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

The New Year is over, and life at the martial arts school has returned to its previous rhythm.

Standing meditation, practicing martial arts, eating, sleeping. New people come, old people leave, everything seems normal, yet everything seems a little different.

Xu Qing stopped training, and Wu Mingyuan never came back.

Since the Wu family's merchant ship was robbed on the Huanglong River last year, the Wu family has suffered a great loss of strength, and Wu Mingyuan has never returned to the martial arts school.

Some say the Wu family called him back, others say he didn't want to stay at the martial arts school anymore, and still others say he was helping with the business at home. No one really knows for sure, but the spot where he usually practiced his stance was already occupied by someone else.

Xu Qing is making progress every day, changing every single day.

He remained silent, yet everyone could sense something changing within him. It wasn't a sudden, overnight transformation, but rather a gradual, cumulative process.

His gaze deepened, becoming as deep as a well, its bottom unseen. His steps became more steady, as if nailed to the ground. His punches grew heavier, so heavy that even Zhao Yan, who was parrying his moves, occasionally showed surprise.

He gets up before dawn every day and continues to practice even after dark.

While others practiced once, he practiced ten times. While others rested, he continued practicing. The blue bricks on the inner courtyard's martial arts arena had been replaced several times, and now they were worn into dents by his constant footsteps.

He changed the pills he was taking from Qi Xue Wan to Zhuang Yuan Dan, and the prescription for the medicinal soup was also changed.

His salary was also increased by the government.

After the bandit suppression, Constable Qi reported his merits again. Although he was not promoted, his monthly salary increased from three taels to five taels.

Apart from Zhao Yan, he had never revealed his hidden strength to anyone else. In everyone's eyes, he was still Xu Qing, who possessed only visible strength, at most at the peak of visible strength, still a step away from hidden strength.

He kept this trump card very well hidden.

Days passed by, and before we knew it, it was the latter half of the first lunar month.

Sun Ping's life, however, was not as smooth as Xu Qing's.

He trained very hard, harder than anyone else in the outer academy. He would get up before dawn every day to practice standing meditation, while everyone else was asleep.

His hands were calloused, his knees were bruised and swollen, and every part of his body ached. Yet, he could never cross that door.

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Ming Jin's threshold was like an invisible wall, blocking his way no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through it.

The more anxious he became, the less he could break through, and the less he could break through, the more anxious he became. It was a vicious cycle, like a snake biting its own tail, going around and around, trapped in the same place.

He started having insomnia.

Lying in bed at night, tossing and turning, my mind was filled with all sorts of random thoughts:

Qin Liang broke through to the Ming Jin level and was given a position in the yamen, earning several taels of silver a month. People would call him "Officer Qin" when he walked down the street.

Needless to say, Xu Qing was the top member of the Golden Scale Society, a hero in the bandit suppression campaign, and his master's personal disciple. He lived in the inner courtyard, took Zhuangyuan Pills, and even the county magistrate sent someone to deliver tonics to him.

And what about him?

He is still the same Sun Ping.

After practicing for four months, I still haven't been able to break through to the Ming Jin level.

Those ten taels of silver are almost gone.

He dared not borrow again. Although Chief Ding of the Fish-Dragon Gang was polite, it was a loan, not a gift. He would have to repay it eventually.

Xu Qing noticed that something was wrong with him.

That evening, Xu Qing came out of the inner courtyard and passed by the martial arts training ground in the outer courtyard. He saw Sun Ping standing there alone, practicing his stance and boxing.

His punches were powerful and forceful, but his footwork was erratic, his breathing was erratic, and even his gaze was erratic. That wasn't practicing martial arts; it was venting.

Xu Qing stood there for a while, then walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Junior Brother Sun, stop practicing for now."

Sun Ping stopped, panting heavily, his forehead covered in sweat. He looked at Xu Qing with a complex expression, seemingly stubborn yet feeling wronged.

"You're practicing too hastily. This isn't training; it's just venting." Xu Qing's voice wasn't loud, but it was steady. "Haste makes waste. If you have something on your mind, you won't be able to stand still, and you won't be able to practice your fists properly. Go home and rest for a few days, and come back when you've calmed down."

Sun Ping opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, only nodding.

He asked the martial arts school for leave and went home.

Blackwater Bay is still the same Blackwater Bay, with low earthen houses, dilapidated fishing boats, and hunched-over fishermen at the dock.

As Sun Ping walked through the bay, familiar faces greeted him, "Ah Ping's back!" "How's your martial arts training going in the city?" He smiled and responded, but felt empty inside, as if something had been taken away from him.

He then went to the Fish and Dragon Gang.

I wasn't going to borrow money, I was going to "take a look".

He couldn't explain why he wanted to go; he just felt that something was calling to him from that place, from the Zhou family compound.

There was wine and meat inside, people shouting and laughing, cursing and swearing—something he could never experience in the martial arts school.

Gang Leader Ding was drinking and playing drinking games with several of his men in the courtyard. The table was laden with meat, and the men were all around it, their faces flushed and necks red from drinking. Some were playing drinking games, while others were bragging, making it even more lively than the New Year.

When Chief Ding saw Sun Ping, his eyes lit up, and he stood up to greet him, "Brother Sun! Come, come, sit down and have a drink!"

Sun Ping declined a couple of times, but sat down anyway. Chief Ding poured him a bowl of wine, then placed a piece of meat in it, smiling as he asked, "How's your training at the martial arts school going?"

"It's alright." Sun Ping picked up the bowl and took a sip; the liquor was so spicy that he grimaced.

"Has it reached the Ming Jin stage yet?"

Sun Ping shook his head, his face slightly flushed.

Chief Ding laughed and patted him on the shoulder: "No rush, no rush, it'll happen sooner or later. Come on, eat some meat."

As Sun Ping ate meat and drank wine, looking at the smiling faces of the people at the table, he suddenly felt the string in his heart, which had been stretched for too long, loosen a little.

Here, no one compares him to Xu Qing, and no one looks at him with that "why haven't you broken through yet?" kind of look. People here only care about whether you have the ability and whether you can fight.

"Chief Ding," Sun Ping put down his wine bowl, his voice slightly tense, "Does your Fish-Dragon Gang... need any more men?"

Ding, the gang leader, paused with his chopsticks, looked up at him, and a glint of shrewdness flashed in his eyes. The glint was so quick that it was almost invisible, but Sun Ping still caught it.

"We're short of them," Chief Ding chuckled, his smile as amiable as ever. "What's up, Brother Sun? Want to come?"

Sun Ping nodded, his throat feeling like something was stuck, and his voice was a little hoarse: "I'd like to take a position in the gang. It won't interfere with my martial arts practice, and I'll come whenever I have time. If you need anything, just call me."

After looking at him for a while, Chief Ding suddenly laughed, a hearty laugh.

He picked up his wine bowl and clinked it against Sun Ping's, making a crisp sound: "Alright! Brother Sun, from today onwards, you're a member of the Fish-Dragon Gang. You don't need to pay back the ten taels of silver you borrowed for now. From now on, you'll have a nominal position in the gang, and the gang will give you two taels of silver every month."

He paused, then pointed his chopsticks at the meat on the table: "Our Fish-Dragon Gang has simple rules. We share the meat and the money. If you work for me, you won't suffer."

Sun Ping picked up the wine bowl and drank it all in one gulp. The wine was spicy, burning from his throat all the way to his stomach like a fire.

The next day, Chief Ding assigned him a task: to lead a group of people to collect money from house to house.

After the Fish and Dragon Gang had been living peacefully in Blackwater Bay for two months, the rules changed.

Now, fish farmers not only have to pay daily "berthing fees" and "guarding fees," but also a monthly "protection fee."