"Senior Brother, next time for sure. My arm is still injured," Liu Maolin said, hastily waving his hand.

Xu Hong couldn’t help but sigh again.

「...」

The night in the inner courtyard was exceptionally quiet, with only the rustling of wind through the banana leaves.

Yang Jing stood outside the study, the blue brick floor cool with the evening dew. He composed himself, cupped his fists, and announced in a clear voice, "Disciple Yang Jing pays his respects to Master."

"Come in." Sun Yong’s steady voice came from within the study, carrying an almost imperceptible warmth.

Yang Jing pushed the door open and entered, the wooden door letting out a faint CREAK.

An oil lamp was lit in the study. Its dim yellow halo enveloped the bookshelves that lined the walls, and the air was filled with the faint scent of ink and old paper.

Sun Yong sat in a Grandmaster’s Chair by the window, holding a fist manual. Seeing Yang Jing enter, he closed the manual and placed it on the desk.

"Sit." Sun Yong pointed to the wooden stool opposite him.

Yang Jing did as he was told, sitting with his back ramrod straight, quietly waiting for his master to question him.

Sun Yong’s gaze fell upon him, sizing him up for a moment. Seeing that although his face showed fatigue, his eyes were still bright, he began, "Tell me about your fight with Shen Lie today. Recount it in detail, and don’t omit any part of your exchange."

Yang Jing started from the moment they faced each other on the stage, describing in detail the ferocity of the Mountain-Breaking Fist, his own response with the Mountain-Shattering Fist, and how he used the speed of his Raging Wave Kicks to drain his opponent’s Inner Strength, right up to the moment Shen Lie conceded defeat.

His account was clear and methodical. He described with perfect clarity even the changes in Shen Lie’s Mountain-Breaking Fist patterns and the exact moment he sensed his opponent’s Inner Strength was failing.

Sun Yong listened quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the desktop, sometimes nodding, sometimes frowning.

When Yang Jing finished, Sun Yong spoke slowly. "Shen Lie’s latent power in his Mountain-Breaking Fist is already as solid as iron. That you could avoid the brunt of his attacks and use clever tactics to wear him down shows your timing is very precise. You didn’t just rely on brute force, which is very good."

He paused, then changed the subject. "You mentioned before that you used a type of Body Technique. What skill is it? What’s it called?"

"Master, the technique is called *Raging Wave Kicks*," Yang Jing answered without the slightest hesitation.

’On one hand, he trusted his master. After all, the Martial Arts Hall didn’t forbid its disciples from practicing other martial arts.’

’On the other hand, Yang Jing also wanted to confirm with his master whether this martial art was truly safe to practice.’

"Raging Wave Kicks?" Sun Yong’s brow furrowed slightly. He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I’ve been in Yuhe County for over thirty years. I’ve heard of at least eighty different fist and leg techniques, if not a hundred, but I’ve never heard of this one. It probably has no connection to the major families or Martial Arts Halls of Yuhe County."

After a pause, he looked at Yang Jing and asked, "Does the secret manual for this technique mention any taboos? Or is it tied to some other power?"

Yang Jing’s heart stirred. Knowing his master was worried he might get caught up in unnecessary trouble, he quickly replied, "I came across the manual for this leg technique by chance. It doesn’t mention any faction it belongs to, and I haven’t noticed anything wrong with it in my practice. There are no special taboos, either."

Only then did Sun Yong seem relieved. He nodded. "In that case, continue practicing it diligently. In the future, if you have any difficulties with *Raging Wave Kicks*, don’t hide them. Feel free to come and ask me. Although I specialize in powerful fist arts, I still have some understanding of the principles behind body techniques and footwork."

A warmth spread through Yang Jing’s heart. He stood, cupped his fists, and said sincerely, "Thank you, Master. I will remember."

Sun Yong waved his hand, gesturing for him to sit down. His gaze remained on Yang Jing, now filled with a certain expectation. "The final ranking battles are tomorrow. The higher your rank, the greater your chance of passing the training ground trials. If you have the opportunity, you must strive for a high rank. Do not slack off."

"Yes, I understand," Yang Jing said, nodding gravely.

The halo of the oil lamp flickered between them, casting the shadows of master and disciple onto the wall, creating an atmosphere of peace and solemnity.

Sun Yong took a sip of tea. Through the swirling steam, he looked at Yang Jing, his tone carrying an unquestionable gravity. "You have a steady temperament, which puts me at ease. However, I must give you a few words of advice. Your main focus must remain the Mountain-Shattering Fist. That technique is powerful and solid; it will build you a strong foundation. Other martial arts are, at best, icing on the cake. You mustn’t put the cart before the horse."

He set down his teacup, his knuckles tapping lightly on the desk. "In the end, what a Martial Artist relies on is the depth of their primary Cultivation Technique—in other words, their own level of attainment. Your qi and blood are vigorous right now, and you are exceptionally talented. You have a real chance of breaking through to the Transformation Realm. This is the perfect time to polish your Mountain-Shattering Fist. After you turn thirty, or thirty-five, your qi and blood will inevitably begin to decline. It won’t be too late then to devote your energy to supplementary martial arts to improve your strength in other ways."

Yang Jing bowed and replied, "I understand. I will not let other techniques interfere with my practice of the Mountain-Shattering Fist."

Sun Yong smiled faintly and nodded in satisfaction.

As he spoke, the door curtain was gently lifted, and Sun Ningxiang walked in carrying a tray. On it was a celadon teapot, with steam wisping from its spout.

She wore a moon-white tunic, a simple pearl flower pinned by her temple. Seeing Yang Jing, she nodded slightly and greeted him with a soft smile before gently refilling Sun Yong’s teacup.

"Father, I just brewed some Biluochun. Please have a taste." Sun Ningxiang’s voice was gentle. She then turned to Yang Jing. "Junior Brother Yang, would you like a cup as well?"

Before Yang Jing could speak, Sun Yong smiled and said, "Brew a pot for him, too. He fought one battle after another today. It’s been a long day for him. Some hot tea will help him recover."

Yang Jing quickly waved his hands. "Thank you for your kindness, Master, Senior Sister, but I’m not thirsty."

’The change in his master’s attitude actually made him feel a little uncomfortable.’

’In the past, his master had valued him, but he had never been so considerate. That last comment, "some hot tea will help him recover," sounded like an elder doting on a junior, leaving him momentarily unsure how to respond.’

Sun Yong saw this and nodded to himself.

’This disciple of mine is a bit too reserved,’ he thought. ’I’ll have to help him loosen up over time.’

He took a sip of tea and looked at Sun Ningxiang. "This junior brother of yours is a natural at his fist techniques, but his personality is too withdrawn. Ning Xiang, look after him more in the future. He’s young and can be a bit inflexible at times."

Sun Ningxiang replied, "I know, Father. But I think our junior brother is wonderful. His temperament is so steady."

As she spoke, she turned to boil water on a small stove nearby. The flames licked at the bottom of the kettle, making a soft CRACKLING sound.

Yang Jing stood to the side, watching Sun Yong slowly flip through the fist manual on the desk and listening to the delicate clinking of Sun Ningxiang preparing the tea set. He suddenly felt the atmosphere in the study was completely different.

It lacked its usual solemn, oppressive air. Instead, it felt like an afternoon in an ordinary family home, filled with an indescribable warmth.

Sun Yong flipped to a page, looked up at Yang Jing, and beckoned him over. "Jing’Er, come take a look. This move, ’Mountain-Shattering Stone-Splitting’—did you ever fully grasp the trick to exerting its force?"

Yang Jing hurried over. Sun Yong pointed to a diagram in the manual, his finger tapping heavily on the four words for ’uniting waist and stance.’ "I remember your old habit. You always try to use the strength of your arms, but you forget that the root of the Mountain-Shattering Fist is in the legs, and its power comes from the waist. Come, try it again now. Sink the power down into your waist..."

The two of them then stood up and began an impromptu lesson right there in the room.

Sun Yong personally corrected Yang Jing’s posture for exerting force. With his palm on the small of Yang Jing’s back, he guided him bit by bit, helping him feel the subtle power generated from his waist and abdomen.

Yang Jing felt a gentle yet firm force transmit from the small of his back, and his previously stiff movements instantly became much smoother. Shock and delight filled him, and his gaze toward Sun Yong held an even more genuine admiration.

Sun Ningxiang brought over the freshly brewed tea. Seeing them so absorbed in their practice, she placed a cup on the desk near Yang Jing and said softly, "You should rest for a bit before practicing more. The tea won’t taste as good if it gets cold."

Yang Jing snapped back to his senses. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his temples, but his entire body felt wonderfully refreshed.

He looked at the steaming cup of tea on the desk, then at the profile of Sun Yong, who was still explaining with great focus. He suddenly understood. His master wasn’t just teaching him a fist technique; he was also closing the distance between them, bit by bit.

The reservation and discomfort he had felt earlier had now mostly vanished.

Yang Jing couldn’t help but straighten his posture, a warmth spreading through his chest.