"Skin toughening relies on medicinal power. You also have to endure pain and hardship to activate the medicine’s effects and strengthen your skin."

This was what Yuan Cheng had told Zhao Lin, and it was the truth.

Slapping his palms into scorching-hot iron sand and being beaten all over with sandbags was an extremely painful process.

But Zhao Lin’s physical resilience was far greater than before, and with his resolute determination to master martial arts, he gritted his teeth and endured.

After just one day, his body was covered in bruises, and in many places, his skin had even peeled away to the flesh. But by the next day, new skin had already grown back.

After a dozen or so days, all the skin on his body had been replaced. What surprised him was that the new skin was a bit lighter in color.

His palms, in particular, now had a faint, pearly-white sheen—not the rough, blackened hands he had imagined would come from practicing the Iron Sand Palm.

Zhao Lin had grown a few more centimeters, now approaching one-point-eight meters tall, and his strength continued to increase slowly but steadily.

Every time he finished a meal, the square on the Spirit Beast Scroll that held the bear would generate a new white mist. When released, this mist would replenish his stamina and grant him new strength.

Zhao Lin tested it when no one was looking and found he could easily lift the stone urn that held two iron locks.

The stone urn weighed one hundred jin, and each lock weighed two hundred jin, for a total of five hundred jin.

’If I’m not mistaken, that lift already surpasses the clean and jerk world record for the seventy-kilogram class from my past life... and by a significant margin.’

Zhao Lin figured that in terms of raw strength alone, he probably had no match in the entire Power Realm. ’As long as I master my Fist Skill, I won’t have to fear anyone in a real fight.’

"Senior Brother, I have some spare time every day after my skin-toughening training. Could you teach me a Fist Skill?"

Yuan Cheng laughed. "Sure. Most people are half-dead when they start skin toughening. Since you have energy to spare, it’s no problem at all."

He walked into an open area, assuming the opening stance of the Six Harmonies Fist. "I’ll teach you the moves," he said. "For now, just focus on memorizing them by rote."

"Once you can execute any move without hesitation the moment I call out its name, I’ll start breaking them down and explaining the details of each one."

Zhao Lin understood the principle: first master the forms, then learn how to apply them.

...

"Brother, I’m thinking of going into the city tomorrow to sell our wares. What do you think?"

That evening at dinner, his older brother, Zhao Shan, brought up the matter they had discussed with Zhao Lin before.

It had been a full month since Zhao Shan returned home, so he no longer had to pretend to be sick and was free to go out.

He had spent the entire time weaving bamboo, and now the courtyard was piled so high with baskets and hampers that there was barely any room to stand.

Zhao Lin said, "That’s a good idea. There’s a general market in West City. I’ve been there before; it’s a suitable place to set up a stall."

Right now, the family only had expenses and no income. If his brother could make some money from this, it would be a welcome, if small, supplement.

The next day, the two brothers took their bamboo wares to the general market.

Zhao Lin found the market manager and asked about the fees. A stall cost three copper coins per day, or fifty copper coins for a full month.

He paid for a month upfront. After helping his brother set up the stall, he left for the Liuhe Sect to train.

When Zhao Lin returned to the market that evening, he saw his brother staring blankly at their empty stall. He smiled. "Business must have been great. All sold out?"

An embarrassed look crossed Zhao Shan’s face. "Business was... alright," he stammered.

Seeing his expression, Zhao Lin knew something was wrong. "What happened? Did someone give you trouble?"

Zhao Shan sighed and explained what had happened.

It turned out that Zhao Shan’s wares were well-made, practical, and cheap, so he had already sold seven or eight pieces by noon.

But in the afternoon, a group of men dressed in black came through the market, collecting money from every stall.

Zhao Shan learned from a neighboring vendor that the men were from the White Horse Gang. Apparently, to do business there, you had to pay not only the official government fee but also a protection fee to the gang.

"How much is the protection fee?"

"The same as the stall fee—fifty copper coins," Zhao Shan replied.

Zhao Shan figured that the dozen or so copper coins he’d earned wouldn’t even cover the fee. Besides, he couldn’t bear to just hand it over. So, before the men from the White Horse Gang reached his stall, he abandoned it and slipped out the back.

He waited until he saw the White Horse Gang leave from a distance, then cautiously returned to his stall, only to find that they had taken everything.

"So the gang collecting the money is called the White Horse Gang?" Zhao Lin asked after his brother finished.

"That’s right. I hear they’re a major gang."

Zhao Shan looked at his younger brother, worried. "Don’t you go picking a fight with them. We can just pay them tomorrow if we have to. I did the math—we can still make a profit."

Zhao Lin first shook his head, then nodded. "Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it tomorrow."

Having worked at the docks, he had a decent understanding of the power dynamics in the county.

Gangs were concentrated in the East and North Cities. West City and South City, on the other hand, were the domain of the government and the martial sects. Gang presence there was weak, with only minor outfits trying to scrape by.

’Of course, even a small gang isn’t something I can handle on my own.’

’But now I’m an apprentice of the Liuhe Sect. I can probably get away with borrowing their name for a bit of intimidation.’

’Yuan Cheng did warn me when I joined not to cause trouble, saying the sect wouldn’t get involved if I did. But this training uniform itself is a symbol of the Liuhe Sect.’

’If they don’t buy it, I’ll just have to make a tactical retreat for now...’

The Liuhe Sect had one rest day every five days. The following day happened to be a rest day, so Zhao Lin accompanied his brother to the market once more.

He did nothing but wait at the stall for the members of the White Horse Gang to show up.

Around noon, a commotion erupted in the market as a skinny, goateed man led a group of men in black inside.

"Master Chen, I wasn’t here the day before yesterday. Let me pay you this month’s protection fee now..."

The goateed man strolled past the stalls with his hands clasped behind his back, and all the vendors who had missed their payments before eagerly paid up with ingratiating smiles.

"Excuse me, might this fine gentleman be a distinguished disciple of the Liuhe Sect?"

The goateed man had spotted Zhao Lin from the start, but he pretended not to notice until he was right in front of the stall, at which point he asked with feigned surprise.

Zhao Lin replied calmly, "I wouldn’t call myself distinguished, but I do study martial arts at the Liuhe Sect."

"And this is...?" the goateed man asked, glancing at Zhao Shan.

"He’s my older brother," Zhao Lin said, his voice low. "He was selling here the day before yesterday. He didn’t have money for the protection fee, so all his wares were confiscated."

"Is that so?"

The goateed man put on a show of anger, glaring at his men. "You confiscated his wares?" he demanded.

His men exchanged glances. One of them spoke up. "We saw someone selling things at this stall from a distance, but he was gone by the time we got here, so we confiscated the goods."

"You fools!" the goateed man roared. "How could you do such a thing? Give him back his property, now!"

"The wares... they’ve already been distributed," the same underling stammered.

"Oh, dear. Now what are we to do?" the goateed man said to Zhao Lin with an apologetic air.

"Yes, what are we to do?"

Zhao Lin remained perfectly composed as he tossed the problem right back at him.

’It’s not that I care about a few baskets. It’s that these gangsters are the worst kind of bullies—they prey on the weak and fear the strong. I have to stand my ground to make them back off. Otherwise, they’ll just take advantage.’

"My men acted without thinking," the goateed man said, immediately offering a solution. "How about we compensate you for the value of the goods?"

"There’s no need for that. A few bamboo baskets aren’t worth much money," Zhao Shan cut in.

The goateed man acted as if he hadn’t heard a word. He pulled a string of copper coins from his robe. "A small token of our apology. Please, take it."

Zhao Lin shot his brother a meaningful look. Mustering his courage, Zhao Shan accepted the coins.