Breaking Limits in Martial Arts: Grinding Your Way to Becoming a Martial Saint in a Chaotic Era

Xu Qing picked up the two letters and glanced at them.

One letter was written neatly, the other was written hastily; both were recommendation letters for disciples to take up temporary positions in the government office.

"To be honest," Officer Qi leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands, "the letters from Benlei Martial Arts School and Changfeng Martial Arts School arrived yesterday. Now, all three disciples from your three schools need to come and take up positions. But right now, there's only one position left to fill."

He paused, exhaled, and added, "You don't know, we may look powerful, but we can't afford to offend either side."

He raised his eyelids and glanced at Xu Qing, then gave a wry smile: "The three masters are all experts in the Transformation Realm; they are the pillars of our Qinghe County. Even the county magistrate and the county assistant have to give them some face. How dare I, a mere constable, make such a decision?"

Xu Qing remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"So I asked my superiors for their instructions." Constable Qi lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly. "This morning, I received a message from above. They want the disciples recommended by the martial arts school to have a competition. Whoever wins will get this position."

He leaned back, the chair making a soft creak. "I've already sent someone to inform those two families; they'll be here in a little while."

He looked up at Xu Qing, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a hint of probing in his expression: "If you want to take this position, you'll have to beat both of them."

"Okay." Xu Qing only uttered one word.

Officer Qi was taken aback, clearly not expecting him to agree so readily. He didn't know where Xu Qing got his confidence from.

He sized up the young man before him. He was sixteen or seventeen years old, and while not short, his physique was hardly considered robust for a martial artist. And the Zhao Family Martial Arts School, if not the worst of the six martial arts schools in the city, was certainly among the lowest tier.

In his memory, the disciples taught by the Zhao family martial arts school were a step weaker than those from the other two schools.

He also knew that Benlei Martial Arts School and Zhao Family Martial Arts School had a deep-seated grudge. It was an unbreakable feud. If a fight broke out later, the disciples of Changfeng Martial Arts School would be alright, but the disciples of Benlei Martial Arts School would definitely not hold back and wouldn't rest until they had beaten Xu Qing down.

Officer Qi glanced at Xu Qing again and saw that he remained calm and composed, showing neither nervousness nor a desire to show off, just standing there quietly.

He couldn't quite figure out this young man. He didn't know if he was just putting on an act or if he was genuinely confident.

He suddenly chuckled, a short laugh that sounded like a dry cough: "You should know that your master and Master Yu don't get along, right?"

"I know," Xu Qing nodded.

Chen Wang had told him about the feud between the Zhao Family Martial Arts School and the Benlei Martial Arts School, and that Yu Tai was his master's sworn enemy. He warned him to be careful when encountering people from the Benlei Martial Arts School in the future. As for the specifics of the conflict between the two schools, Chen Wang didn't say, nor did he press for details. Some things are better left unsaid; there's no need to dig deeper.

"Good to know," Officer Qi smiled again, a smile tinged with a deeper meaning. "The people from the Thunder Martial Arts School won't hold back later. If you're no match for them, just admit defeat quickly; there's no shame in it. Young man, you have a long road ahead of you."

"Thank you for your guidance, Officer Qi," Xu Qing said, bowing with his hands clasped in thanks.

"Let's go." Constable Qi stood up, patted the wrinkles on his robe, making his black shirt rustle. "Come with me to the training ground first. You can compete in the training ground of the yamen, and I'll be there to watch, to ensure fairness."

The drill ground of the yamen was in the backyard of the county yamen, a large, square courtyard.

Two weapon racks stood on the sidelines, with rows of swords, spears, and halberds stuck in them, the iron gleaming coldly in the winter morning light. Several long benches were placed against the wall, their paint peeling off to reveal the grayish-white wood underneath, for spectators to sit on.

When Xu Qing arrived with Constable Qi, the training ground was still empty.

The sun had just risen, and the early winter sun was not warm. The golden-white light slanted across the blue brick ground, illuminating the entire area, but it couldn't bring out a trace of heat.

Constable Qi sat down in the main seat and gestured for Xu Qing to wait to the side. A servant brought tea, and Constable Qi picked up the teacup, took a sip, and closed his eyes to rest without saying a word.

About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, footsteps came from the courtyard gate.

Xu Qing looked up—

The person who entered was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a powerful and energetic gait.

"Changfeng Martial Arts School, Deng Yue," Constable Qi said in a low voice.

Deng Yue strode over, clasped his hands in a salute to Constable Qi, and said, "Constable Qi, I am Deng Yue from Changfeng Martial Arts School, here on my master's orders." His voice was loud and clear, full of energy.

Officer Qi nodded and smiled, gesturing for him to sit down first.

No sooner had he finished speaking than another young man entered through the courtyard gate.

He was lean and wiry, yet his bones were clearly defined. When he walked, his shoulders swayed slightly, like a leopard poised to pounce. He exuded a sharp and imposing aura.

"Benlei Martial Arts School, Han Bao." Constable Qi turned to Xu Qing and whispered, "Master Yu's newly accepted prized disciple. I've heard his skills are quite formidable."

Han Bao walked to the sidelines, clasped his hands in a fist salute to Constable Qi, his movements clean and efficient, and said nothing more: "Constable Qi, Han Bao has arrived."

Officer Qi smiled and agreed, glancing at the three of them before standing up and introducing them to each other.

Then, he cleared his throat: "I'll repeat the rules again. There's only one vacancy for the temporary post. Each of the three of you will nominate one person, and we'll have a competition. Whoever wins gets the post. Keep it brief and don't kill anyone."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three young faces in turn: "Who wants to go first?"

Han Bao and Deng Yue looked at Xu Qing almost simultaneously, and then looked away from him almost simultaneously, focusing their gazes on each other.

After Officer Qi said that Xu Qing was a disciple of the Zhao Family Martial Arts School, neither of them gave him a second glance.

In their eyes, this skinny disciple from the Zhao Family Martial Arts School was nothing more than a figurehead. The Zhao Family Martial Arts School was far inferior to their own; how much skill could its disciples possibly possess? This competition, in the end, was a contest between the two of them. It had nothing to do with that guy surnamed Xu.

Deng Yue stood up first, clasped his hands in a fist salute to Han Bao, and said, "Senior Brother Han, I would like to first learn from your mastery of the Thunderclap Fist."

Han Bao's lips curled slightly, and he let out a snort of laughter, which was taken as his agreement. He stood up, cracked his wrists, and his knuckles made a series of crisp sounds.

The two walked to the center of the field and stood three steps apart.

Chief Constable Qi waved his hand: "Let's begin."

Deng Yue made the first move.

He pushed off the ground with both feet and charged out like a bull. His right fist, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind, slammed straight at Han Bao's face—the starting stance of the Mountain-Opening Fist, splitting rocks and clearing a path. The fist's movements are expansive and powerful, emphasizing the word "fierce".

This punch was powerful and heavy, and the wind it generated made people's skin tingle. If an ordinary person were to take this punch, they would at least break two ribs and their head would be buzzing for a long time.

Han Bao, however, remained calm and unhurried.

He shifted his feet slightly, slipping away like an eel, barely dodging the punch. The fist grazed his ear, the wind whipping his hair back, but he didn't even blink.

At the same time, he suddenly threw out his right fist.

A sudden clap of thunder.

Thunderclap Fist, true to its name, strikes like a thunderclap from a clear sky, fast and swift, without any warning. That punch aimed straight for Deng Yue's ribs, at a tricky angle, as if it had been waiting for Deng Yue to expose his weakness.

Deng Yue was taken aback and quickly withdrew his fist to block. His reaction was incredibly fast; he brought his arms together in front of his ribs, like two doors closing shut.

"Bang!"

Their fists clashed with a dull thud, like two iron plates hitting each other. Deng Yue swayed, taking two steps back, his shoes scraping against the blue bricks with two sharp sounds.

Han Bao, having gained power, was ruthless.

His fists struck out in rapid succession, each punch faster and heavier than the last, like a summer thunderstorm, crashing down without giving his opponent any chance to breathe.

His boxing style is cunning and ruthless, specifically targeting the joints and vulnerable spots of the human body. His punches—under the armpit, in the lower back, on the side of the knee—carry a powerful, trembling force; if they landed, the bones would feel like they were crumbling.

Deng Yue was forced to retreat repeatedly, his arms raised in front of him like a wall to withstand the blows. His Kai Shan Quan (Mountain Opening Fist) emphasized fierce and hard strikes, using brute force to overcome skill, but Han Bao's punches were too fast, giving him no chance to throw a punch.

He tried to retaliate several times, but as soon as he raised his fist, Han Bao's fist was already at his vital point, forcing him to continue blocking.

"Is that all you've got?"

Han Bao sneered and punched Deng Yue in the arm with a dull thud, like a hammer hitting wet wood. Deng Yue grunted and took another step back, sweat beading on his forehead and trickling down his temples.

He gritted his teeth and suddenly let out a furious roar. The roar exploded in the arena like a thunderclap. He threw out both fists at the same time, determined to force Han Bao back, even if it meant taking a punch himself.

This was his last resort, a desperate gamble.

A glint of light flashed in Han Bao's eyes. Instead of retreating, he advanced. He ducked, and Deng Yue's fists whistled past his head, missing their mark. At the same time, his right fist slammed upwards, striking Deng Yue hard in the abdomen.

This punch was heavy and fierce, carrying the unique trembling force of the Thunderclap Fist.

Deng Yue let out a muffled groan. It was the kind of groan that seemed to be forced out of his throat, a suppressed groan. His face instantly turned bright red, his legs went weak, and he staggered back several steps, almost falling to the ground.

He was bent over, clutching his stomach with both hands, panting heavily, and beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead.

"Admit defeat." Han Bao stopped, stood still, and looked down at him. His tone was calm, but it was extremely hurtful.

Deng Yue gritted his teeth, making a clicking sound.

He struggled to straighten up, his back arching repeatedly. But the excruciating pain in his lower abdomen rendered him powerless; his abdominal muscles felt twisted like a pretzel, and each breath was accompanied by a throbbing, aching pain. He strained until his face turned red, and the veins on his temples throbbed.

Finally, he lowered his head and said in a hoarse voice, "I admit defeat."

The sound wasn't loud, but in the quiet training ground, every word could be heard clearly.

Constable Qi nodded, signaling his constables to help Deng Yue up. Two constables quickly stepped forward, one on each side of Deng Yue's arms. Deng Yue was helped back to the side of the field, where he plopped down on a bench, his face pale, and it took him a long time to recover.

He lowered his head, his hands resting on his knees, panting heavily, his expression a mix of pain and resentment.

Or both.