With his master’s detailed pointers fresh in his mind, Lin Yue’s confidence soared, and he even felt a little excited for his afternoon match against Ye Canglan.

The private room fell silent for a moment. Only then did someone cautiously pick up their chopsticks, but no one dared to speak loudly anymore.

The other disciples couldn’t help but feel a little wistful. ’We’re all disciples, yet Master is so dedicated to Lin Yue that he’s giving him pointers even during a meal. It’s hard not to be jealous of that kind of treatment.’

Yang Jing silently drank his Spirit Fish Soup, committing the name "Ye Canglan" to memory. He was also beginning to understand the immense weight of Sun Yong’s expectations for Lin Yue. ’Perhaps in Master’s eyes,’ he thought, ’all the other disciples from the Martial Arts Hall are just background props for Lin Yue in this tournament.’

Sun Yong picked up a piece of Spirit Fish with his chopsticks and chewed it slowly. His gaze seemed to rest on the dishes, but his mind had already drifted to the tournament’s fighting ring.

So far, the disciples of Sun’s Martial Arts Hall had put on a solid performance. All six Dark Energy disciples had advanced, and several Mingjin Disciples had even made it to the third round. This was a pretty good result.

But he knew this was merely the calm before the storm.

The two morning rounds, to be frank, were just a preliminary screening. The opponents had been mostly mediocre. The real battles would be the three rounds in the afternoon.

The quarterfinals, the semifinals, and the final match to determine the champion of the ring—every round was a crucial contest.

To take the top spot, one had to defeat every other Martial Artist in their ring. The competition was full of hidden experts; no one could be completely certain of victory.

’Although Xu Hong is at the Peak of Dark Energy, he lacks a relentless, sharp edge. He’s suffered repeated defeats over the years, and I’m afraid this year won’t be any different.’

’Qi Yun’s Body Technique is nimble, but her Cultivation is a little weak. She stands little chance against a truly powerful opponent.’

’As for the other Dark Energy disciples, their foundations are shallow or their techniques are too simple. It would be a fluke if they lasted another round or two. They have virtually no hope of winning the top spot.’

After considering everyone, he realized that in the entire Martial Arts Hall, only Lin Yue gave him any hope.

’Lin Yue’s talent is truly exceptional. His innate aptitude is top-tier, and his understanding of the Mountain-Shattering Fist far surpasses his peers. To have already reached the threshold of the Peak of Dark Energy at such a young age... His potential is the greatest I’ve seen in a disciple in years.’

’True, his temperament is still a bit immature. He can be impatient and expose flaws, and he’s prone to a touch of arrogance after a few wins, but those are things that can be smoothed out over time.’

’The most crucial thing now is to get past this hurdle. If he can just take first place in the third ring and advance to the final competition tomorrow, he has a very good chance of passing this year’s tournament trials!’

How many years has it been since Sun’s Martial Arts Hall last had a disciple pass the tournament trials?

The outside gossip buzzed like flies, saying he, Sun Yong, couldn’t teach real skills, that the Martial Arts Hall’s best days were long gone.

He had been bottling up his frustration, waiting for so many years, and he had finally found a promising talent like Lin Yue.

’You have to stay steady...’

Sun Yong chanted inwardly, his grip on his chopsticks tightening slightly.

’As long as Lin Yue can pull through, win that championship, and pass tomorrow’s trials, he will carve a path forward for Sun’s Martial Arts Hall and silence all the doubters for good.’

He glanced at Lin Yue, who had his head down, drinking his soup. A complex mix of hope and expectation flickered in his eyes.

...

In stark contrast to the lively, sumptuous feast at Ju Xian Pavilion, a completely different scene was unfolding in a narrow alley just two streets away.

The alley was narrow, flanked by mottled gray walls with junk piled in the corners. The overhanging eaves blocked most of the afternoon sun, casting only scattered patches of light on the ground.

Deeper in the alley, a few refugees in tattered clothes huddled in a corner, their numb eyes watching the people who passed by. The occasional offering of cold leftovers from a small, nearby restaurant would spark a frantic scramble among them.

Meanwhile, a slightly wider area in the middle of the alley was occupied by more than twenty men and women in coarse-spun clothes.

Most of them had dark, weathered skin and calloused hands. Their trouser cuffs were still dotted with mud. They were the villagers from Yang Family Village.

It was the midday break, and the tournament grounds had long since gone quiet. With nowhere else to go, the group gathered here, waiting for Yang An to bring them their meal.

Yang the Third put his hands on his hips, craning his neck to look toward the alley entrance. He drew back, rubbing his hands. "What’s takin’ that kid Yang An so long? It’s already past noon."

"What’s the rush?" a good-natured man beside him said, offering a water flask. "He’s gotta get food for all of us. Yang An must be swamped; it’s only natural he’s a bit late. Besides, we’re just waitin’ around anyway. A little longer won’t hurt."

Among the crowd, Elder Yang Shouzhuo leaned on a jujube wood cane, his back ramrod straight.

He wasn’t looking around anxiously like the others. He simply sat on a clean stone slab, enjoying the sun with his eyes narrowed, occasionally prodding the small pebbles at his feet with the tip of his cane.

Nearby, Liu Cui Ling and Madam Xue were talking, though Madam Xue couldn’t stop her gaze from darting toward the alley’s entrance.

A few half-grown children huddled among the adults. They had been looking around curiously at first, but their energy had since flagged. A couple of them, leaning against the base of the wall, had started to doze off, only to be gently nudged awake by an adult. "Don’t sleep. Once you eat, you’ll have the energy to watch the afternoon matches. People in the city say the afternoon part of the tournament is the most exciting."

They couldn’t enter the tournament grounds, so they had to watch the matches from outside, peering through the wooden railings.

Even though they were too far away to see clearly, they could still make out the general action. At the very least, they could tell who won and who lost, and they found it fascinating all the same.

The alley was filled with the mixed smell of sweat and earth, a stark and jarring contrast to the aroma of roasting meat drifting from the nearby restaurant.

Just when everyone’s eyes were growing sore from watching, a familiar figure finally appeared at the mouth of the alley.

"It’s Yang An!" Yang the Third, sharp-eyed as ever, was the first to cry out.

At his words, the other villagers’ spirits lifted, and they all surged toward the entrance of the alley.

Yang An had a large, bulging pack slung over his shoulder. His forehead was beaded with sweat that trickled down his cheeks, soaking the collar of his coarse, short tunic.

He hurried over, and upon seeing his fellow villagers approaching, he broke into a wide grin that showed his white teeth. "Uncles, Aunts," he said, slightly out of breath, "I’m here."

With that, he shrugged the pack from his shoulder and set it on the ground.

The pack was made of coarse burlap, its corners worn shiny from use. When he untied the hemp rope, the contents were revealed: it was filled to the brim with big, fluffy, white steamed buns!

Each bun was plump and fluffy, giving off the faint, sweet scent of wheat.

The villagers’ eyes went wide. Many of them swallowed hard, the sound of their gulping barely audible.

They spent their lives toiling in the fields, and their daily meals were usually nothing more than coarse corn buns with wild vegetables. Their palates were so accustomed to blandness. White-flour buns were a rare delicacy, something they could only afford to buy during festivals as a special treat for the elders and children.

Seeing so many white buns now... forget eating them, the mere sight was enough to fill their hearts with a sense of comfort and security.

"Heavens above, look at all these white-flour buns!" a man couldn’t help but breathe, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Madam Xue came forward and wiped the sweat from Yang An’s brow. "Why did you buy so many?" she chided gently. "This must have cost a fortune!"

Yang An chuckled and glanced over at Yang Shouzhuo, who was still seated on the stone slab. "Grandpa told me to. He said since everyone came all this way to support Brother Jing, he couldn’t let you all go hungry. He said these buns are nothing."

Only then did the crowd understand, and all eyes turned toward Yang Shouzhuo.

The old man remained seated, merely lifting his chin a fraction. "We’re all neighbors from the same village," he said with a soft chuckle. "Since you all made the journey, I couldn’t have you waiting on an empty stomach. Go on, rest and eat. You’ll need your strength to watch Jing’Er compete this afternoon."

...

PS:

Hey everyone, a quick question. I’ve seen some comments saying the Chapters are a bit "watery" (full of filler). But when I’m writing and really get immersed, I just want to add more detail—fleshing out the world-building, the overall setting, character arcs, and their inner thoughts to make them feel more complete.

If you all think it’s too padded, I’ll try to trim things down from now on. Alternatively, I can go back to my old schedule of one 4,000-word Chapter per day, with an occasional bonus Chapter, so the total word count would still be substantial.

Or I could try my best to be more concise while maintaining the same update frequency, but hitting 12,000 words a day is really difficult. This author will do his best!

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