Sun's Martial Arts Hall, front courtyard.
Yang Jing's fists grew heavier with each punch. Sweat dripped from his jawline, striking the stone slabs and leaving small, dark patches.
He was completely oblivious, repeating the moves of the Mountain-Shattering Fist again and again. Every punch was a battle against himself.
Near the wall, a few disciples on break were whispering, their eyes fixed on the engrossed Yang Jing.
"Look at Senior Brother Yang. His drive is incredible. He's been here since before dawn and hasn't taken a single break."
A young, new disciple remarked in a low voice, his eyes filled with admiration. "If that were me, I would've collapsed long ago."
Someone next to him sneered. It was a disciple who had been at the hall for three months. He crossed his arms and eyed Yang Jing disdainfully. "What damn good is hard work? The Martial Dao is all about talent and aptitude. He's been here for almost half a year and is still stuck at the entry-level. He hasn't even attempted to break through once. It's clear his aptitude is absolute trash. Any more practice is just a waste of energy."
"Exactly," another disciple chimed in, his tone dismissive. "I heard from Senior Brother Zhang Kehan that this Yang Jing used to fool around with them. Now he's putting on this whole act. Does he really think training himself to death will let him successfully break through? Hasn't he seen that more than half of those with better talent than him have already left?"
"I bet he won't last another half a month. He'll probably crack under the pressure and leave with his tail between his legs before he even gets a chance to try breaking through."
Yang Jing paid no mind to their words.
After all, he had lived two lives and even experienced transmigration. Naturally, he had a strong heart.
He had endured all sorts of cold remarks and insults over the past few months; they couldn't faze him in the slightest.
Yang Jing continued to train earnestly, his fists still striking with fierce power.
Hall Master Sun Yong emerged from the inner courtyard. He gave Yang Jing a distant glance, shook his head, and walked away to instruct Lin Yue in his training.
In this Martial Arts Hall, aptitude was more precious than sweat. Most people were long accustomed to measuring everything by results. No one was willing to believe someone with mediocre aptitude could create a miracle.
Only the new young disciple remained where he stood, watching Yang Jing's sweat-drenched back and clenching his own fists.
...
In the shadows by the courtyard wall.
Zhou Lin nudged Zhang Kehan with her elbow and jutted her chin toward Yang Jing. "Look at him, still practicing like an idiot. He's like a spinning top, just going and going without a clue he should be tired."
Zhang Kehan followed her gaze and saw Yang Jing hammering his fists against a wooden post, the veins on his forehead bulging. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Isn't that the truth? At a time like this, he's still clinging to that sliver of hope. Does he really think hard work alone can defy heaven and change his fate? If he doesn't hurry up and pull some strings, call in some favors to see if he can stay in the city, he'll probably have to pack his bags and go back to Wazi Town to farm."
"We're having dinner with Lv Yang tonight. We can have a good laugh about this then. I guarantee he'll be laughing so hard his stomach will hurt." Zhou Lin pursed her lips, her tone tinged with mockery. "I never thought he'd turn into such a martial arts fanatic. What a pity, though. He's fanatical about the wrong thing."
Lv Yang had been at the Martial Arts Hall for over half a year but had failed to enter the Mingjin Realm, leaving a month ago. The three of them still met up occasionally, though less and less frequently. Tonight, however, they had made plans to have dinner together.
Zhang Kehan nodded and chuckled. The sound was low, but it dripped with schadenfreude.
In truth, neither he nor Zhou Lin had much time left at the Martial Arts Hall themselves. Watching Yang Jing's "struggle" had become a rare source of amusement for them.
In a clearing on the other side.
Qi Yun was sparring with Lin Yue.
She had already entered the Anjin realm, and her skills far surpassed Lin Yue's. Yet, she deliberately held back her strength, only guiding him gently whenever an opening appeared in his forms. She even offered soft-spoken advice, her approachable demeanor a stark contrast to her usual self.
Clearly, she was trying to get on the good side of this exceptionally talented junior brother.
"Master." Lin Yue had sharp eyes and was the first to spot Hall Master Sun Yong approaching. He quickly ceased his movements.
Qi Yun also turned and bowed respectfully.
Sun Yong waved his hand dismissively. His gaze fell upon Lin Yue, and he pointed out a flaw in his recent fist technique. "Your 'Mountain-Shattering Stone-Splitting' move is executed too hastily. The Qi of your Dantian isn't settled. It needs to be like striking a bell—gather your strength first, then release..."
As he spoke, he raised his hand to demonstrate.
Lin Yue listened with rapt attention, nodding from time to time.
Qi Yun waited to the side. Seeing that she wasn't needed, she quietly withdrew.
As she crossed the courtyard, her gaze swept over Yang Jing. She saw him still training with his head down, sweat pouring from his brow like rain. The sound of his fists hitting the wooden post was dull and obsessive. She couldn't help but scoff before turning her head away.
'Hopelessly stupid.'
She thought to herself, 'He's about to be kicked out, yet he's still fighting for some so-called sliver of hope. It's both laughable and pathetic.'
In her view, a wise person knew when to quit. To persist in something you knew was impossible wasn't perseverance, it was idiocy.
...
When the sun reached its zenith, Yang Jing's movements gradually grew sluggish. His blood and qi surged violently, and the beads of sweat on his forehead rolled down even more profusely.
Just as he was about to regulate his breathing, a gentle voice came from behind him.
"Junior Brother, sink your shoulders, don't shrug them. The Mountain-Shattering Fist emphasizes the unity of waist and stance. Your punches look fierce, but all the power is leaking out through your shoulders."
Liu Maolin walked over and gently pressed down on his shoulder. A steady force was transmitted, and Yang Jing immediately felt the tension in his stiff shoulders and neck ease considerably.
"Senior Brother Liu," Yang Jing said, panting. He adjusted his posture as instructed and found that his fist technique indeed felt smoother.
"Don't panic. Take it slow, you can definitely do it!" Liu Maolin patted his back, his eyes filled with genuine encouragement. "Breaking through isn't just about aptitude, one's spirit is also very important. Your drive is stronger than that of many others."
Yang Jing nodded, a warmth spreading through his chest. Just as he was about to say something more, Liu Maolin pointed to his footwork. "Keep your stance steadier, like you're rooted to the ground..."
Under a pagoda tree not far away, Qi Yun took in the scene, the corner of her mouth curling into a sneer.
She had just come from Lin Yue's side, holding a piece of osmanthus cake she had just sent Zhang Kehan out to buy. It was Lin Yue's favorite, so she had specifically sent someone to get it for him.
'A perfect pair of idiots.'
Qi Yun scoffed internally.
Liu Maolin had a decent reputation in Sun's Martial Arts Hall, and his strength ranked among the top. But his judgment was terrible. He was actually wasting his time on a disciple like Yang Jing, who was destined to be eliminated.
'Giving pointers? Encouragement?'
'What a complete waste of effort.'
'This Yang Jing has mediocre aptitude and he's already at the time limit. Even if a god came to guide him, it wouldn't change anything. Investing effort in him is a guaranteed total loss, what else could it be?'
She glanced at Lin Yue, who was being called over by their master, a shrewd glint flashing in her eyes.
'Compared to that piece of scrap metal Yang Jing, Lin Yue is the real blue-chip stock. Plus, he's favored by the Hall Master now. His future is limitless.'
'If I get on his good side now, when he soars to greatness in the future, the benefits I'd receive as one of the first to befriend him would be incomparable to anything trash like Yang Jing could offer.'
Qi Yun straightened her collar, held the osmanthus cake, and walked toward Lin Yue with a beaming smile.
As she passed by Yang Jing and Liu Maolin, she didn't even spare them a glance. Rather than waste time on fools, it was better to build her connections. That was the true way to establish oneself.
...
Yang Jing turned a deaf ear to all the gossip, focusing solely on his training.
'I've already practiced the Mountain-Shattering Fist to the absolute limit of the introductory stage. If what the panel says is true—that I have no bottlenecks when cultivating any Cultivation Technique or martial art—then my breakthrough to the Mingjin Realm should happen today.'
Time passed, second by second, minute by minute.
Soon, an hour had gone by.
As noon approached, some people were already getting ready to leave for lunch.
Yang Jing was still practicing with all his heart and soul.
Many disciples had grown used to this sight. They lamented that Yang Jing's aptitude was just too poor; otherwise, with his perseverance, he would have had some hope of developing internal strength.
In the center of the training ground.
Yang Jing was at the peak of his practice when he suddenly felt a light BUZZ from within his body, as if an invisible barrier had abruptly shattered.