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

Fu Rui Lou.

The door to the private room on the third floor was pushed open again, and Xu Qing stepped inside.

The candlelight fell on him, outlining his angular features.

The bluish-gray robe fit him perfectly, his back was ramrod straight, and his gaze was calm and composed, neither flustered nor arrogant.

Before he came, his master had told him that the person who invited him was Su Changhe, the second young master of the Su family.

He took two steps inside, bowed slightly to the young man in the main seat, his gesture perfectly measured. No introduction was needed; one glance was enough for him to know this was Su Changhe: "Greetings, Young Master Su. I am Xu Qing, a disciple of the Zhao Family Martial Arts School. My apologies for being late."

The private room fell silent for a moment.

It wasn't an awkward silence, but a quiet of scrutiny and appreciation. It was like a room full of people admiring a painting, when suddenly the scroll was unfurled, revealing a work that was even better than they had imagined. The brushstrokes, the ink tones, the overall feel—everything was both unexpected and perfectly logical.

Xin Ling'er's eyes lit up as she recognized Xu Qing.

She slowly rose, bowed to Xu Qing, and smiled, "Young master, thank you for yesterday. If it weren't for you, Uncle Fu and I..." Before she could finish speaking, her eyes reddened slightly. If she hadn't met Xu Qing, it goes without saying what would have happened to such a delicate young lady if she had fallen into the hands of villains.

Su Changhe stood up, walked around the chair, and stood in front of Xu Qing, giving him a careful look.

Then he smiled, a friendly and sincere smile: "Young Master Xu, please take a seat. My cousin told me everything that happened yesterday. I will never forget her life-saving grace. I have prepared a small feast today, but it is of little importance."

The young men and women at the table raised their glasses one after another. Some offered toasts, some exchanged pleasantries, and some inquired curiously about what had happened yesterday.

Xu Qing responded to each question one by one, speaking little but always hitting the nail on the head, neither humble nor arrogant, neither trying to please nor feigning superiority.

In the past, he would have felt intimidated if he had shared a table with these pampered young masters and ladies. But now, sitting here, he was in no way inferior in demeanor.

This confidence comes from his fists. When your fists are strong, your back naturally straightens.

Xu Qing had no servants or maids by his side. The person serving him was Qian Wanjin, the manager of Fu Rui Lou restaurant.

Manager Qian was dressed in a brocade robe, spotless from collar to cuffs. But his back was bent, and he hadn't straightened up since entering the private room. He held a white jade wine pot, and as soon as the wine cup was empty, he would bend over and carefully refill Xu Qing's cup, his back bent like a shrimp, and his smile never stopped.

Fu Rui Lou has been in business in the city for decades, welcoming and seeing off only high-ranking officials and dignitaries. Manager Qian has a very sharp eye. He can tell at a glance who has money, who has power, who deserves respect, and who deserves deference.

He knew, of course, that someone whom the county magistrate's son, Su Changhe, would personally host a banquet to express his gratitude was not someone he could afford to neglect.

When Xu Qing entered, he immediately recognized Manager Qian. The man who had bought the precious fish for fifteen taels of silver at the fish market that day was wearing a silk robe, standing high up on the fish market, his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping down over the fishermen of Blackwater Bay, muttering, "Practicing martial arts? That's for the rich..."

At that time, his tone was contemptuous, his eyes disdainful, and he looked at Xu Qing and the people of Blackwater Bay as if they were a herd of livestock.

Now, he stood beside Xu Qing, bowing and smiling obsequiously, holding the wine pot with both hands, carefully pouring wine for him, saying "Please, young master," not daring to utter a sound.

The fawning smile on his face and the contemptuous look he had back then—it was clearly the same face, yet it seemed like two different people.

Manager Qian did not recognize Xu Qing.

In his view, the fishermen of Blackwater Bay would always be fishermen, wearing patched-up clothes and squatting outside the dock shed eating cold coarse rice cakes. They would never be wearing fine gray cloth robes, sitting in the private room of Furui Restaurant, being toasted by the son of the county magistrate.

His eyes only recognize clothes, not people; only recognize status, not faces.

Xu Qing didn't say anything.

But a strange feeling welled up inside me. It wasn't triumph, nor relief, but a faint...感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or reflection).

Just over twenty days ago, he was still that young fisherman standing outside the fish stall, listening to Manager Qian's lecture, head down, fists clenched, not daring to utter a sound.

More than twenty days later, he sat here, and Manager Qian stood beside him pouring wine, not even daring to recognize him.

He hasn't changed. What has changed is his identity, his fists, and the gray-blue robe he wears.

"Young Master Xu, let me offer you a toast."

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

Wu Mingyu stood up, holding his wine glass, a smile on his face, and said sincerely, "My younger brother Mingyuan is also at the Zhao Family Martial Arts School, and he's your fellow disciple. My brother is arrogant and spoiled at home. If he has offended you in any way, please forgive him, Young Master Xu."

Xu Qing stood up and clinked glasses with him. The glasses touched lightly, making a crisp "ding" sound.

He smiled and said, "Young Master Wu, you're too kind. Senior Brother Wu has a solid foundation; I still have much to learn from him."

Wu Mingyu waved his hand, whether it was feigned or genuine, and shook his head with a smile, a gesture that carried the unique helplessness of an older brother talking about his disappointing younger brother.

"What solid foundation? He practiced for three months before reaching Ming Jin, and after a year and a half he still hasn't reached An Jin. You reached Ming Jin in just over twenty days. What are you comparing him to? You're not even on the same level."

He shook his head and sighed softly, "I'll have to talk to him when we get back, tell him to settle down and stop hanging out with those shady characters all the time."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Xu Qing's face for a moment, before adding, "I hope Young Master Xu will take good care of him at the martial arts school in the future."

Xu Qing smiled but didn't reply.

Wu Mingyuan looked down on him. He had looked down on him from day one. Of average talent and from a fishing family, in Wu Mingyuan's eyes, Xu Qing was just a grasshopper that wouldn't last long. He wouldn't even give him a second glance.

But his older brother, the eldest son of the Wu family, was holding a wine glass and smilingly asking him to "take care" of Wu Mingyuan.

Sometimes, things in this world are just that interesting.

The banquet ended.

Xu Qing walked out of Furuilou. The night wind blew on his face, cool and chilly, carrying the chill of early winter.

The lanterns on both sides of the gate were still lit, casting a bright red glow on the bluestone path.

He stood at the entrance and looked up at the golden signboard. The three characters "Fu Rui Lou" gleamed faintly in the night, the strokes still vigorous and powerful, exactly the same as during the day.

Suddenly, the image of Boss Qian's fawning face as he bent down to pour wine flashed through his mind, along with the image of the young noblemen toasting guests in the private room.

He neither laughed nor sighed; he simply tightened his collar and strode toward the martial arts school.

Whether Boss Qian recognized him or not, whether Wu Mingyu offered him a toast or not, whether Su Changhe invited him to the banquet or not, he didn't care. He would forget about it once it was over.

Now all he wants is to get back to the martial arts gym as soon as possible.

At the banquet tonight, he ate a precious fish.

Su Changhe is hosting a banquet today, and the dish served is a golden-scaled fish weighing two pounds and eight ounces, which is even bigger than the one he and his second uncle caught the other day.

The meat of the golden carp is even more precious than qi and blood pills.

The moment the fish entered his mouth, a warm sensation rose from his lower abdomen, as if someone had lit a fire in his dantian. The flame was small, but it burned brightly and for a long time.

At this moment, the fire was coursing through his meridians, burning his whole body, making his blood feel like it was filled with boiling water, and making every inch of his bones buzz. Inexhaustible energy was rushing through his limbs and bones.

He wished he could smash a rock right now.

He needed to get back to the martial arts school as soon as possible.

Stand in a static posture, practice boxing, and let all the medicinal power of this precious fish seep into your bones, without wasting a single bit.

......

The next day at dawn, at the yamen (government office).

Chief Constable Qi was sitting in the signing room, with a case file spread out in front of him. His fingers tapped lightly on the pages, "tap, tap, tap," unhurriedly, like an old clock ticking.

His eyes were fixed on the case file, but his ears were listening to the sounds outside the door, his fingers tapping on the pages as if he were waiting for someone.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his gaze lingering on Xu Qing for a moment, a slight, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

"You're here? Have a seat." Constable Qi gestured towards the bench opposite him, closed the case file, and casually stuffed it into the drawer. His movements were unhurried, as if he was deliberately letting Xu Qing see it, or as if he didn't care at all that Xu Qing saw it.

Xu Qing sat down, her back ramrod straight, her hands resting on her knees, waiting for him to speak.

"You don't need to patrol the streets with Old Xue today." Constable Qi smiled at Xu Qing, his smile now showing more warmth. "Come with me on an errand later."

Xu Qing nodded without asking any further questions.

Officer Qi picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his gaze drifted over the rim of the bowl, through the rising steam, and landed on Xu Qing's face.

He asked with a smile, his tone as casual as if he were chatting about everyday things: "Did you attend Young Master Su's banquet last night?"

"Yes," Xu Qing replied, his voice not loud, but very crisp.

Officer Qi put down his teacup, his smile suddenly deepening.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced at Xu Qing from head to toe, his gaze containing scrutiny, probing, and a hint of satisfaction.

He suddenly stood up, walked to the door, and gently closed it.