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

Officer Qi pointed to the bundle, smiling warmly: "Don't just look. Check it over, make sure nothing's missing."

Xu Qing bent down, untied the bundle, and took out the items one by one.

A bronze plaque, about the size of a palm, with the words "Qinghe County Government Office" engraved on the front. The edges were worn smooth, and it was unclear who had worn it on their waist for several years.

He was dressed in a light-colored, slightly worn, indigo blue that had faded from washing, folded neatly and squarely with sharp edges.

The scabbard of the waist knife was black, and the brass fittings were polished to a gleaming shine. Xu Qing gripped the hilt and gently pulled it out, revealing a section of the gleaming blade. A cold light danced on the edge, illuminating half of his face.

Officer Qi smiled, his tone becoming more casual: "It's not brand new, but it'll do for now. If it breaks, just come to me for a replacement."

"The monthly allowance is three taels of silver," Chief Constable Qi said, leaning closer and lowering his voice. He then winked. "But as you know, in our line of work, that's all there is on the surface. As for the under-the-table deals... the shops and vendors on the street will give a little something during holidays. And when we're handling cases, the victims will give us some compensation for our trouble. Just keep that in mind, and don't go too far."

Xu Qing nodded. He understood what Officer Qi meant. The gray income was something that couldn't be openly discussed, but everyone knew about it.

Officer Qi pulled another piece of paper from the register, spread it on the table, and pressed one corner down with his finger. The paper contained a map of several streets and alleys, marked with the names of the alleys and intersections, and the areas were circled in red.

"You're in charge of these streets. This side of West Street, and the two streets to the south." He traced the area circled in red with his finger, then looked up at Xu Qing and continued, "The yamen has one day off every ten days. You'll be on duty at 3:45 AM every day, and you'll patrol your assigned area twice a day, morning and evening. Deal with any issues on the street, otherwise you're free to move around."

"You can go back to the martial arts school to practice, or you can stay at the government office. But there's one condition—" His tone became serious, "I need to know where you are. Don't let anything happen to you and I can't find you. Understand?"

Xu Qing straightened his back: "Understood."

"Alright." Constable Qi's tone softened again, and he patted Xu Qing on the shoulder. "You don't need to patrol the streets today. Go back and give Master Zhao the good news. Come to report for duty first thing tomorrow morning, and I'll have someone show you around the streets."

Xu Qing stood up and bowed respectfully to Constable Qi: "Thank you, Constable Qi."

"Don't be so polite, we're all on the same side now." Officer Qi smiled and saw him out of the yamen.

Xu Qing's figure disappeared around the street corner.

Officer Qi was still standing at the entrance of the yamen, gazing in that direction. He shook his head and muttered to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear, "Old Zhao seems to have struck gold this time. I just wonder if it's another Chu Sheng..."

When Xu Qing returned to the martial arts school, the sun had already climbed over the courtyard wall. In the courtyard, his fellow disciples were either practicing stances or throwing punches, and sweat was already beading on their foreheads.

He didn't rush over; he went back into the house first, put down his bundle, straightened his clothes, and strode towards the inner courtyard.

Zhao Yan was still sitting in the pavilion. Ning Yun stood quietly to the side, carrying a teapot.

As soon as footsteps sounded, the two men looked up simultaneously, their gazes landing on Xu Qing through the moon gate. Judging from the way he walked, it was clear without him saying a word: the temporary posting was done.

"Master," Xu Qing stopped outside the pavilion and bowed, "the temporary post has been taken care of. You'll start tomorrow, with a monthly stipend of three taels of silver, and you'll be in charge of four streets."

Zhao Yan nodded, shifting his gaze from Xu Qing's face to the cages of thrushes under the eaves. The thrushes hopped a couple of times in their cages, shook their wings, and chirped a few times.

"Work hard and don't embarrass the martial arts school." His voice wasn't loud, and as always, it was impossible to tell whether he was happy or angry.

"Disciple understands."

Zhao Yan didn't say anything more, waved his hand, and Xu Qing left.

He went back inside to change into his training clothes and strode towards the training ground. It was still early before lunchtime, enough time for him to work up a good sweat. He had to practice his stances and his punches; he couldn't miss a single day.

He had just settled on the plum blossom stakes when he heard a soft call from behind: "Senior Brother Xu".

Xu Qing turned around and saw Sun Ping standing not far away.

"Senior Brother Xu, I heard you went to the government office for a temporary post. I thought you weren't coming back today." Sun Ping chuckled, his smile carrying a hint of youthful envy.

He slightly raised his eyelids, as if he had thought of something, and quickly added, "Oh, right, Senior Brother Qin just went home. He said something had happened at home and he left in a hurry."

Xu Qing nodded.

"Senior Brother Xu, what's it like inside the yamen?" Sun Ping leaned closer, his eyes full of curiosity. "What position do you hold, Senior Brother? I saw a scabbard sticking out of your bag when you came back. Are you a constable? How much is your monthly salary?"

Xu Qing glanced at him and smiled faintly: "Focus on your training and don't overthink things. Once you break through to the Ming Jin level, you can also take up a temporary post."

Sun Ping chuckled and stopped asking questions. He then adopted a stance and began practicing Zhan Zhuang (standing meditation).

He bent his knees, straightened his back, and sweat quickly beaded on his forehead, large beads of sweat streaming down his temples. His calves trembled. But he gritted his teeth and remained silent.

He secretly vowed to himself: he too would break through to the Ming Jin realm, he too would take up a temporary post, and he too would earn money for his family. He wanted his parents to live a better life, so they wouldn't have to get up before dawn to fish, and they wouldn't have to argue with others until their faces turned red over a single penny...

......

When the sun reached its zenith, the kitchen staff started serving meals.

Xu Qing's meals were the same as usual, with meat piled high in his bowl. He picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and was about to put it in his mouth when he caught a glimpse of Qin Liang out of the corner of his eye.

Qin Liang was coming in through the main gate. He wasn't walking fast, but his steps were heavy, as if he had sandbags strapped to his feet.

His complexion wasn't good either. It wasn't the usual tanned reddish-brown, but a grayish-brown color, as if he had been soaked in mud and then dried.

Xu Qing slightly raised her eyelids.

Qin Liang is usually the most talkative person, and at lunchtime he wants to eat the whole meal at the martial arts school, complaining as he eats, "This is too salty, that is too bland," never mincing words, but he eats with more relish than anyone else. Today, however, he looks disheveled and ashamed, clearly indicating that something has happened.

Xu Qing called out, "Senior Brother Qin, have you eaten yet?"

Qin Liang raised his head and forced a smile. But the smile on his ashen face looked worse than a grimace. He didn't speak, waved his hand, and plunged into the house.

Xu Qing watched the door close, his gaze darkening slightly. The meat on his chopsticks hung suspended in mid-air as he stared at the door for a couple of moments.

Qin Liang must have encountered some trouble. But Qin Liang didn't say, and he didn't want to ask. Sometimes, if someone doesn't say anything, pressing them for answers will only make them feel awkward.

He lowered his head and continued eating.

After only a few bites, suddenly—

The door was flung open. Qin Liang rushed out of the house, running as fast as he could. He ran up to Xu Qing and stopped abruptly.

He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Xu Qing.

Xu Qing put down his bowl and asked, "Senior Brother Qin, what happened?"

Qin Liang opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down a few times, but no sound came out.

As soon as he entered the room, he saw the bundle on Xu Qing's bed. The bundle was half-open, revealing a section of a black scabbard. He recognized it; it was a constable's waist knife. He had seen people from the yamen carrying such knives on the streets, walking faster than ordinary people, with a more upright posture, and even the way they looked at people was different.

"Junior Brother Xu, you...you've taken up a temporary post? As a constable?" His voice trembled slightly.

Xu Qing nodded.

"Which streets are you in charge of?" Qin Liang grabbed Xu Qing's arm tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Xu Qing recounted the streets that Constable Qi had marked for him.

When the name "Green Willow Street" was mentioned, Qin Liang's eyes suddenly widened, his pupils contracted, and his gaze became intense.

"Green Willow Street... Green Willow Street..." he murmured twice. Then he took a deep breath, released his grip, took a step back, and his voice became a little steadyer, but it was still trembling, "Junior Brother Xu, I have something to tell you."

Seeing Xu Qing nod, Qin Liang then stammered on.

He was called home early in the morning by his neighbors because something had happened to his father's wonton stall.

Old Qin has been running a stall on Green Willow Street for over ten years, always honest and law-abiding, and has never caused any trouble.

But this morning, before dawn, three members of the Tiger Head Gang arrived. They kicked over a stool and smashed several bowls.

The leader said that he had lost three taels of silver at his father's stall and had to find it and return it by tomorrow morning.

Old Qin swore he hadn't taken it. He turned his pockets inside out and searched every corner of the stall.

But those people wouldn't listen at all. They only said one thing: "We'll come back to get it tomorrow morning. If you can't get it, you can forget about setting up your stall." After saying that, they walked away.

When Qin Liang returned home, his father was squatting behind the stove, his hands covering his head, his fingers running through his gray hair, silent and motionless. The fire in the stove had gone out, the ashes were cold, and there was a half-basin of unfinished wontons on the stove, the dough long since dried up.

His mother was wiping away tears, her sleeve soaked with sweat. Seeing Qin Liang return, she couldn't help but cry again, repeatedly saying, "We don't have any money left... All the money went to your martial arts training... How are we going to survive from now on..."

At this point, Qin Liang's voice choked up.

It wasn't the kind of choking that tears your heart out, but a muffled choking that seemed to be squeezed out from deep within his chest. He swallowed, swallowing the breath along with the choking sensation.

Then he looked up at Xu Qing.

"Junior Brother Xu." His voice was hoarse, filled with an unprecedented pleading. "I...I want to ask you to say a word for me. Just say that my father really didn't take those three taels of silver. If the Tiger Head Gang doesn't accept it, please help me put in a few days to ease the tension. Once we borrow the silver, we will definitely pay it back."

He bent over, his back bent so deeply it was almost at a right angle. Like a bamboo stalk bent by the wind, stretched to its limit, it seemed ready to break at any moment.

His head was lowered, his chin almost touching his chest, and his forehead almost touching his knees.

He just stayed bent over like that, refusing to straighten up.

Xu Qing reached out and supported his shoulder, placing his palm on it. He could feel Qin Liang's shoulder trembling slightly. He applied some force, lifting Qin Liang's shoulder up and straightening him little by little.

He didn't speak. But the pressure on his hand was heavier than any words.