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

The inner courtyard of the Zhao Family Martial Arts School.

Zhao Yan held his teacup, his face expressionless, but after hearing Chen Wang's words, his hand paused slightly.

The news that Xu Qing had seriously injured Han Bao with a single punch finally reached the martial arts school.

Yesterday, Xu Qing returned and said that the temporary assignment was completed. Zhao Yan assumed everything had gone smoothly and didn't ask any questions or think much about it. He had no idea that there was such a competition in the government office.

At this moment, Chen Wang stood in front of him, panting as he recounted the whole story. Only then did he realize that the boy he had judged to be "below average" by examining his bones had knocked down his nemesis's prized disciple with just one punch in the yamen's martial arts arena yesterday.

"One punch?" he asked.

"One punch!" Chen Wang nodded vigorously, his voice filled with an excitement he himself didn't realize. "Han Bao from Benlei Martial Arts School fought Deng Yue from Changfeng Martial Arts School for ages before finally winning, but he couldn't even withstand a single punch from Junior Brother Xu. After hearing the news, I asked Constable Qi, and he told me himself. Everyone in the yamen saw it. Junior Brother Xu didn't even break a sweat after the fight; he was completely unharmed."

Zhao Yan put down his teacup and remained silent for a long time.

He had heard Old Shi from the Shi Family Martial Arts School mention Han Bao once.

Old Shi said that Benlei Martial Arts School has taken in several promising talents this year, one of whom is Han Bao.

Old Shi also said that it's getting harder and harder for their two martial arts schools in the west of the city. All the good talents are going to the east of the city, leaving only the less promising ones for them.

But now, Xu Qing knocked that "promising talent" down with a single punch.

Zhao Yan's gaze shifted, a strange, indescribable feeling welling up inside him. It wasn't surprise, nor delight, but rather a kind of...shaking. Like a decades-old tree with deep roots, suddenly a gust of wind blows, causing the crown to sway and even the roots underground to tremble slightly.

He suddenly began to doubt himself.

He began to doubt what he had believed in all these years. "Innate talent determines everything." That's what his master taught him, that's what the books said, and that's what he had believed his whole life.

Those with excellent physical constitution are more likely to go further. Those with average to below-average physical constitution are likely to reach their limit in terms of Ming Jin (manifest strength) and have little hope of breaking through to An Jin (hidden strength).

But what about Xu Qing? He has average to below-average physical constitution, but after twenty days of developing internal strength, he knocked down a promising student from the Benlei Martial Arts School with a single punch.

His foundation was unbelievably solid, his strength unbelievably powerful, and his progress unbelievably rapid. Is this really what someone who has "reached their limit with Ming Jin" should be like?

Is a special physique only useful in the early stages? Could there be something wrong with what Master said and what's recorded in the book? Could Xu Qing's physique be different? Can he reach the level of Dark Force? Or even... go further?

Zhao Yan dared not think about it anymore.

"Master." Ning Yun's voice came from the side, gentle yet earnest, as if he had considered it for a long time before speaking, "Junior Brother Xu came back yesterday and only talked about the temporary post, without mentioning a word about winning against the Benlei Martial Arts School. It's not that he didn't have the opportunity to talk about it, but that he didn't want to, and that he didn't want to make a fuss."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Zhao Yan's profile: "A person like this, who doesn't seek credit, isn't boastful, values ​​relationships and is grateful, has an excellent character. He's also willing to put in tremendous effort in his boxing practice, making rapid progress and gaining considerable strength. From any perspective, he's worth nurturing."

Zhao Yan remained silent, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. Once, once, and again. The sound wasn't loud, but in the quiet pavilion, every syllable was crystal clear.

Ning Yun continued, "Master, I know he has below-average physical talent. But physical talent is static, while people are dynamic. There are precedents of people with below-average physical talent breaking through to the Dark Force realm."

His voice became more certain: "I believe Junior Brother Xu can break through to the Dark Force realm. It's not blind faith; after watching him for the past few days, I genuinely believe he can succeed."

He raised his head, his eyes filled with an unusual seriousness: "With the strength that Junior Brother Xu has shown so far, if he breaks through to the Dark Force realm, our martial arts school will have someone who can carry the flag."

He paused again, looked at Zhao Yan, and said, word by word, "Master, if you don't train someone like him, who will you train?"

Zhao Yan looked up and glanced at Ning Yun.

His eyes were cloudy, filled with hesitation, struggle, and a hint of... fear. That fear was hidden deep inside, like a scabbed wound; it looked healed on the outside, but if you pressed hard, it still hurt underneath.

He wasn't afraid to spend money. Although the Zhao family martial arts school wasn't extremely wealthy, a few pills, a few bowls of medicinal soup, and a few pounds of meat weren't much. He was afraid of misjudging again, of pouring his heart and soul into the business, and of being let down again.

Chu Sheng's matter is like a thorn stuck in his heart; ten years have passed, and it still hasn't been completely removed.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. The breath was long, as if he wanted to empty his chest completely.

"When he comes back, have him come over." His voice was very soft, as if it were being squeezed out of his throat.

Ning Yun's eyes lit up, and she smiled.

He knew his master had made a decision.

......

After leaving her aunt's house, Xu Qing returned to the martial arts school.

He hadn't even had time to change out of his black robes when he was summoned to the inner courtyard.

Inside the pavilion, Zhao Yan sat in a grand chair, with Ning Yun still by his side. On the table in front of them was a small porcelain bottle, white-glazed, its mouth sealed with wax.

Xu Qing approached, bowed his head, and respectfully called out, "Master."

Zhao Yan didn't speak. He simply looked at Xu Qing, his gaze gentler than ever before.

He didn't beat around the bush and spoke up, his voice low and devoid of emotion: "I heard about what happened at the yamen yesterday. You defeated a disciple from the Benlei Martial Arts School with one punch, which made the school proud."

Xu Qing opened his mouth as if to say something, but Zhao Yan waved his hand, stopping him from speaking.

"You're not saying anything because you don't want to take credit. I know." Zhao Yan's voice remained calm and unhurried. "I've seen your character, your temperament. I've also seen your progress and strength. So—"

He stretched out his hand and pointed to the white porcelain vase on the table. His fingers were thick and his veins were prominent on the back of his hand; one could clearly feel the power lurking beneath them at a glance.

"There are three Qi and Blood Pills in the bottle. Starting today, you can continue eating meat and drinking Qi and Blood Soup as before. In addition, you will receive three Qi and Blood Pills every month."

Xu Qing was stunned. He looked at the porcelain vase on the table, then at Zhao Yan.

He had taken Qi and Blood Pills before, so of course he knew that one pill was worth five taels of silver.

Three coins equal fifteen taels of silver. Add to that meat and blood-nourishing soup, and the martial arts school spends more than twenty taels of silver on him every month.

He didn't believe that he deserved such treatment simply because he brought honor to the martial arts school. There must be something else involved, something he couldn't see, something his master hadn't said.

Zhao Yan didn't give him a chance to ask a question. He paused, his voice softening slightly, as if afraid of being blown away by the wind: "Also, I want to ask you something."

Xu Qing raised her head and met his gaze.

"Would you be willing... to properly kowtow to me and call me 'Master'?"

If his previous act of providing Xu Qing with meat and medicine was more of a form of compensation—a way to make amends for his guilt towards Ning Yun and to make up for the past—now it wasn't about repaying a debt or making up for anyone's regrets; it was about him as a person.

Xu Qing's mind went blank for a moment.

It wasn't dizziness, but a buzzing, buzzing sensation, like something was exploding in my head.

He understood the meaning behind Zhao Yan's words.

His master wanted to take him as his personal disciple. Not one of those nominal disciples from the outer academy, but a true disciple whom his master had wholeheartedly supported and taught. He would no longer have to pay tuition or worry about money. But all of this wouldn't be for nothing; he would have to be the flag bearer and protect the martial arts school, and care for his master until his death.

Chu Sheng is, Ning Yun is.

Now, it's his turn.

He wasn't a heartless person. He remembered all the kindness the martial arts school had shown him. From the bowl of braised pork and the two sets of training clothes on his first day, to the increasing amount of qi and blood soup they gave him later. Regardless of the reasons behind those acts of kindness, he genuinely accepted them, wearing them and swallowing them down.

He did not hesitate.

With a "thump," he knelt down, his knees hitting the blue bricks with a dull thud.

"Disciple is willing! Disciple pays respects to Master!" he said solemnly, then lowered his head and banged his forehead on the blue brick with three solid "thumps".

Zhao Yan looked at Xu Qing kneeling on the ground, his eyes slightly red. He stood up, walked over, and reached out his hand. His large, veiny hand gently pressed down on the top of Xu Qing's head before withdrawing it.

When he placed his palm on Xu Qing's head, he could feel the warmth of the heat, like a pot of charcoal fire.

"Okay. Okay." His voice was a little hoarse. "Get up."

Xu Qing stood up, a feeling he had never experienced before welling up inside him. It wasn't excitement or pride, but a heavy, grounded feeling. It was like a ship that had been adrift for a long time finally reaching the shore, its hull touching the sand, steady and secure, no longer afraid of the wind and waves.

Ning Yun stood to the side, watching this scene, her eyes shining. That light wasn't tears, but something brighter than tears. It was like someone standing halfway up a mountain, watching someone else, just like themselves back then, climb upwards. They couldn't climb up themselves, but watching others climb brought them comfort.

Zhao Yan's gaze fell on Xu Qing. He looked at this young man who had come from Blackwater Bay. When he knelt on the ground, his back was straight, and when he kowtowed, his forehead thumped loudly.

He suddenly felt that the weight that had been pressing on his heart all these years seemed to have lightened a bit.

He turned around, slowly sat back in the armchair, picked up the cup of tea that had gone cold, and took a sip.

The tea is cold and bitter.

But he felt that after drinking this bitter tea today, there was a sweet aftertaste on his tongue.