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

Night had fallen, and the wind at Yucheng Wharf, carrying the mist of the river, was bone-chillingly cold.

The Black Tiger Gang's shack was lit, the dim light casting a long shadow of Ding Qi on the mottled earthen wall, like a lurking venomous snake.

Ding Qi sat in the armchair, his fingertips resting on the table, tapping it slowly and deliberately, yet the tapping made the hearts of the henchmen around him tighten.

No one dared to look up at him; they even held their breath, afraid that if they made a wrong step, they would become the target of his assertion.

"Manager Liu's carriage has left?" Ding Qi finally spoke, his voice extremely low, like sandpaper being rubbed.

"They're gone, they're gone, Seventh Master." The henchman bowed, his back covered in cold sweat. "They went to the prefectural city early this morning without stopping for a moment."

Ding Qi nodded slowly, and the tapping of his knuckles stopped. He raised his hand and touched the deep scar on his face—it was a mark left by an enemy when he was a child, slashed with a shard of porcelain. It had been there for more than ten years and had become a symbol of his ruthlessness.

Ding Qi is thirty-two years old. He has been with the Black Tiger Gang for twelve years, climbing from the lowest level of laborer at the docks to the position of gang leader.

He knew the Black Tiger Gang's rules all too well—they weren't set by the gang leader, but by the Zhao family of Fucheng.

The Black Tiger Gang has been rooted in Yu City for more than a decade, not because of its fighting prowess, but because it has the Zhao family as its backer.

The Zhao family runs a dock business and needs people to guard the premises, collect protection money, and suppress those who disobey them. The Black Tiger Gang is like the dogs the Zhao family keeps; they bite whoever their masters tell them to bite, and when their masters tell them to shut up, they don't even dare to breathe.

This time, the master bit Jiang Hao.

The reason is quite simple—the Liu family wants to poach people. The Liu family and the Zhao family are mortal enemies, having fought over docks and businesses in Fucheng for over a decade. The docks in Yucheng are a battleground for both families.

The Liu family wants to poach Jiang Hao, a genius who can open six acupoints in a year, but the Zhao family absolutely cannot let them.

Ding Qi picked up the glass of cold tea on the table, took a sip, and the bitter taste slid down his throat, suppressing the restlessness in his heart.

"What has Jiang Hao done today?"

"He didn't leave the martial arts school. Manager Liu talked to him all afternoon, but he didn't go with the carriage."

Ding Qi's lips curled into a cold smile. The fact that he wasn't going with the car meant the kid was still hesitating. But as long as the Liu family's gates remained open, he would eventually step inside.

Once Jiang Hao becomes a member of the Liu family, Ding Qi won't be able to explain things to the Zhao family.

The Zhao family has already made it clear – "If you can't touch Jiang Hao, you can forget about being the gang leader."

"Gather the men." Ding Qi stood up abruptly, his short sword flashing as it was drawn from its sheath in the oil lamplight. "Go to the martial arts school tonight and 'invite' that kid out. Remember, don't smash the place up, don't kill anyone, just take Jiang Hao with you. As for Instructor Liu, just say you're inviting his disciple for tea; it's not illegal."

The henchmen responded in unison, turned around and walked out, their footsteps extremely light.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The night was as dark as ink, and the lights in the martial arts school went out one by one, leaving only a few corridor lights that swayed in the wind, casting a dim yellow glow.

The light was still on in Jiang Hao's room.

He sat by the window, clutching the letter that Steward Liu had left before he left. The edges of the paper were crumpled, and there was only one line: "The Liu family's gate is always open for you."

The image of my uncle before his death suddenly appeared before my eyes.

Jiang Hao was only ten years old that year. His uncle, covered in blood, was carried home, clutching his hand, his voice barely audible: "Hao'er, take the martial arts exam... Be an upright person, don't become someone's bodyguard..."

My uncle was a bodyguard; he died in a vendetta, without even a proper burial. The master gave him ten taels of silver and sent him away.

From that day on, Jiang Hao told himself that he would never be anyone's subordinate in this lifetime.

But now, the Black Tiger Gang's knife is already at his neck.

Choosing the Liu family means survival, the ability to practice martial arts, and the chance to pass the martial arts examination, but the mark of the Liu family will forever be on one's body; not choosing the Liu family means uncertainty about whether the path to the martial arts examination will be successful, and the Black Tiger Gang will never let him go.

He crumpled the letter into a ball, then unfolded it again, repeating this process several times until the pages were tattered and torn.

Just then, a flurry of footsteps and the clanging of weapons erupted outside the courtyard wall, followed by Ding Qi's cold shout: "Jiang Hao, come out!"

Jiang Hao suddenly stood up, grabbed the steel knife he never parted with from the bedside, and gripped the handle until it was hot.

He pushed open the door and saw more than a dozen members of the Black Tiger Gang standing at the gate, their knives gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

Ding Qi stood at the front, the scars on his face particularly conspicuous in the night, his eyes filled with ruthlessness.

"Ding Qi, are you going to rebel?" Jiang Hao's voice was deep, and his hand was already gripping the hilt of his knife.

"It's not a rebellion, I just wanted to invite you for a cup of tea." Ding Qi smiled, but there was no warmth in his smile. "Manager Liu is gone, so there's no one to keep you company with tea. I, Master Qi, will keep you company."

Jiang Hao didn't move, his back against the courtyard wall, cold sweat sliding down his spine.

Behind him was the courtyard wall, beyond which lay the training ground. The side gate was at the end of the training ground, but he wasn't sure he could escape—surrounded by more than a dozen people, even if he activated six acupoints, he would still be no match for them.

"Stop struggling." Ding Qi took two steps forward, his oppressive aura overwhelming. "Come back to the Black Tiger Gang with me, and you'll live a life of luxury, with no one daring to touch you; if you don't come, you won't be leaving this courtyard today."

The henchmen slowly advanced, the glint of their blades reflecting on Jiang Hao's face, making his complexion grow even paler.

At this critical moment, thick smoke suddenly billowed up from the east side of the martial arts school!

Flames shot into the sky, illuminating half the night sky, followed by shouts of "Fire!"

Ding Qi's expression changed drastically. He turned around and saw that the area where the carriage had been parked was now a sea of ​​fire, with thick smoke billowing out, making it impossible for people to open their eyes.

"Damn it! Who did this?!" Ding Qi roared angrily, pointing the short knife in his hand straight ahead.

The henchmen were thrown into chaos instantly. Some shouted for help to put out the fire, while others yelled for a sneak attack. Ding Qi had to shout several times to barely stabilize the situation.

But when he turned around again, Jiang Hao had already disappeared from the courtyard gate.

"Chase him!" Ding Qi gritted his teeth, the sound of them grinding together. "He can't have gone far! Search him!"

In the narrow alley outside the martial arts school, Jiang Lan pulled Jiang Hao along, crouching low as they rushed forward.

The alley was dark and narrow, barely wide enough for one person. The two of them stood sideways, their footsteps extremely light, as Ding Qi's cursing and chaotic footsteps grew closer behind them.

"Why are you helping me?" Jiang Hao asked breathlessly, his voice full of confusion.

Jiang Lan didn't turn around, but pulled him into another alley and whispered, "We're from the same clan, who else should we help if not you?"

Jiang Hao fell silent and didn't say anything more.

The two ran all the way to the dock. Jiang Lan pushed Jiang Hao into the shadow of a small boat, then crouched down herself, holding her breath. The Black Tiger Gang's henchmen rushed past from the alleyway, their steps hurried, completely unaware of them.

After a long time, the footsteps gradually faded away.

Jiang Hao leaned against the deck, panting heavily. Jiang Lan looked at him, her eyes serious: "What do we do now? The Black Tiger Gang won't let this go."

Jiang Hao remained silent for a long time. The moonlight shone on his face, reflecting the weariness and determination in his eyes.

"I'm going to the Liu family." He said firmly, "Manager Liu has left someone in Yu City, I'll go see him tomorrow."

He paused, a hint of helplessness in his voice: "My father wanted me to take the military examination, but my uncle died in the inner city. I can't die; if I die, I'll have nothing left."

Jiang Lan didn't say anything, but just patted him on the shoulder.

Jiang Hao stood up, dusted himself off, and looked at Jiang Lan with a particularly serious expression: "Come to me once I've established myself in Fucheng. After you reach the Nine Acupoints, don't waste your time in Yucheng. There's no way out here; only Fucheng has everything you want."

After saying that, he didn't look back and strode into the night, his figure quickly swallowed by darkness.

Jiang Lan stood by the dock, the night wind whipping up moisture that made his clothes flutter. Jiang Hao's words echoed repeatedly in his mind—"Come to the prefectural city to find me."

The prefectural city was another world altogether. There was the Liu family, the Zhao family, true powerhouses, and the examination hall for martial arts candidates.

The guards there, even a random one, were better than the instructors in Yu City. He used to think these things were too far removed from his own life, but now, Jiang Hao had gone there, and Jiang Hao had given him a path.

He squatted down and put his hands into the icy river water to wash away the grime.

Looking up at the distant dock, several scarlet lanterns were lit, like eyes staring at people, radiating a fierce light.

It turns out that this little dispute in Yu City was just the tip of the iceberg in the power struggle among the major forces in the prefectural city. And he almost didn't even have the right to stand on the shore and watch.

He stood up and walked home. Tomorrow, the sun will rise again, and he will still have to go to the grain store to move goods, practice his boxing, pay off his debts, and continue his stance training.

A way out isn't something you wait for; it's something you fight for.

Just as Jiang Lan reached the alley entrance, she suddenly stopped, her expression changing slightly.

From the direction of the dock came Ding Qi's furious roar, clearly carried through the night wind: "Investigate! Who let Jiang Hao go tonight! Dig three feet into the ground, find that kid!"

Immediately following were the sounds of approaching footsteps and shouts from the Black Tiger Gang's henchmen.

Jiang Lan suddenly dodged and hid in the shadows beside her, her heart clenching.

He never imagined that his act of saving someone would drag him into the mire as well.

There's no turning back now.

To survive, to protect his mother, and to leave Yu City, he had no choice but to train harder and become stronger faster than before.

In his mind, the golden panel flashed slightly, and the number [Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 285/300] was particularly clear in the night.

This is his only source of confidence.