Under the cool moonlight, Lin Junqing’s brows arched slightly.

A faint smile rippled across his usually icy face.

“Not bad, kid. Got a sharp eye. Now watch closely!”

His words barely landed when Lin Junqing paused, his figure trembling faintly.

The middle-aged martial artist positioned his left hand forward, right hand tucked inside his left elbow. With a breath, his frame quivered slightly, and his entire presence transformed!

His feet rooted to the ground, steady as a mountain anchoring an abyss.

Stepping forward with his left foot, his right fist surged out like a tiger leaping from the hills.

Lin Junqing’s robes snapped in the night breeze, his fistwork devoid of any flourish.

Compared to Liu Tang’s display at the training grounds, it even seemed overly plain.

Yet Xiangzi trembled, eyes unblinking, pupils locked on the middle-aged martial artist’s movements.

He could tell: this was an exceptionally refined fist technique!

Its brilliance lay not in the moves but in the method of force.

The forms were simple—straight lines, arcs, nothing flashy—but they carried an inexplicable vigor, a flowing strength.

To think that a mere ninth-rank beginner’s realm could unleash such might?

After a long while, Lin Junqing retracted his stance, gazing at Xiangzi. “Did you see it clearly?” he asked in a low voice.

Xiangzi nodded heavily.

“Alright, kid, show me a set!” Lin Junqing stood with hands behind his back, his gaze sharp as a blade.

Xiangzi said nothing. His left foot ground lightly into the earth, right leg straightening, heel slightly raised.

In the moonlight, Xiangzi’s stance carried a hint of stiffness and clumsiness. Lin Junqing’s brows furrowed—the form wasn’t a complete disaster, but it sorely lacked fluidity.

This big lug had robust blood energy but was utterly hopeless at channeling and directing force.

No surprise there. Starting martial arts at eighteen, with his body’s membranes nearly set, how could he easily master a fist technique demanding such precise force control?

With a sigh, Lin Junqing turned and retreated to the house.

—

In the small courtyard, moonlight spilled gently.

Liu Tang lay half-reclined on his bed, staring blankly.

The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a pallor on his already ashen face, making it even more ghostly.

He was indeed at the ninth-rank minor achievement realm, but without reaching the seventh-rank membrane-condensing realm, how could a ninth-rank martial artist’s skin withstand the power of a gunpowder shot?

A simple gunshot wound would’ve been manageable. With his robust ninth-rank blood energy, Liu Tang wouldn’t be in such a sorry state.

The real trouble was the mine dust.

Spending two days and a night in the mining district, that dust had seeped through his wounds into his limbs and bones.

It wasn’t enough to contract “mine miasma,” but the qi vortex in his dantian had been thoroughly wrecked.

His path in martial arts might truly be severed.

To say he felt no loss would be a lie.

Yet, at this moment, Liu Tang harbored little despair.

This outcome was something he’d foreseen when he resolved to rush to the Li family’s mining district.

Surviving at all was a stroke of fortune.

—

The creak of the door bolt snapped Liu Tang from his thoughts.

Seeing his senior brother enter, Liu Tang forced a weak smile.

Lin Junqing spoke softly, “Rest well for a few days. Plan your next move once you’re healed.”

Feeling a bit stifled, Liu Tang pushed open the window, his gaze falling on the big figure in the courtyard.

When he saw Xiangzi’s movements clearly, his eyes widened in shock. “Senior Brother, you taught him the Mind-Intent Six Harmonies Fist?”

“It’s time. Drink your medicine,” Lin Junqing said with a smile, ladling a bowl of steaming herbal broth from a bubbling clay pot and handing it over.

“It’s just a foundation technique. My leg’s been lame for years; this technique was wasted on me.”

Lin Junqing spoke lightly, but Liu Tang felt a pang of regret. Back when his senior brother was in his prime, it was this very foundation technique that caught the old hall master’s eye, earning him a spot as a direct disciple.

At this thought, Liu Tang felt a twinge of shame—his senior brother’s actions were likely in gratitude for Xiangzi saving his life.

In the end, he owed this senior brother far too much.

Noticing his junior brother’s mood, Lin Junqing stood leisurely and said, “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. I taught that rickshaw puller the fist technique purely because I see potential. He’s only been training for a few months, yet his blood energy is impressive, and his lower stance is remarkably stable—truly rare.”

“This fist technique hinges on ‘force born from the root.’ My leg’s been injured for years, and even my fist intent has rusted. In that kid’s hands, this technique might just shine.”

Shine?

Liu Tang was stunned. In all their years together, this was the first time he’d heard such praise from his proud, rigid senior brother.

Yet faintly, he sensed there was more to his senior brother’s decision.

“But that kid won’t master it so easily. Even with our master’s guidance, it took me half a month to get proficient,” Lin Junqing said casually, though his eyes dimmed imperceptibly at the mention of “master.”

Liu Tang noticed and fell silent.

He’d heard snippets about the origins of his senior brother’s Mind-Intent Six Harmonies Fist.

Back then, he was too young to understand, only vaguely recalling how, years ago, his senior brother ignored all advice and insisted on stepping into that ring—something tied to that unnamed master.

Even the old hall master used to tease, half-jealously, that Lin Junqing valued that master more than him.

Whenever those words came up, Lin Junqing would only smile and say little.

As Liu Tang pondered, his gaze drifted to the courtyard outside.

Suddenly, his face froze.

Lin Junqing followed his gaze, and his expression stilled.

—

The moonlight, cool and faint, draped over the big figure in the courtyard.

Xiangzi’s short tunic was soaked through, his dantian’s blood energy nearly depleted.

Yet he gritted his teeth, running through the fist forms again and again.

If not for the panel’s “once proven, forever proven,” he’d likely have collapsed by now.

As Xiangzi completed the fifth run of the Mind-Intent Six Harmonies Fist, a clear ding rang in his mind!

[Mind-Intent Six Harmonies Fist +1]

[Progress: 1/100 (Beginner)]

In that instant, Xiangzi’s frame shuddered.

A subtle aura seemed to coil around him.

His once-stiff movements turned fluid, his clumsy steps gaining a nimble grace.

Bathed in moonlight, Xiangzi’s figure moved unhurriedly, his waist twisting and hips turning with growing ease.

His feet sank abruptly, a surge of force rising from his legs, flowing through his shoulders to his elbows and wrists.

Suddenly, his presence shifted.

Moonlight spilled down, his spine slightly arched, like a freshly forged spear!

It truly carried the charm of “force born from the root, unified through the body, blending strength and finesse.”

Inside, Lin Junqing exhaled softly, suppressing the stir in his heart.

This kid!

In just an hour, his fist forms already looked proper?