Night had completely fallen.
In Chengping Square, the lanterns in front of Sun's Martial Arts Hall were lit one after another.
As Yang Jing finished his practice, his knuckles were still red, and steam billowed from his body.
He gave himself a quick wipe-down, then picked up his old cloth bag and hurried toward Datong Square.
Having bought a new courtyard, Yang Jing decided to move in that very night.
Fortunately, he didn't own much. On his first trip, he carried his bedding and clothes; on the second, he shouldered his clay pot and the hemp sack containing his valuables. His steps were as light as the wind.
The journey from Datong Square to his new courtyard in Tongyi Square took only thirty minutes. Yang Jing made two trips back and forth, completing the move in less than two hours.
After turning in the key for his old room and getting everything tidied up, he felt even lighter of heart.
In Tongyi Square, Yang Jing tidied up his new room. He kept the hemp sack with his valuables stuffed under the bed. There wasn't much else to clean. The courtyard had been continuously occupied and well-maintained before; it had only been vacant for the past month, gathering a thin layer of dust.
Once he was settled in, Yang Jing began to stew some meat.
The kitchen in the new courtyard wasn't large, but it was far more spacious than cooking meat in a clay pot in the corner of his old room.
Looking around his new home, Yang Jing was exceptionally pleased; every little thing about it seemed perfect.
After giving the kitchen a quick tidying up, Yang Jing started a fire. He cut the remaining tiger meat into chunks, tossed them into the clay pot, added fresh water and slices of ginger, then covered it to simmer slowly.
Before long, a rich, meaty aroma filled the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the courtyard's grass and trees. It was a far cry from hunching over to cook in his cramped old room, and the experience held a new, comfortable warmth born of freedom.
Once the meat was stewed until it was fall-apart tender, he ladled out a large bowl, sat on a small stool in the kitchen, and devoured it.
The broth seeped between the fibers of the tiger meat. A warm current slid down his throat and spread slowly through his belly, suffusing his entire body with a feeling of deep comfort.
Yang Jing ate with gusto, finishing every last drop of broth. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if the firewood at his new home was simply better, but he felt this tiger meat was twice as delicious as usual.
After cleaning up his bowl, Yang Jing went out and stood in the courtyard.
Moonlight spilled onto the bluestone pavers as the shadow of an old locust tree lay silently across them. From beyond the wall, he could hear the gentle babbling of a stream.
He stretched, his joints letting out a series of soft pops. He looked at everything around him: the spacious courtyard, the side rooms, the kitchen, the main house, the flowerpots, the old locust tree... A sense of security and contentment washed over him.
From this day forward, this place was his domain.
No longer would he have to be cooped up in a tiny room to cook his meals and practice his martial arts.
"That tiger meat has me fired up! Time to get back to training!"
Yang Jing couldn't wait to practice his fist techniques in this spacious courtyard, which he had all to himself.
The courtyard wasn't huge, but in Yang Jing's eyes, it was plenty spacious. As long as there was enough room for his martial arts practice, it was perfect.
The moonlight cascaded down, perfectly illuminating an open space in the center of the yard.
Yang Jing planted his feet, took a deep breath to calm his excited heart, and smoothly transitioned into the opening stance of the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
The warm current generated by the tiger meat flowed through his meridians. With the rise and fall of his fists, that warmth seemed to ignite, surging from his waist to his shoulders and out through his fists. Every punch he threw whistled through the air, imbued with a ferocity greater than ever before.
By the time he finished one full set, beads of sweat had formed on Yang Jing's temples, yet his entire body felt invigorated, as if he had limitless energy.
After briefly regulating his breathing, he shifted his stance, preparing to practice the "Surging Waves Kick" that he had just started to work on.
The training method for the Surging Waves Kick flowed through his mind.
With more than half a year of martial arts experience under his belt, Yang Jing already had some ideas on how to train in the Surging Waves Kick, even without a master's guidance.
At first, his leg lifts were stiff and his ankle rotations lacked flexibility. The force of his kicks was scattered, not focused.
But the solid foundation he'd built with the Mountain-Shattering Fist now became apparent. The coordination between his waist and legs and the fluid generation of force were already etched into his muscle memory.
In just over two hours, Yang Jing began to get the hang of it.
The motions of raising his knee, turning his hip, and swinging his leg grew increasingly fluid. The whistle of air from the tip of his foot grew stronger. Though he was far from proficient, his movements were already beginning to carry a hint of the swiftness implied by "Surging Waves."
Under the moonlight, Yang Jing's form cast a dancing shadow on the courtyard wall. His leg technique progressed from clumsy to competent, each kick growing steadier and faster than the one before.
The more Yang Jing practiced, the more engrossed he became. He could feel the warm current in his body harmonizing with the leg technique, lending his movements an agility they hadn't possessed before.
He continued practicing late into the night before finally stopping, feeling thoroughly exhilarated.
Practicing in his cramped room at night in the past could never compare to this exhilarating freedom.
As he rested, Yang Jing focused his will.
A moment later, a panel materialized out of thin air before his eyes—
[Mountain-Shattering Fist: Minor Accomplishment (393/500)]
[Surging Waves Kick: Initiate (2/200)]
Now that Yang Jing had officially started training in the Surging Waves Kick, its progress had appeared on the panel as well.
Yang Jing looked at the two martial arts on the panel, a smile touching his lips.
'With a steady supply of ferocious beast meat, my training speed has increased significantly. At this rate, I should be able to break through to the Anjin realm within a month,' Yang Jing thought to himself.
'If word of this got out, no one would believe it.'
'The bottleneck between the Mingjin and Anjin realms is immense.'
'In the decades since Sun's Martial Arts Hall was founded, it has produced plenty of Mingjin Disciples, but Anjin disciples have been few and far between.'
'Batch after batch of Registered Disciples pour into the Martial Arts Hall, only to leave dejectedly later on. A few might get lucky and break through to the Mingjin realm, but Anjin has been an insurmountable barrier for most. Right now, there are only five Anjin disciples left in the hall, and that includes Lin Yue.'
'Who knows how many people have been stumped by that bottleneck, trapped for their entire lives, their journey on the Martial Dao coming to a dead end.'