Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

Jiang Lan has been practicing martial arts recently and has experienced a different feeling.

In the past, when I boxed, I would use all my strength in every punch, and then let it all go, like throwing a stone at a wall. The stone would break, but the wall would remain.

Now, when you throw a punch, the force doesn't dissipate immediately; instead, it ripples through your body like water, building up power for the next punch.

He stood in front of the wooden stake, about to close his eyes and begin his stance, when two hushed voices drifted in from outside the courtyard wall. The words "Black Tiger Gang" sounded like needles chilled to the bone, making his fingertips clench slightly.

He suppressed the stirrings in his heart, closed his eyes, and continued to perform a set of Mountain-Crushing Fist in rhythm.

Tiger's might. Tiger's swing. Tiger's pounce.

The three moves are executed in a continuous, seamless sequence.

I used to be out of breath after a fight, but now my breathing is steady, my chest rises and falls slightly, and my heart rate doesn't increase much.

He could clearly feel the force rising from the soles of his feet, climbing up his leg bones to his spine, and then bursting out from his shoulders.

Punch after punch, the force never ceasing.

The same applies to stance training.

Before, standing meditation was an ordeal; my legs trembled, I was drenched in sweat, and every breath was a struggle to hold on. Now, standing meditation is about nourishing the body; my Qi and blood flow like water, and the practice is like digging a well. Once the well is dug, the water will naturally fill up.

With his feet firmly planted on the ground, knees slightly bent, and back straight, he stood there like a tree with deep roots, unmoved by the wind or swayed by the rain.

Blood and qi rushed up my spine to my shoulders and neck, and a familiar warmth suddenly welled up between my brows. A pale golden halo flashed before my eyes, and two lines of text clearly appeared in my mind—

【Crushing Mountain Stance Exercise (Minor Success): 63/500】

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 254/300】

He opened his eyes and clenched his fists.

He had already reached the threshold of minor mastery in stance training, but his fist techniques were still stuck at the beginner level. However, he could feel that the barrier was getting thinner and thinner.

In the past, boxing relied on brute force. Now, boxing relies on the circulation of qi and blood. The fist is still the same fist, but the power, speed, and fluidity are all much stronger than before.

"Come on, give it a try."

Sun Gengsan stood opposite him and waved. He stood with his arms crossed, his eyes more serious than usual.

Jiang Lan took a deep breath and assumed a fighting stance.

In the past, when he sparred with Sun Gengsan, he couldn't even withstand a single punch. Sun Gengsan was a martial artist who had opened five acupoints and had been training at the martial arts school for three years; his boxing skills had already reached a certain level of proficiency.

Every time they sparred, Jiang Lan's fists would be deflected, deflected, and countered before they even touched him, leaving him no chance to even touch the hem of his clothes.

This time, it's different.

Jiang Lan stepped forward with his right foot, twisted his waist and hips, and his right fist shot out—Tiger Strike.

Sun Gengsan sidestepped to block, his palm touching Jiang Lan's fist, and then smoothly pulled it away.

In the past, Jiang Lan would lose his balance entirely in this area, but this time, his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground. His body only swayed slightly, and his fist did not deviate from its direction by even a fraction.

Sun Gengsan's eyes lit up slightly.

Jiang Lan did not retract his fist. Using the surging force within his body, he twisted his waist and hips again, and his fist flipped out from under his ribs—the Tiger Swing—sweeping towards Sun Gengsan's side with a whooshing sound.

Sun Geng took a step back, avoiding the sharp edge, but his steps were no longer as composed as before.

Jiang Lan took a step forward and threw out both fists at once—a tiger pounce.

Sun Geng crossed his arms to block, grunted, and scraped a shallow mark on the blue brick under his feet, taking a step back.

Three punches! He caught all three punches!

Although Sun Gengsan did not use his full strength, and although Jiang Lan was exhausted and his breathing became somewhat disordered after throwing those three punches, he still managed to catch them.

Someone who couldn't even withstand a single punch before can now land three punches head-on, forcing his opponent to retreat.

Sun Gengsan looked at him, his eyes full of undisguised admiration: "You lad, you've improved really fast."

Jiang Lan was panting, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up.

Several disciples from humble backgrounds gathered around. Like Jiang Lan, they came from poor families, had average natural talents, and relied entirely on sheer grit and perseverance. They didn't talk much, but whenever Jiang Lan practiced until the very end, these people were also on the training ground.

"Jiang Lan, how exactly do you practice your stance training? Teach us!"

"Yes, tell us the secrets of your standing meditation method."

Jiang Lan glanced at them. They were all familiar faces—Liu Tie, Zhao Xiaoshi, and a few others whose names he couldn't recall. The way they looked at him was different now.

Jiang Lan wiped his sweat: "There's no secret to stance training, it's just standing. Stand until your legs shake, stand until your sweat dries, stand until your mind is blank, only your blood and qi are flowing."

He paused, his voice deepening, "Stand an extra hour each day, rest a little less. After a month, the difference will naturally be noticeable."

The group exchanged glances; some nodded, while others seemed lost in thought.

From then on, every evening, a group of people appeared on the training ground. There weren't many, just five or six disciples from humble backgrounds, who practiced stances and boxing with Jiang Lan.

No one spoke, only the sound of fists cutting through the air. Jiang Lan was not their master, nor had he taught them any unique techniques.

He was simply the one who trained the hardest and stood the longest. They followed him not because of what he said, but because of what he did.

As evening fell, Jiang Lan was about to leave when footsteps echoed from the covered walkway.

Jiang Hao walked over, looking terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were bloodless, as if he hadn't slept well for several days. His training clothes were wrinkled, and his hair was a bit messy—Jiang Lan had never seen him so disoriented.

"What's wrong?" Jiang Lan asked.

Jiang Hao glanced around to make sure no one else was there before lowering his voice, his tone filled with suppressed anger: "The Black Tiger Gang is looking for me again."

Jiang Lan's heart sank. The three words she had heard while practicing her skills exploded in her mind.

"This time it's not about poaching people," Jiang Hao's voice was even lower, with a hint of barely perceptible panic, "it's a warning."

"What did you say?"

"He told me to think it over carefully." Jiang Hao clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. "He also said that there are too many people and too many eyes on the road to the martial arts examination, and if something happens, no one will know who did it."

Jiang Lan's hands clenched unconsciously. This wasn't an overt threat, but it was more ruthless than a direct statement. An accident on the way to the martial arts examination—a broken leg, an ambush, even death. The Black Tiger Gang couldn't be traced back to them, but everyone knew who was responsible.

"Does Master know?"

Jiang Hao shook his head: "I don't want him to know. If he finds out, he'll either make me hide or confront the Black Tiger Gang. Neither of those solutions work."

He paused, looked at Jiang Lan, and said with an unusual seriousness in his eyes, "Don't tell anyone else."

Jiang Lan looked at him: "You're not going to the Black Tiger Gang, right?"

"Of course I'm not going." Jiang Hao's tone was firm, but the panic in his eyes was unmistakable. "But I can't hide every day. I can't avoid the path of the martial arts examination."

Jiang Lan was silent for a moment: "You go ahead and practice. The Black Tiger Gang might not actually dare to make a move before the martial arts examination."

Jiang Hao didn't say anything, and turned to leave.

Jiang Lan stood there, watching his lonely figure.

He had always thought that Jiang Hao was a genius who was high above everyone else and didn't need to worry about anything. He had talent, a wealthy family, and a master who valued him; the bright path to the martial arts examination was right in front of him.

But now he discovers that geniuses also have their troubles. The Black Tiger Gang not only oppresses the poor, but also the rich and talented.

If you're not one of them, they'll trample you underfoot.

He didn't want Jiang Hao to go to the Black Tiger Gang.

It wasn't entirely because of how close she was to Jiang Hao, but because Jiang Hao was the only person in Yu City who refused to bow down to the Black Tiger Gang and could still force his way through the martial arts examination based on his talent.

If even Jiang Hao was forced to bend over by the Black Tiger Gang's knife, then those of them from poor families with no background or connections will only be trampled in the mud for the rest of their lives, with no hope of ever getting ahead.

But he can't help Jiang Hao now; he's too weak. The insurmountable gap between a martial artist who has opened five acupoints and a newcomer like him who has only opened two can never be bridged by mere enthusiasm.

He had no other way but to train. Train to the point of exhaustion. Train until he could take a Black Tiger Gang's knife head-on, train until he could protect all those who refused to bow down, train until one day he would no longer have to watch helplessly as evildoers ran rampant.

In the evening, Jiang Lan worked at the grain shop.

It was completely dark, and there were hardly any customers in the shop. He stood at the door, looking towards the dock. The night wind blew from the river, carrying a heavy, fishy smell.

A carriage suddenly stopped in front of the martial arts school. A man stepped out of the carriage, wearing a silk jacket and a jade pendant at his waist, followed by two attendants with short swords at their waists.

It's Steward Liu, the steward from the Liu family in the prefectural city who came during the last fishing festival.

He straightened his clothes and walked into the martial arts school, followed by his attendant carrying a lantern. The dim light cast long shadows on the blue brick floor.

Jiang Lan's heart skipped a beat.

Steward Liu has come to Yu City again. Last time he came to collect tributes from the fishing nets, what's he here for this time? Sun Gengsan said that the Liu family runs the largest martial arts school in the prefectural city, specializing in training bodyguards and bodyguards, and every year they select promising talents from the surrounding counties to bring back to the prefectural city.

Are they here to pick and choose?

Who to choose?

A name instantly popped into his mind—Jiang Hao.

Jiang Hao is the most talented disciple in the martial arts school, having opened six acupoints in a year, and is about to go to the prefectural city to take the martial arts examination. If the Liu family is selecting someone, Jiang Hao will definitely be the most conspicuous target.

But if Jiang Hao is really chosen by the Liu family and becomes one of them, would the Black Tiger Gang still dare to touch him?

Jiang Lan stood at the entrance, gazing in the direction of the martial arts school, her eyes lingering for a long time.

The carriage was still parked at the door, the lanterns swaying slightly in the night breeze, like a pair of watchful eyes.

He suddenly remembered that Sun Gengsan had said in private that the Liu family's influence in the prefectural city and their long-standing feud with the Black Tiger Gang were not exactly benevolent.

Was Manager Liu really just here to scout for talent this time? Or is it somehow inextricably linked to the Black Tiger Gang's actions?

Just then, Manager Liu, who had just entered the martial arts school, suddenly stopped and, across half the street, glanced casually toward the grain shop, his gaze landing precisely on Jiang Lan.

Jiang Lan's heart sank suddenly, and the hairs on her body stood on end instantly.

He's being watched.

Whether the other party is targeting Jiang Hao or themselves, Yu City is destined to be anything but peaceful tonight.

He clenched his fist, the familiar warmth between his brows returning, and the golden panel flashed in his mind—

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 260/300】

Just 40 points away from breaking through to the minor success level.

But the Black Tiger Gang's knives and the Liu family's eyes won't wait for him to slowly hone his skills.

Jiang Lan took a deep breath of the night wind, which carried the fishy smell of the river, bent down to lift a heavy bag of rice, and turned to walk into the shadows of the warehouse.

You need to practice your boxing skills and walk your path.

But this time, he won't just wait to be beaten passively.