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

Han Bao turned around, his gaze falling on Xu Qing, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"The Zhao Family Martial Arts School?" He chuckled softly, shook his head, and said with a disdainful tone, "My master often says that the Zhao Family Martial Arts School has been declining in recent years, and the disciples it has taught are becoming less and less promising. Each generation is worse than the last."

He emphasized the phrase "each generation is worse than the last," as if he were grinding it on the tip of his tongue.

Then, he flicked off non-existent dust from his sleeves and said in a nonchalant tone, "With the skills of your martial arts school, you think you can get a position in the government? You're just making a fool of yourself."

He paused, raised his eyelids to look at Xu Qing, his eyes mocking: "Are you going to admit defeat yourself? Or do you want me to do it? Fists and feet have no eyes. If I hurt you, it won't sound good if word gets out that my Benlei Martial Arts School is bullying people."

Seeing that Xu Qing didn't react, he added, his voice still condescending: "Go back and train hard for a few years. When you have real skills, then come and compete for these things. Right now... you're not qualified."

Xu Qing did not respond.

He simply stood up slowly, walked to the center of the field, and stood facing Han Bao.

Han Bao was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

That smile carried a hint of surprise, a touch of amusement, and a dash of anger at being offended, like a cat provoked by a mouse, finding it both laughable and deserving a good lesson.

"Okay." He twisted his neck, and his cervical spine made a crisp "crack" sound.

His gaze suddenly changed, no longer displaying the same nonchalant ease he had shown when facing Deng Yue, but instead the ruthless glint of a predator eyeing its prey: "Since you insist on causing trouble, then I'll grant your wish!"

"Please." Xu Qing's voice was flat, just one word.

Han Bao was furious when Xu Qing ignored him like this.

His pupils contracted slightly, his eyes almost spitting fire. Without another word, he pushed off the brick with his foot, making a muffled thud, and shot out like an arrow, his clothes fluttering in the air with such speed.

His right fist, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, aimed straight for Xu Qing's chest.

Before the punch even landed, the wind had already arrived, like an invisible awl piercing through.

This punch was swift and vicious, carrying the unique trembling force of the Thunderclap Fist. Like the buzzing vibration in the air before a thunderstorm, it was invisible to the naked eye, yet one could feel the skin tingling. It was the same killing move that had just rendered Deng Yue utterly helpless—Thunderclap Shakes the Mountain.

The wind from the punch hit his face, and Xu Qing's hair was blown backward.

He moved.

He didn't dodge, didn't block, but simply took a step. One step, just one step, as if measured precisely, stepping into the blind spot of Han Bao's boxing style. His right fist suddenly struck out from his waist, the fist drawing a straight line in the air.

Five Elements Fist, Crushing Fist.

This punch had no fancy variations, no feints, no probing, not even any build-up; it just went straight out! Fast, accurate, and ruthless, like an arrow shot from a bow, with no turning back.

Before Han Bao could react, Xu Qing's fist had already slammed solidly into his chest.

The moment the fist touched him, Han Bao's pupils constricted sharply. He didn't even have time to feel the pain before he was sent flying.

"boom--"

Han Bao was struck as if by a charging bull. He coughed up blood, flew through the air, and landed heavily on the ground, his back slamming into the bricks with a dull thud. Dust billowed up like smoke from an explosion, enveloping half of his body.

He lay on his back, mouth agape, eyes wide open. A sharp pain shot through his chest, like being struck by a hammer or crushed by a massive boulder; he couldn't breathe, he was paralyzed.

He tried to struggle to get up, but his whole body felt like it was falling apart; every bone was aching and every muscle was trembling.

He braced himself with his arms, but they went limp, and he fell back down with a "thud." The back of his head hit the ground, and his vision went black for a moment.

Han Bao lay on the ground, his face as white as paper, the trace of blood at the corner of his mouth standing out starkly against his pale face.

The arrogance that had graced his face had vanished, replaced by an incredulous bewilderment. His eyes were empty, like two bottomless pits.

He lost?

One punch?

He didn't even see where the punch came from. He only remembered a blur of shadows, and then a feeling like he'd been struck by lightning in the chest.

Officer Qi nearly dropped the teacup in his hand, spilling tea all over his hand and scalding it. He was oblivious to the heat, staring wide-eyed at Xu Qing in the center of the room, his mouth slightly agape, as if he had seen a ghost.

Xu Qing's punch was so fast, accurate, and ruthless! It was as fast as a snake's tongue, as accurate as a tailor's needle, and as ruthless as a blacksmith's hammer.

Qi, the head constable, had witnessed Han Bao's strength firsthand. Although this young man had only recently broken through to the Ming Jin level, his strength was more profound than that of an average Ming Jin veteran, and the timing, angle, and force of his punches were all remarkably skillful.

But he couldn't even withstand one punch from Xu Qing? He was sent flying with just one punch?

The two constables beside him were also stunned. One of them was still holding a teapot, the spout pointing towards the ground, the tea bubbling out and forming a small puddle on the blue bricks, which he did not notice.

The other one was leaning against the wall, his knife at his waist was askew, and the scabbard was stuck on the ground, but he didn't bother to steady it.

Deng Yue of Changfeng Martial Arts School had forgotten the pain in his body. He stared blankly at Xu Qing in the arena, his mouth agape, as if he had been paralyzed by acupuncture, completely motionless.

The punch Han Bao landed on him earlier still throbbed in his lower abdomen. How could Han Bao, a fighter like him, not even withstand a single punch from Xu Qing? Just how strong was Xu Qing?

Xu Qing stopped, his fist slowly opening and hanging at his side. He looked down at Han Bao on the ground, his face showing no smugness, no mockery, not even any other expression; it remained as calm as still water.

"You flatter me," he said, his tone equally indifferent.

Han Bao lay on the ground, unable to speak, only staring at Xu Qing with a mixture of shame, anger, and a hint of fear that he himself was unwilling to admit.

He vaguely sensed it. Xu Qing had held back his strength in that punch. The moment the force struck his chest, he felt a brief pause. His fist had already touched flesh, yet he had abruptly stopped the impact.

If Xu Qing hadn't held back... he wondered if he would already be a corpse.

Officer Qi finally came to his senses. He put down his teacup, stood up, and his expression changed several times. From shock to disbelief, from disbelief to admiration, it finally turned into a sigh tinged with emotion, as if he were lamenting that he was getting old.

"Good." He clapped his hands, the sound of his palms striking each other ringing out crisply in the quiet training ground. He looked at Xu Qing, his gaze now more serious. "Indeed, heroes emerge from among the young. Such fast punches. The Zhao Family Martial Arts School truly hides dragons and crouching tigers; is another Chu Sheng about to emerge..."

He suddenly realized his mistake halfway through his sentence, quickly changed the subject, gave an awkward laugh, and said in a dry voice, "This temporary post is yours."

Chu Sheng was once a genius at the Zhao family martial arts school, but he was also a rebellious disciple who injured his master. It is obviously inappropriate to compare him to Xu Qing.

Xu Qing, however, was unaware of Chu Sheng's affair with the Zhao family martial arts school and didn't understand what he was hearing. He clasped his hands in a respectful bow to Constable Qi, saying, "Thank you, Constable Qi."

Constable Qi nodded and waved his hand. Two constables stepped forward and lifted Han Bao off the ground, one on each side. Han Bao's legs were still weak, and his toes dragged on the ground, carving two shallow furrows in the blue bricks.

"Take him back to Benlei Martial Arts School," Constable Qi said calmly, his tone neither too harsh nor too soft. Han Bao was outmatched and injured; Benlei Martial Arts School couldn't really say anything. In martial arts sparring, fists and feet have no eyes; injuries and bloodshed are common, especially since Xu Qing had already shown mercy.

Han Bao was helped away. He kept his head down, not looking at anyone, his face alternating between pale and flushed, his lips tightly pressed together, and he didn't utter a single word. His back resembled a drowned dog with its tail between its legs, soaking wet, its spine bent low.

Deng Yue also left. His lower abdomen was still aching slightly, and he walked with a slight hunch and very careful steps.

As he left, he made a point of turning back to look at Xu Qing.

In that glance, there was admiration, shock, and a touch of self-mockery.

He had initially thought he had only lost to Han Bao, but now it seemed he didn't even deserve to lose to Xu Qing. Han Bao at least allowed Xu Qing to land a punch, while he himself hadn't even earned the right to let Xu Qing make a move.

The training ground fell silent.

Officer Qi looked at Xu Qing and said with a smile, "That punch of yours really gave the head of your Zhao family martial arts school a lot of face. To have such strength after just breaking through to the Ming Jin stage, if you ask me, you're almost qualified to participate in this year's Laba Festival. If you had started training a few months earlier, you would have definitely shone brightly at the Laba Festival."

Xu Qing raised her head, her eyes filled with a hint of doubt.

"You don't know?" Constable Qi was taken aback, then laughed. "The Laba Festival is also called the 'Golden Scale Festival.' It is held at the county government office every year on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month. The county magistrate personally hosts a banquet, inviting the county's dignitaries to drink Laba porridge and eat golden scale fish."

He paused, then took half a step closer to Xu Qing: "The main focus of the banquet is actually your six martial arts schools. At the banquet, the county magistrate will give the martial arts school disciples a chance to shine. Each of the six martial arts schools in the county will send three Ming Jin disciples to spar and compete."

He paused again, then said, "To put it bluntly, it's all about the reputation of each martial arts school."

"If a disciple performs well, the martial arts school shines. If a disciple performs poorly, the school is embarrassed. Going deeper, it also relates to potential and the future. The stronger a school's disciples are, the better the students they can attract. The weaker the disciples, the less likely the good students will want to join. So, you're all putting in your best efforts, eager to pull out all the stops."

Xu Qing listened, his heart stirred slightly, but his face remained expressionless. He did not reply.

Seeing that he was listening attentively, Officer Qi smiled and patted his shoulder. The pat was neither too light nor too heavy, but carried the warmth of an elder: "There's only a month or so until Laba Festival. In previous years, the boxing matches at the Laba Festival were all performed by masters of the Ming Jin level, so you won't be able to make it. Come on, let's take care of business first."

He turned around and strode towards the signing room, his steps much lighter than when he came, his boots clicking on the blue bricks.

"From today onwards, you are one of our yamen's people!" Constable Qi's voice drifted back from the front, his tone now more enthusiastic.

Officer Qi took Xu Qing back to the house, where they completed the formalities, filled out the forms, pressed their fingerprints, and received a bundle.

Inside the bundle was a set of constable's clothes, a waist knife, and a brass waist tag.

Xu Qing took the bundle, his fingers gripping the cloth strap tightly. The bundle wasn't heavy, but his heart felt heavy.

From today onwards, he is practically an official.

He wasn't a real official. He had no rank, no official seal, and no official hat or plume. But he wore a badge on his waist, so everyone who went out with him would look at him with respect.

The rice bowl I couldn't get in my past life, I've finally got to get in this one.

He looked down at the bundle, his heart filled with mixed feelings, unable to tell whether it was a sense of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or something else).