chsdbacks Chapter 12 The road ahead is difficult, but the fist must never give up.
Chapter 12 The road ahead is difficult, but the fist must never give up.
Wang Quanfu's chubby face beamed with an even wider smile, patting his chest: "Go ahead and say it! Why be so polite with your uncle?"
Zhang Yuan's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority: "My current cultivation of martial arts is still shallow, and I urgently need a large amount of spiritual herbs and precious materials to refine my body and temper my qi and blood."
"The medicines from ordinary pharmacies are not potent enough; I need real 'precious medicines.' This concerns my future in martial arts, so I humbly request that you, my uncle, do your best to find some for me."
"Precious... precious medicine?" Wang Quanfu's smile froze instantly, his eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open, not knowing how to respond for a moment.
He thought Zhang Yuan would at most ask for some money or ordinary items, but he never expected that he would ask for valuable cultivation resources!
Zhang Yuan quietly observed his changing expressions and slowly added, "What? Your uncle won't refuse to help with such a small matter, will he? If your uncle is in a difficult position..."
He paused, his voice still calm, yet carrying a subtle, almost imperceptible pressure.
"Then I can only ask my teacher, Counselor Chen, for help. Oh, by the way, I heard that several of my father's comrades-in-arms who risked their lives for him now hold important positions in prefectures and counties, and wield military power."
"If they knew that their father's orphan had ruined his martial arts foundation because of a mere elixir, they probably wouldn't stand idly by."
"No! No, no, no!" Wang Quanfu's expression changed several times in an instant, from astonishment to suspicion, and then to a hint of panic that was hard to hide.
Counselor Chen was a confidant of the county magistrate, and those military generals were even more people he couldn't afford to offend!
He quickly waved his hand, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace back onto his face, his voice urgent: "Nephew Qingyang, what are you saying! Your cultivation needs are of paramount importance! How could your uncle not help?"
"Leave this to my cousin! Leave it to my cousin!"
Afraid that Zhang Yuan might say something else, he quickly said, "Uncle will go look for him right away! Right away! I'll send you news as soon as I have it! You rest, rest!"
After saying that, he almost ran away from the Zhang family mansion with his servants, his back view looking rather disheveled.
Watching Wang Quanfu flee in disarray, Zhang Yuan's lips curled into a barely perceptible mocking smile, and he gently shook his head.
Zhang Gu, who had witnessed everything, sighed softly, his voice tinged with complex emotions: "Young Master, this cousin... if he can truly find some precious medicine, that would be a good thing. But... alas, the family is indeed facing dire financial straits right now, this old servant..."
Zhang Yuan waved his hand, interrupting the old servant, and said in a calm tone, "Master Gu, there's no need to worry. I have my own plans regarding cultivation."
Money and resources are like towering mountains on the path of martial arts, but Zhang Yuan has long been accustomed to finding a way out in desperate situations.
Wang Quanfu's path may not be successful, but at least it revealed the other party's attitude and planted a seed of possibility.
If all else fails... he touched the cold, broken hilt of the sword in his arms, a resolute glint flashing deep in his eyes.
He has fifteen years left to live, and the deduction system is his greatest asset, but resources... he still has to find a way to "compete" for them.
After saying that, he didn't linger and turned to walk straight to the study.
The afterglow of the setting sun stretched his slender yet already upright back into a long shadow.
Zhang Gu watched his retreating figure, his lips moved, but ultimately turned into a long, silent sigh.
Inside the study, the dim light from the oil lamp dispelled the darkness.
Zhang Yuan did not light a lamp. Instead, he slowly stood in the center of the study, using the last bit of daylight filtering in from the window.
He took a deep breath, as if to inhale the seven years of silence in the mansion and the turmoil of today into his lungs, and then expel it as power.
With legs slightly apart, lower your waist and sit on your hips, assuming the starting stance of the Wild Bull Fist.
The movements were slow and deliberate, with each subtle adjustment conveying a sense of perfect harmony and mastery.
"breathe--"
The long, drawn-out breathing sounded particularly clear in the quiet study.
With each breath, the viscous, lead- and mercury-like qi and blood in his body began to flow faster, and his muscles and bones emitted a faint but continuous hum, like countless tiny bowstrings vibrating.
"boom!"
A punch was slowly thrown out!
Instead of pursuing speed, he concentrated all the strength of his body, the coordination of his muscles, bones, skin, and the trajectory of his blood circulation into this seemingly slow punch.
The air was compressed, producing a dull popping sound!
The force of five hundred pounds burst forth in a small space, and the resulting gust of wind made the few scattered pages on the desk rustle loudly.
Sweat quickly seeped from his forehead and slid down his taut cheeks.
Every exertion of force is accompanied by a huge consumption of qi and blood.
The warmth from the feast of slaughtering the cow and dividing the meat had long since vanished, replaced by a familiar, slight emptiness caused by the rapid depletion of energy.
He knew that without the replenishment of precious medicines and spiritual food, relying solely on ordinary meals would result in an extremely slow pace of cultivation.
But he knew even more that in this world where strength reigns supreme, he had no other choice.
The shadows of fists flickered in the dim light, and sweat dripped onto the floor, making a soft sound.
The phantom of the raging bull seemed to roar silently behind him. The boy's slender figure repeatedly challenged the barrier called "Acquired Realm" and the shackles called "Fate" in the small space of the study.
The road ahead is difficult, but we will never give up.
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The wheels creaked monotonously as they rolled over the cobblestones in the morning mist.
Zhang Gu drove the oxcart, carrying Zhang Yuan, and stopped in front of a grand and solemn building in the east of the city.
The black lacquered gate was wide open, with a plaque bearing gold lettering on a black background hanging above it.
Panshi Martial Arts Hall.
Even before entering the building, a smell mixed with the scents of sweat, leather, and faint herbs wafted out from inside.
The faint sounds of shouts and clashing weapons could still be heard.
Zhang Yuan jumped out of the car and calmly surveyed the scene.
The courtyard was extremely spacious, paved with bluestone, and stone locks, wooden stakes, and weapon racks were placed in the four corners.
Dozens of disciples of varying ages were divided into several groups.
Some students were practicing horse stance under the guidance of their coaches, sweating profusely.
Some practiced their punches and kicks in pairs, shouting and yelling.
Several people were even practicing their moves in the open space, wielding wooden knives and guns with impressive skill and agility.
The entire martial arts school is filled with an atmosphere of masculinity, resilience, and rigorous training.
Zhang Gu stepped forward and whispered a few words to the disciple on duty at the door. Soon, a disciple ran quickly towards the main hall.
A moment later, a figure strode out with a powerful stride.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man, nearly eight feet tall, with an unusually large frame, standing there like an iron tower.
He was wearing a faded gray outfit, his muscles bulging and stretching the clothes taut.
He had a square face, dark skin with a bronze sheen, thick, ink-black eyebrows, and a pair of piercing eyes that seemed to see right through people.
The short, stiff stubble under his chin added to his rugged appearance.
His steps were steady, each step seemingly carrying immense force, yet landing silently, demonstrating exquisite control over his strength.
This person is the owner of the Rock Martial Arts Academy.
Zheng Chaoyang.
Zheng Chaoyang's gaze swept over Zhang Gu as if it were a physical object, finally settling on Zhang Yuan.
His gaze was sharp as a knife, carrying a sense of scrutiny and oppression.
"Master, this is Young Master Zhang Qingyang. He has come to pay his respects on the orders of Counselor Chen." Zhang Gu quickly bowed and said respectfully.
"Zhang Qingyang? Zhang Xiaowei's only son?"
"The young master who was slaughtered outside the city yesterday for disaster relief, and killed with a single blow? Was that him?"
"He looks so thin and weak, he doesn't seem to have that kind of strength..."
"Shh, keep your voice down! The curator is watching!"
Zheng Chaoyang's appearance and his attention to Zhang Yuan immediately attracted the attention of many disciples in the academy.
Whispers spread like ripples on water, filled with curiosity, doubt, and inquiry.
Zhang Xiaowei's reputation for loyalty and bravery is known to everyone in Fengming County, and yesterday's legendary sword strike outside the city has made the name "Zhang Qingyang" spread rapidly among the people.
Zhang Yuan remained calm, as if he hadn't heard the surrounding chatter.
He took out Chen Wenyuan's calling card from his pocket and presented it with both hands: "This humble one, Zhang Qingyang, greets Master Zheng. I have come on the orders of my teacher, Counselor Chen. This is my teacher's calling card."
Zheng Chaoyang took the invitation card with his large, fan-like hand. His gaze did not linger on the card; instead, he scrutinized Zhang Yuan more closely.
He frowned slightly, his eyes showing a hint of doubt and a sense of testing.
"Yes, Brother Chen's calling card." Zheng Chaoyang's voice was deep and resonant, like muffled thunder. "You are the orphan of Brother Zhang Zhenshan, and with Brother Chen's introduction, it is only right and proper for my Panshi Martial Arts Academy to accept you."
His tone abruptly shifted, his gaze sharpening, and an invisible aura enveloped Zhang Yuan: "However! When Pan Shi Martial Arts Academy accepts disciples, it prioritizes character and perseverance, but places even greater emphasis on innate martial arts talent!"
"If you are merely riding on your father's glory, but are yourself a mere showpiece, weak and incapable of any real progress, then if I were to take you in, I would truly be disgracing Captain Zhang's illustrious name! And I would be failing Brother Chen's trust!"
Before he could finish speaking, Zheng Chaoyang suddenly raised his hand and grabbed at the weapon rack beside him!
An invisible suction force suddenly erupted!
"Clang!"
A piercing metallic scraping sound rang out.
A long sword, simple and heavy in style, placed on a shelf, seemed to be pulled by an invisible hand, and flew off the shelf in an instant, drawing a cold light, and with a "thud", it crashed heavily onto the bluestone ground three steps in front of Zhang Yuan!
The blade tip was deeply embedded in the crevice of the rock, and the blade itself continued to vibrate and hum.
"Pick up this knife and attack me." Zheng Chaoyang stood with his hands behind his back, his voice cold and carrying an unquestionable command.
"hiss--!"
A collective gasp of astonishment instantly filled the air around them!
"My God! What is the curator doing...?"
"It's 'Rock Solid'! The heavy iron sword that the Gym Leader usually uses!"
"This knife weighs at least thirty pounds! This kid... can he even lift it?"
"Attack the sect leader? The sect leader is a near-Grandmaster! Has he gone mad?"
"I think the owner just doesn't believe he could really kill a cow with one stroke yesterday, and is deliberately testing him!"
"Oh no, this young master is going to make a fool of himself..."
The disciples were filled with surprise and doubt, discussing among themselves, their gazes towards Zhang Yuan filled with sympathy and a sense of watching the spectacle unfold.
In their view, this scene was tantamount to a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
Zhang Gu, standing behind Zhang Yuan, turned deathly pale instantly, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
He hurriedly stepped forward, bowed deeply to Zheng Chaoyang, and pleaded in his voice, "Master Zheng! My young master is still young and frail; how could he possibly wield such a powerful weapon? Let alone help you? This…"
"Master Gu, it's alright." A calm voice interrupted Zhang Gu's plea.
Zhang Yuan stepped forward without hesitation, knelt on one knee, and stretched out his right hand to firmly grasp the cold, heavy hilt of the knife.