Becoming a god starts with one certificate becoming eternal.

Ye Xiao stared at the paper, remaining motionless for a long time.

He first pressed the soles of his feet into the frozen ground. The cracked soles stung painfully, making his teeth ache, but the pain didn't subside.

I pressed down again, and although my knees were still sore, my legs were surprisingly stable. The feeling of weakness I had last night, like I was about to collapse, had mostly subsided.

He then reached out, folded the paper with the number 'nine' written on it, and tucked it into the deepest part of his sleeve.

Nine days.

Ye Xiao slowly exhaled a breath of white air, but his eyes grew even colder.

"Heaven rewards diligence; one proof is eternal..."

Ye Xiao murmured softly.

For ordinary people, even getting started with stance training is incredibly difficult, but as long as he practices diligently, he will definitely reap the rewards.

Others train with excessive force, risking their lives to improve their foundation... They damage their very core, and there's no way to recover. Training too hard can even lead to death. The suffocating feeling of his chest being strangled, the way he stood like that last night, is still fresh in my memory.

But at this moment, my body felt more grounded than ever before: not only was my foundation intact, but it felt as if it had been reinforced with a layer of support.

He leaned against the wall to stand up, his back stiffening, his legs still aching, but no longer weak. He rubbed his frozen hands on his trouser legs, the numbness gradually fading, before pushing open the door and going inside.

The dim oil lamp in the room was swaying violently.

The mother, dozing against the wall, was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. She quickly sat up a little: "Xiao'er?"

"I'm back."

Ye Xiao walked to the bedside, touched Xiao Xue's forehead, and frowned slightly: "It's still hot, but it's more even than last night."

His mother looked at his wrists, which were red from the cold, and her expression changed: "You weren't outside all night, were you? Your body can't take that kind of strain."

"I didn't stay long." Ye Xiao shook his head, keeping the whole night of standing meditation to himself.

"How about we don't go out today?"

The mother said softly, "Something's been off in Silent Alley lately."

"We can't not go."

Ye Xiao shook his head slightly, looked at the sliver of gray light shining through the crack in the door, and said in a deep voice, "The money we have left won't last more than a few days."

He felt a slight twitch in his stomach as he said this.

That wasn't pain; it was hunger that I had long been accustomed to.

He subconsciously pursed his lips, suppressing his reaction and not letting it show on his face, then drank a few sips of cold water.

The next moment, he put on his tattered cotton coat and stretched his aching hands and feet. He was still tired, but there was a sense of calm and solidity in his body, and even the cold didn't feel so biting.

That's what he earned through his hard work.

Before leaving, Xiaoxue groggily opened her eyes and whispered, "Will brother... come back today?"

Her lips trembled slightly as she spoke, like a small flower about to wither in the cold wind.

"Yes." Ye Xiao replied with only one word, but it was as if he had staked his life on it.

The door closed.

The mother stared at the crack in the door, her voice barely audible: "I'm not afraid of hardship, I'm not afraid of the cold, and I'm not afraid of death... I'm just afraid that one day you and Xiaoxue won't be able to hold on."

……

The mornings in the Silent Alley are colder than elsewhere.

From the inner city, the sounds of hammers and morning bells could be faintly heard, but the light here was still trapped in the dust, in the mold, and on the newly hung gray cloths. The gray cloths at the doorways of several houses were tightly bound, and the marks of that "strangulation" were visible from afar.

A soft "knock, knock, knock" sound came from the end of the alley.

A burlap sack swung by, its opening slightly ajar, revealing half a bloodstained sleeve. The sound was quickly swallowed by the gray mist, as if nothing had happened.

On the street not far away.

The lingering smell of cheap liquor mixed with garlic in Zhang Tu's mouth was still there, like a hangover. Yet, he walked steadily without swaying.

He had dark circles under his eyes, but a smile always lingered at the corner of his mouth, a smile as blunt as the back of a knife, painful to behold.

He stopped in front of the fish stall.

The fishmonger instinctively bent down, raising his net bag as if to hand it over or to block it.

Zhang Tu simply raised his hand and gently tapped the edge of the stall with a bamboo stick. The sound was not loud, but it effectively thinned out the surrounding noise.

"Today's figures," he said, looking at the fishmonger in a casual tone, "are a bit low."

The fishmonger's face turned pale, and he repeatedly apologized, "I gave them all, Mr. Zhang, really... really none left."

Zhang Tu smiled faintly, as if to save face for someone: "Don't rush, it'll be hard to calculate if you rush."

He flicked his toe, and the fish basket overturned. Fishy odor mixed with muddy water splashed all over the ground.

The vendor lunged forward to pick it up, but Zhang Tu casually stepped on his outstretched hand... He didn't crush it, he just pressed it down.

"Look."

Zhang Tu looked down at the hand, his tone even carrying a hint of patience, and tapped the bamboo clapper again: "I don't want to touch you either, but if you make things difficult for me... then I can only make things more difficult for you."

The fishmonger trembled in pain but dared not cry out, his forehead almost touching the ground: "I'll fix it! I'll fix it! I'll fix it tonight!"

Zhang Tu then loosened his grip, as if letting go of a worthless life, casually tearing the net bag to shreds and tossing it back into the muddy water, adding nonchalantly:

"It's fine to fix it."

If we can't fix it, then we'll follow the rules.

He held the bamboo clapper between his fingers, turning the pages as if flipping through a book, and then turned and walked forward.

He had only taken two steps when he saw Ye Xiao not far away. Ye Xiao raised his eyelids slightly, as if he had suddenly turned to a familiar page in a story on the street. A smile curled at the corner of his lips, neither dirty nor coarse, yet it sent chills down one's spine.

"Hey, kid from the third alley of Dumb Lane?"

Ye Xiao didn't even lift his eyelids, pretending not to hear, and continued walking forward.

Zhang Tu's voice drifted up from behind, like the final stroke of a pen:

"I have a good memory."

"Nine days left, not a day more."

Ye Xiao's steps remained steady, but he remembered those two threatening words, along with the rhythm of the bamboo clappers, even more clearly in his mind.

Not long after, Lin Yan emerged from behind the cracked wall again.

"Brother Xiao."

He called out softly, as if afraid of waking the wind. His face was even paler than before, and there were thin cracks at the corners of his mouth that hurt when he spoke, yet he still forced a smile, as if to save face.

He usually works odd jobs in workshops and runs errands for street shops when he has free time. He is the most well-informed person in the alley and is also the easiest to be targeted... because he looks the most spineless.

Ye Xiao looked at him, her heart sinking slightly: "How is your mother?"

"He can still breathe."

Lin Yan first tried to sound lighthearted, as if to wish for good luck, then swallowed and lowered his voice: "Last night my fever was so high that my mother thought she was going to die. Luckily, the old lady next door gave us a bowl of herbal soup, which was so bitter it could twist your tongue into a pretzel, but at least it brought the fever down a bit."

He tugged at the hem of his clothes, then suddenly stopped as if remembering something, glancing left and right to make sure there was no tail.

"Brother Xiao, let me say something first." Lin Yan said sincerely, "If you think I'm a chatterbox, just pretend I didn't come... My life isn't worth much, but I want to live a few more days and get kicked a few less times."

The words had barely left his lips when the next sentence struck him like the back of a knife.

"I heard there's a shortage of 'stock' up there."

Lin Yan emphasized the word "goods" very lightly, as if he were talking about the price of rice, but his eyes were hard and focused: "The Qing brothel has already confirmed that they will come down to make their selections."

"They're not here to 'check on people,' they're here to fill in the numbers." He licked his cracked lip, wincing in pain. "They'll meet at the narrow street at the east entrance first; someone's already collecting money and leading the way."

"Take money?" Ye Xiao's brows furrowed.

Lin Yan nodded quickly, explaining the whole story as if reporting an account: "It's not a small amount of money. You know the kind of people who lead the way. They're usually all smiles and nods to everyone, but when it comes to this, they're as tough as nails... because they have a 'list' in their hands. They know better than anyone which family has a girl, how old she is, and what she looks like."

"Those who are targeted by them have nowhere to cry. If they cry loudly, they'll get slapped first, just to keep quiet."

The wind seeped in from the alley, feeling like it was scraping through your bones.

Lin Yan swallowed hard, finally uttering the last thing he wanted to say: "If they pick on our side... Ashuang, she..."

Ye Xiao didn't speak immediately, but pressed the 'nine' card in his sleeve again.

"I see."

He said softly, "It's not that I'm not worried about Ashuang, it's just that I know in my heart that if I'm not capable enough, I can't even protect my own lamp, let alone shield others from the blades that fall on their heads."

In this man-eating alley, if you don't become strong, even "living" is just empty talk to yourself.

……

Smoke rose early from the workers' quarters.

The hammer pounded on the iron billet, each strike muffled and painful. The furnace fire illuminated the frostbitten faces, revealing every crack and fissure clearly.

As usual, Ye Xiao went to the corner first.

An old craftsman with a broken leg sat beside a half-built pillar, his trouser leg hanging below his knee; the whetstone in front of the whetstone was soaking in water, the surface of which was covered with a thin layer of ice.

Ye Xiao put down the several chipped kitchen knives and then broke the layer of ice: "Old craftsman, the water has frozen."

The old craftsman snorted and pressed the back of his knife firmly.

He had just watched Ye Xiao walk from a distance, and his eyelids lifted slightly... His steps were noticeably more steady than yesterday.

"Aren't your legs weak?" the old craftsman suddenly asked.

Ye Xiao paused for a moment: "It's not soft, it's even more stable than yesterday."

He couldn't really pinpoint the difference, but when he took the same step, his knees and ankles felt like they were being supported by an invisible hand, making it much smoother than yesterday.

The sound of sharpening the knife stopped.

The old craftsman raised his eyelids higher, as if trying to discern something: "Say it again."

Ye Xiao had no choice but to repeat, "Even more stable than yesterday."

The old craftsman's eyes sharpened instantly, like the edge of an old knife being revealed: "How long did you stand there last night?"

"Two hours."

The iron knife trembled with a clang on the whetstone. Several people around quietly looked up, and someone muttered, "Bragging doesn't save a fool; who can stand in a stance for that long?"

The old craftsman stared at Ye Xiao for a full three breaths, a cold laugh escaping his lips: "With your foundation? You stood for two hours on your first try? Do you think I've never seen anyone practice standing meditation before?"

Ye Xiao opened his mouth, but could not explain.

The old craftsman put down his knife: "Take a few steps."

Ye Xiao did as instructed.

His steps were heavy, but not faltering.

The old craftsman tapped the back of the knife lightly with his fingertips, as if he were tapping a piece of iron that shouldn't make a sound.

He muttered in a low voice, "Either someone's backing me up... or there's something strange about my body."

These words were so soft, like iron filings under a millstone, that Ye Xiao didn't hear them clearly.

The old craftsman exhaled a breath of stale air and pressed his knife back into the stone: "I've given you the stance training; how you practice it is up to you. If you can hold it, it's because you're lucky; if you can't... don't blame anyone else."

"But you must remember, stance training is about drawing blood into your bones. Without food or medicine, your body can only last for an hour; standing for more than half an incense stick's time is tantamount to suicide."

The sound of sharpening knives resumed, but the old craftsman didn't even glance at Ye Xiao.

"I've seen people stand for the length of an incense stick and then vomit blood on the spot; some stand for an hour and can't get up the next day. Others have pushed themselves to the limit and seemed to be making further progress... but before long, they were completely ruined."

"That person survived."

"But every night, my legs would twitch and I would kneel on the ground, and I couldn't even bear to hear the words 'martial arts practice' anymore."

The old craftsman's words grew even colder: "Don't think that being able to hold on for a few more breaths is a skill... If you hold on too long, you'll be carried out."

As he finished speaking, his eyelids drooped slightly.

What he disliked most was a boy who, even when pushed to the brink, refused to give up and whose eyes still shone with light... It was an eyesore to look at.

Ye Xiao nodded: "I've got it."

He understood that in the Silent Alley, unusual occurrences were often not opportunities, but disasters.

But he didn't expect that even though he had already shortened the actual time, it still attracted attention.

Just then, a shout suddenly erupted from the other end of the ice rink at the workers' dormitory.

"Be careful!"

A stack of freshly fired iron billets slipped on the ice, making a series of clanging sounds as the entire stack tipped over toward the boy beside it. The boy tried to dodge, but slipped and tripped, falling half an inch toward the iron billets instead, his face turning deathly pale instantly.

If it hits solid, death is certain.

Without much thought, Ye Xiao lowered his waist and hips, and landed firmly on his feet.

The upward force he felt from the soles of his feet while practicing standing meditation last night seemed to be instinctively unleashed at this moment.