However, for now, all he could do was let things drag on.

The Flying Horse Thieves were said to have more than one master of Hidden Strength, making them incredibly powerful. Still, bandit forces even stronger than them had been wiped out by the Court before.

Yang Jing reckoned that once the Court had its hands free and truly made up its mind, wiping out the Flying Horse Thieves shouldn’t be difficult.

When the merchant caravan’s carriage arrived at the Liu Family Medical Hall, the hall’s old steward was already waiting at the entrance.

Once the handover was complete, the old steward handed Yang Jing a heavy coin purse. "Young Hero Yang, thank you for your hard work. Here is your payment of ten taels of silver. Please, take it. It’s standard procedure."

Yang Jing smiled and took the coin purse, weighing it in his hand before nodding. "Thank you."

With the mission handover complete, Yang Jing didn’t linger. He bid farewell to the medical hall’s old steward, left with the coin purse in hand, and headed for his small courtyard in Tongyi Square.

As he walked back, Yang Jing mulled over what he had seen and heard during the day, as well as the insights he’d gained from his fight with the two groups of bandits.

Under the cover of night, Yang Jing returned to his small courtyard of green bricks and gray tiles in Tongyi Square. The August evening breeze, still carrying the last of the summer’s heat, made the leaves in the corner of the yard rustle.

Yang Jing rinsed himself off with cold water and, bare-chested, entered the kitchen.

He placed an earthenware pot on the small clay stove, cut the bear meat into large chunks, and stewed it with slices of ginger and angelica root. The BUBBLE BUBBLE of the simmering broth was especially clear in the quiet courtyard.

Once it was cooked, he sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, holding a large, coarse porcelain bowl, and began to eat heartily.

Although the flavor couldn’t compare to the culinary skills of the chefs at Fuman Pavilion, Yang Jing was quite satisfied. At least it was stewed until it was tender, the chunks of meat melting in his mouth. The warm juices slid down his throat, and a familiar warm current soon spread from his Dantian.

This was the nourishing effect of a ferocious beast’s meat.

After downing two pounds of meat, Yang Jing patted his slightly bulging stomach. As he stood up, his joints gave a faint CRACK—a sign that his muscles and bones were being nourished.

These chaotic times, the bandits, the training ground trials... it was all like a whip at Yang Jing’s back, urging him onward. He didn’t dare stop, constantly thinking about his martial arts, about getting stronger.

Fortunately, with his status panel, he could clearly see the results of each training session and track his daily improvements at a glance. This gave him even more motivation to practice his martial arts.

Yang Jing took a deep breath, walked to the center of the courtyard, and settled into a firm horse stance. The force of his Mountain-Shattering Fist swept across the ground, kicking up dust.

He executed the first form, Stone-Splitter, and the edge of his fist cut through the air with a sharp whistle.

By the time he executed the seventh form, Bengyun, the stone roller in the corner of the courtyard actually trembled slightly.

Two hours later, beads of sweat dripped from Yang Jing’s forehead onto the ground, spreading into small, dark patches.

After a short break, Yang Jing switched to practicing Raging Wave Kicks.

As his body moved and shifted, his kicks became a blur of afterimages. The dull THUD of his feet striking the tree trunk startled the roosting night birds, sending them flying from the branches.

He deliberately channeled his Inner Strength to the tips of his toes, each kick secretly matching the rhythm of ’crashing waves against the shore.’

Yang Jing didn’t stop his practice until the moon was high in the sky.

He doused his body with well water, the cold shock washing away the sticky sweat.

Lying on his hard plank bed, Yang Jing slowly closed his eyes. The scene of the training ground trials seemed to appear before him.

...

「Three days later, early in the morning.」

As the morning light crested the memorial arch of Tongyi Square, Yang Jing let out a satisfied burp, left his courtyard, and headed for the Martial Arts Hall in Chengping Square.

The lingering warmth of the medicinal tonic brewed from ginseng slices and astragalus still coated his throat. Combined with the pound or so of tender bear meat he’d eaten, it transformed into a warm current that spread through his limbs, making his steps feel a little lighter.

Along the way, however, the street scene was tinged with a somber mood.

Many refugees were huddled in the corners of walls and under the eaves of buildings. They were all sallow and emaciated, their tattered rags failing to cover their gaunt, bony frames.

And this was considered a district near the core of Yuhe County City. Further in was the Inner City.

If this many refugees had flooded into the area of Tongyi Square and Chengping Square, there must be far more in the outer districts.

The August sun was vicious, so the refugees moved into the shadows, leaning against each other listlessly, their eyes vacant.

’When the weather turns cold, that’s when things will get really bad...’

Yang Jing sighed inwardly and shook his head slightly.

Right now, they could at least survive on the warmth of the sun. But once the cold winds of late autumn began to blow, he feared the streets would be littered with new corpses every day.

As he was walking, a clamor of conversation reached him, tinged with a slight out-of-town accent.

Jintai Prefecture and Caozhou were relatively close, so their accents had some similarities, but the differences were still easy to pick out.

Yang Jing paused and followed the sound with his gaze.

Under a pagoda tree on the street corner, a dozen or so ragged refugees were gathered, all talking at once. Their accents were clearly from the Caozhou area.

He subconsciously slowed his pace, took two steps back and to the side, and hid behind an old elm tree.

Entry-level Martial Artists were far more sharp-eared and keen-eyed than ordinary people, and Yang Jing had now broken through to the level of Hidden Strength. His hearing surpassed that of a normal person. Even from dozens of feet away, their words reached his ears with perfect clarity.

"The Song State soldiers are like madmen. They broke through Qinghe County. On the day the city fell, the fires burned for half the night..."

"Our village is part of Qinghe County. When we heard the commotion, we ran east. Us few were the fast ones. Anyone a step too slow... they’re all gone."

"The Caozhou Army managed to stop them at Yunmeng Mountain, but the casualties were horrific. I heard the bodies of soldiers on the front lines are piled up like mountains."

"My cousin serves in the Caozhou Army. Last time he sent a message, he said their provisions are almost gone. How are they supposed to hold the line with nothing?"

Their words were filled with terror and despair, cutting at Yang Jing’s heart like a dull knife.

His father and uncle were with the Court’s army, escorting provisions to the Caozhou front. Qinghe County, Yunmeng Mountain... Yang Jing had learned about these places during his recent inquiries. They were in the most intense, hellish part of the Caozhou war.

’I hope Father and Uncle aren’t near Qinghe County or Yunmeng Mountain...’ Yang Jing clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

He stood behind the tree, gazing at the hunched backs of the Caozhou refugees, motionless for a long time. His heart was heavy and anxious.

After a moment, he took a deep breath, relaxed his fists, and prepared to continue toward the Martial Arts Hall.

Just as Yang Jing’s gaze moved away from the group of talking Caozhou refugees, the corner of his eye caught a few men gathered in the shadows of a street corner.

They wore short coats, with bulges at their waists. Their eyes darted about restlessly, occasionally flicking over passersby. They had that mix of street-smart slickness and ruthlessness unique to gang members.

Having been forced to deal with gangs many times over the past few months, Yang Jing had developed a deep understanding of the various gangs, big and small, in Yuhe County. He could size up these low-level thugs at a glance.

Yang Jing noticed the men seemed to have made a decision. He immediately halted and shrank back against the wall, intending to see what they were up to. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

One of them, a man in a satin short shirt who looked like the leader, walked straight toward a jewelry shop on the side of the street.

As the man lifted the door curtain and went inside, Yang Jing vaguely saw a lavishly dressed woman in the shop, holding two pearl hairpins up to her temples to see how they looked.

A moment later, a sharp SMACK echoed from inside the shop, followed by a man’s angry roar. "I told you not to buy it, didn’t you hear me? You think we’re made of money?"

The shout was loud enough that passersby on the street turned to look.

Yang Jing raised an eyebrow in surprise. He then saw the man in the satin short shirt emerge from the shop, clutching the two hairpins, an angry look still on his face. The hairpins shimmered with a brilliant luster, clearly quite valuable.

Inside the shop, the beautifully dressed woman held a hand to her slightly red and swollen cheek, stunned. The sudden turn of events had left her momentarily unable to react.

But soon, she looked down at her empty hands, and a cry rang out from the shop. "Robbery! Someone’s stealing!"

This was followed by the flustered voices of the shop boy and a maid. "Ma’am, wasn’t that your husband? How..."

"Husband? What husband? Pah! He’s not my husband! I don’t know him!" the woman’s voice was frantic and furious.

Immediately after, all hell broke loose inside the shop. Several attendants armed with clubs rushed out, but the man in the satin short shirt was already long gone.