With his Rickshaw Puller profession advancing from beginner to minor mastery, Fleet-Footed had upgraded to Gale Stride.

[Skill: Gale Stride]

[You run extremely fast and possess considerable lower body strength.]

Judging by the description, his speed had increased?

Testing it out, Xiangzi put in a burst of effort.

Sure enough, his pace was noticeably faster than before, and his fatigue felt lighter.

Normally, circling half the city in forty-six steps would leave him winded. Today, he dashed out of South City without a hint of exhaustion.

Truly the sacred physique of a beast of burden! Xiangzi chuckled self-deprecatingly, but his mind lingered on the skill’s second half.

Considerable lower body strength?

At beginner level, his legs were already strong enough to snap a small tree.

Now that he’d leveled up, had his strength grown further?

Entering East City, Xiangzi covered the rickshaw’s canopy—a sign he wasn’t taking passengers.

He had to deliver Liu Tang’s box to Baolin Martial Hall first.

Having agreed, he’d see it done properly.

A mistake would offend someone, and that was more trouble than it was worth.

East City was the haunt of the wealthy, with noticeably more patrol officers on the streets.

Relying on his memory, Xiangzi smoothly reached Baolin Martial Hall.

One of Forty-Nine City’s three great martial halls, Baolin was impressively grand, even in the pricey East City.

Two massive stone lions flanked a wide, black-lacquered gate, above which hung a black plaque with gilded characters.

The plaque was at least twice the size of Harmony’s sign.

What a display, Xiangzi thought. Truly imposing.

“What’s your business?” a young gatekeeper sauntered over, asking.

Xiangzi explained he was from Harmony Rickshaw Yard, sent by Liu Tang with something for Master Lin Junqing.

The gatekeeper froze at the name Lin Junqing, then hurried into the hall.

Moments later, he returned. “Master Lin’s in the back courtyard, but it’s not the best time. Follow me, and keep your eyes to yourself—no gawking.”

Xiangzi nodded with a smile.

They entered through a side gate.

The front courtyard opened into a vast training ground, equipped with wooden stakes, dummies, stone locks, and sandbags.

Shirtless men trained in the early spring chill, their shouts ringing with vigor.

Xiangzi even saw a young man kick a wooden dummy, snapping it clean in half.

The force, felt from yards away, made Xiangzi’s ears buzz.

Such leg strength, Xiangzi marveled. How much stronger than mine is that?

This is the world’s martial artists?

Noticing Xiangzi’s expression, the gatekeeper smirked. “These are just the hall’s apprentice disciples—not even real experts.”

Xiangzi was stunned.

Not experts?

Then what are true masters like?

Following the gatekeeper through the front courtyard, they wound through several turns to reach the back.

As one of Forty-Nine City’s top martial halls, Baolin’s scale was immense.

The back courtyard was quiet and secluded, if a bit cluttered, rarely tended.

A lean, middle-aged man opened the door.

In his thirties, he was handsome with an air of distinction.

His stern, chiseled face screamed master

at first glance.

But his stubbled chin and the lingering desolation in his eyes betrayed a sense of fallen glory.

The door was ajar.

Seeing a plain young rickshaw puller, Lin Junqing’s brows furrowed slightly.

Hearing Xiangzi’s purpose, a trace of warmth softened his eyes. “Rare for my junior brother to still think of me. You’ve gone to trouble—come in for tea.”

Xiangzi nodded, following Lin Junqing into the courtyard, where he understood why the gatekeeper had warned that “Master Lin was inconvenienced.”

Lin Junqing had a broken leg.

Though his long robe hid it, Xiangzi noticed his right leg was shorter than his left.

Xiangzi averted his gaze, pretending not to see, and placed the gilded box on the table.

Lin Junqing opened it.

Inside was a pill, its rich medicinal fragrance filling the room.

Lin Junqing closed the box, sighed, and motioned for Xiangzi to sit, fetching a pot of hot water.

Xiangzi stood to take it, smiling. “No need to trouble yourself, Master Lin—I can manage.”

Lin Junqing glanced at him, mildly surprised. This young puller sits upright, speaks and acts with poise—quite unlike the usual lot.

A spark of appreciation stirred in Lin Junqing. “What’s your name, young brother?”

“Master Lin, just call me Xiangzi.”

“Brother Xiangzi, wait a moment—I need to write a reply for Junior Brother Liu.”

“No trouble, Master Lin. Take your time.”

Lin Junqing took out a sheet of yellow paper and began writing.

Writing a letter was private, so Xiangzi sat properly, eyes fixed on his teacup, never straying.

Soon, the letter was done.

Lin Junqing wrapped it in clean newspaper.

Xiangzi took it, added a layer of blue cloth, and tucked it carefully into his pocket.

Lin Junqing paused, impressed. This rough-looking puller is meticulous.

He cupped his hands. “Sorry to delay your business, Brother Xiangzi.”

Xiangzi returned the gesture. “Small matter. I won’t disturb you further, Master Lin.”

Lin Junqing nodded, watching Xiangzi leave, his brows lifting slightly.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, steady steps—Xiangzi’s arm swings were perfectly balanced, his posture naturally relaxed, exuding an untrained yet innate coordination.

This puller has a solid foundation—a fine candidate for martial arts.

Shame he’s past the age.

If I’d met him before he was ten, Forty-Nine City might’ve gained a young martial artist.

Lin Junqing gave a wry smile. In my state, who am I to think of taking disciples?

The door closed, leaving the courtyard in quiet solitude.

The young gatekeeper, cautious, waited for Xiangzi at the entrance.

Seeing him emerge, he led Xiangzi out.

Though young, the gatekeeper was sharp. Seeing this puller linger so long with Lin Junqing—and the usually stern Master Lin sending him off with a warm smile—stirred his curiosity.

Even if Lin Junqing had fallen from favor in the hall, he was still the former head disciple.

With that in mind, the gatekeeper’s attitude toward Xiangzi softened.

“Is Master Lin a true master?” Xiangzi ventured.

The gatekeeper’s lips curved. “Of course. Master Lin is the hall master’s direct disciple. Years ago, he was among Forty-Nine City’s top talents. Even the hall master said in a few years, the teacher might not outmatch the student.”

He paused. “But a few years back, in that arena match…” He stopped, unwilling to say more.

It was a hall secret, not for outsiders.

Xiangzi didn’t press, though he was quietly stunned.

The hall master’s direct disciple?

Sounds impressive.

Lin Junqing called Liu Tang “junior brother.” Could Liu Tang’s martial skills come from Baolin Martial Hall?