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

Xu Qing watched Sun Ping's departing figure for a while, then turned and went back to the inner courtyard.

He still needs to practice his skills.

After mentioning to his master that he wanted to exchange for better pills, Zhao Yan personally delivered a porcelain bottle the next day, containing ten bright white pills.

Zhao Yan said it was a "Strengthening Vitality Pill," three times more effective than Qi and Blood Pills. Zhao Yan didn't say how much it cost, nor did he ask.

He swallowed a Qi-boosting pill, and his blood and qi surged instantly. Without further hesitation, he stepped onto the plum blossom stakes and set up his stance.

......

On the official road outside the city, there were few pedestrians and the cold wind was biting.

Sun Ping wrapped his faded old cotton-padded coat tighter around himself and walked forward with his neck hunched. The cotton inside the coat had long since hardened into clumps, offering little warmth and letting in the wind easily.

He walked for a while, then felt cold and quickened his pace, but the wind was faster than him, sneaking in from under his collar, cuffs, and hem, cutting him like a knife.

When he got home, he felt like his body was almost frozen.

His home was small, with mottled earthen walls and Spring Festival couplets on the door frame from two years ago, the edges curled up and the red paper faded to pink.

In the kitchen, his mother was busy at the stove, while his father squatted beside her, tending the fire. Both of them had hunched backs.

"Father, Mother, I'm back," Sun Ping called out.

His mother turned around, saw him, and smiled, but the wrinkles in that smile were as deep as if they had been carved by a knife.

His mother wore a cotton-padded jacket covered in patches, with frayed edges at the cuffs and a hole in the collar revealing the blackened cotton inside. His father was in the same situation, with two large patches on the knees of his trousers.

"Ping'er! Come inside and warm yourself by the fire. The brown rice cakes in the pot will be ready soon, and I'll get you two." His mother said, reaching to lift the lid of the pot.

Sun Ping looked at the two tattered cotton-padded jackets his parents were wearing, and felt as if something was stuck in his throat.

He suddenly remembered the meal he had with Xu Qing and Qin Liang at the restaurant.

Braised pork knuckle, steamed sea bass, braised beef... He ate with gusto at the restaurant, his mouth dripping with oil, while his parents, dressed in tattered cotton-padded coats, waited in the kitchen for the coarse rice cakes to be cooked.

He thought of Xu Qing again.

Xu Qing had meat at every meal, and every few days he had medicinal soup to drink and pills to eat.

Xu Qing was also accepted as a personal disciple by his master and moved into the inner courtyard. He won first place in the Golden Scale Society, made meritorious contributions in suppressing bandits, and was given a position in the yamen. His monthly salary alone was several taels of silver.

They are both from Blackwater Bay and both came from poor families, so why is Xu Qing high and mighty while he is still stuck in the mire?

This thought was like a thorn, piercing Sun Ping's heart. He tried to pull it out, but the more he pulled, the deeper it went, and the more painful it became.

He remembered the silver coin Xu Qing had given him; it was enough for him and his parents to have a good New Year. He had refused it, but now he regretted it.

No, he doesn't regret it, and he doesn't want charity.

He squatted by the stove, took a piece of firewood from his father, and stuffed it into the firebox.

The firelight shone on his face, flickering in and out. His eyes were fixed on the dancing flames, which seemed to burn in his pupils, and something seemed to be awakening within him.

He recalled the day Qin Liang broke through to the Ming Jin realm. Everyone in the courtyard was congratulating him, and he stood to the side, joining in the congratulations and smiles, but in his heart he kept thinking... Why wasn't it me?

He's been practicing for three months, why hasn't he broken through yet?

He practiced standing meditation and boxing diligently every day, so why wasn't he chosen by his master?

He also wanted to live in the inner courtyard, win first place in the Golden Scale Gathering, get a position in the government, buy new cotton-padded coats for his parents, and make those who bullied his family never dare to come near him again.

But he had nothing; he had nothing at all.

He stood up, refusing the rice cake his mother offered, and went out into the yard.

As I left the kitchen, the chill returned.

He took a deep breath, and the cold air filled his lungs, making him shiver.

He told himself he had to work harder. He had to surpass Qin Liang, catch up with Xu Qing, and be better than everyone else.

He actually stood on a stake in the courtyard as if he didn't care about his life.

......

The next morning, Sun Ping stood in the courtyard again, the cold wind biting into his collar like a knife. He didn't move, nor did he flinch.

The same images kept replaying in my mind: Qin Liangming had become strong, gone to the yamen to take up a temporary post, and started receiving his monthly salary.

As for him, he still had no idea how much tuition he would receive after the new year.

Yesterday, he tentatively inquired about the silver, but there were only five qian of silver in the house.

He needed money to break through to the Ming Jin level, but money doesn't fall from the sky. He stopped having his father borrow money from door to door; he decided to borrow the money himself.

He knew the Fish-Dragon Gang was lending money at exorbitant interest rates, and he knew the consequences of borrowing. But he wasn't afraid; as long as he broke through to the Ming Jin realm, repaying the money wouldn't be a problem.

He looked up at the sky; it was already broad daylight. He packed up the stakes, unlatched the door, and stepped outside.

From inside the house behind her came her parents' voices, one after the other: "Ping'er, it's cold, where are you going? Come back quickly—"

He ignored it and didn't turn around.

Sun Ping walked against the wind toward the Zhou family compound; the Fish and Dragon Gang's old hideout was still there.

Standing at the doorway, my legs suddenly felt a little weak.

Inside the door, bursts of rough laughter, the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, and the gurgling sound of wine being poured from jars mingled together.

Hearing the voices of the Fish Dragon Gang members, he was so frightened that he wanted to turn around and run away. But then Xu Qing's calm face flashed through his mind, as did Qin Liang's straight back when he put on his constable uniform.

On what grounds?

He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palms, the pain bringing him to his senses. He took a deep breath of cold air, steeled his resolve, strode forward, and knocked on the door.

He stated his purpose directly, and the gang member who opened the door led him into the house.

The room was filled with the aroma of wine and meat. A dozen or so men were eating and drinking around an octagonal table. The gang leader, Ding Fei, was beaming, holding a wine bowl in one hand and a woman on the other.

"Chief Ding," Sun Ping's voice was a little tense, but he managed to keep it from trembling, "I want to borrow some silver. Ten taels."

The clatter of food and drink at the table suddenly fell silent for a moment as several pairs of eyes swept over, scrutinizing and amused. Sun Ping met their gazes without backing down.

Chief Ding put down his wine bowl, looked at him for a few moments, and suddenly laughed. The laughter wasn't loud, but it made Sun Ping feel a tightness in his chest.

"You're Sun Ping, the young master of the Sun family? You practice martial arts at the Zhao family's martial arts school in the county town?" Chief Ding seemed to already know about Sun Ping.

"Yes." Sun Ping nodded.

"Alright." Chief Ding didn't ask any more questions, and winked at the person next to him, "Second brother, go and get him ten taels of silver."

In the blink of an eye, the second brother took a silver ingot, casually tossed it on the table, and said with a forced smile, "Ten taels. Take it."

Sun Ping was stunned. He hadn't expected it to be so easy, without even needing to sign a loan agreement.

He reached out and picked up the silver; it was cold and heavy, making his fingers tremble slightly.

He bowed slightly, then turned and walked out. Behind him, the sounds of drinking and eating resumed, as if nothing had happened.

He wanted to make sure his parents had a good New Year.

He bought new cotton-padded coats for his parents, bought two jin of good wine, a whole chicken, and ten jin of meat.

He didn't mention borrowing money from the Fish Dragon Gang, only that his master had given him money for the New Year.

This year, for the first time, Sun Ping treated his parents to a whole chicken and juicy, fatty meat. His parents scolded him for wasting money, but their eyes welled up with tears.

He watched the two elderly people burying their heads in their rice, and he couldn't tell whether he felt a pang of sadness or a sense of satisfaction.

Lying on the kang (heated brick bed) at night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He placed the silver coins beside his pillow and touched them again and again; the icy silver coins warmed with his body heat.

He suddenly realized that spending money felt really good.

That kind of goodness isn't just about the grease on your lips and the new cotton-padded coat you're wearing; it's also about... how should I put it... a feeling of standing tall and not having to be subservient when you speak.

He was even a little addicted.

But as he turned over, he remembered Chief Ding's nonchalant smile.

What was hidden behind that smile? He didn't know. He only knew that he spent the money freely, but somewhere in his heart, there was a vague emptiness.