood. The instructions were incredibly detailed.

"It’s all thanks to your excellent guidance, Senior Brother," Jiang Haoyang said, looking at Yang Jing with eyes full of gratitude. "Ordinary disciples like us, with no special talent, are lucky to get a word or two of instruction from the Hall Master each day. It’s nothing like the careful teaching you receive from the Master, Senior Brother."

’In his eyes, the only reason he could feel his bottleneck loosening was thanks to Yang Jing’s patient instruction.’

Compared to Hall Master Sun Yong’s terse, to-the-point teachings, Yang Jing’s explanations were far more detailed. They were better suited to the struggles of a beginner like him and had helped him avoid many pitfalls.

Yang Jing looked at his genuine smile and waved a hand dismissively. "That’s mainly because you’re willing to put in the effort yourself. There are no shortcuts on the Martial Dao. Practice more, reflect more, and you’ll eventually find the path."

He paused, then added, "That initial breakthrough relies heavily on Qi Blood. Run a few extra laps every morning to build up your physique. Once your Qi Blood is sufficient, breaking through the bottleneck will be much easier."

"Alright! I’ll remember that, Senior Brother!"

Jiang Haoyang nodded emphatically, taking the words to heart. He picked up his towel, wiped away his sweat, and prepared to practice the forms a few more times.

Yang Jing gave a slight nod, walked to the center of the front courtyard, and prepared to begin his own training.

The sun gradually climbed to its zenith, bathing the courtyard in a pleasant warmth.

Before he knew it, noon had arrived. The disciples at the Martial Arts Hall began to pack up and head home. Yang Jing stopped his training as well and said to Jiang Haoyang, who was waiting nearby, "It’s getting late. Let’s head home for lunch. You can continue practicing this afternoon."

"Sounds good, Senior Brother!" Jiang Haoyang agreed cheerfully. He quickly packed his bundle and left with Yang Jing.

The two walked west, side by side, passing through the main intersection of Chengping Square.

Upon reaching the entrance to an alley in Tongyi Square, Yang Jing stopped. "This is my stop. Be careful on your way."

"See you later, Senior Brother!" Jiang Haoyang waved and continued west, his slender figure soon disappearing around the corner toward Shuiyun Square.

Yang Jing turned into the alley and followed the familiar path to his courtyard gate.

As he pushed open the wooden door, the rich aroma of cooking food immediately washed over him.

"Brother Jing is back?"

Yang An poked his head out from the kitchen, a good-natured smile on his face.

He wore a coarse cloth tunic, faded from countless washings, with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands were still dusted with a bit of flour.

"Brother," Yang Jing replied with a smile, setting down the cloth bundle in his hand. "Your cooking is getting better and better. It smells delicious."

"I stewed that black meat and stir-fried a couple of vegetable dishes," Yang An said, wiping his hands and placing the last plate of stir-fried greens on the table. "Go wash up first. There’s cool tea on the table, so have a drink and rest for a minute. Dinner will be ready soon."

This "black meat" was the high-grade Exotic Beast Meat that Yang Jing procured from the Exotic Beast Pavilion.

Because the flesh was black, as if coated in a layer of ink, Yang An had simply started calling it "black meat."

"Alright." Yang Jing agreed. He walked over to the water vat in the corner of the courtyard, scooped some warm water into a copper basin, and carefully washed his hands.

The soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks from the kitchen mingled with the aroma of the food, filling him with a sense of warmth.

Hands washed, Yang Jing went into the main hall and sat down. At the sight of the steaming dishes on the table, his stomach couldn’t help but let out a RUMBLE.

Yang Jing and Yang An sat down opposite each other and picked up their bowls and chopsticks.

The bowl of Exotic Beast Meat on the table was steaming. Its flesh was dark and glossy, as if coated in ink, yet it exuded a rich, meaty fragrance.

Yang Jing picked up a piece. The meat was incredibly tender, melting in his mouth with a uniquely rich and mellow flavor. The pure Qi Blood Power contained within it slid down his throat, causing the Inner Strength in his Dantian to stir faintly. This was the magic of Exotic Beast Meat, a quality that ordinary food could never hope to match.