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

Two months passed in the blink of an eye.

The locust tree leaves in the yard turned yellow and fell again. Cheng Erniang swept them up three times and piled them in the corner, waiting to burn them as firewood in the winter.

Jiang Lan's life became monotonous—he would go to the martial arts school to practice boxing during the day, and return home at night to practice his internal strength in the courtyard, honing the power of his Tongbei Fist. Apart from eating and sleeping, all his time was devoted to cultivation.

【Bengshan Quan Dacheng (820/1000)】

[The Collapse of the Mountain Pile is Completed (805/1000)]

[Introduction to Visceral Strength (48/100)]

He progressed faster with the Mountain-Crushing Fist than with stance training, as he spent more time practicing the fist form than stance training. Internal organ strength was the slowest; he had only just completed about half of the method of inhaling and expanding the abdomen after two months of practice.

Sometimes, when Cheng Erniang got up in the middle of the night to drink water, she would hear gurgling sounds coming from his room, like the croaking of frogs. She would ask him if he had an upset stomach. He would say he was fine and was practicing his martial arts, so Cheng Erniang would not ask any more questions.

Inside the martial arts school, Liu Changqing's attitude towards him subtly changed.

It's not that it's gotten worse, but rather that it's become less appealing.

When he first passed the martial arts exam, Liu Changqing would watch him practice boxing every few days, offering a few pointers and asking about his progress. In the past two months, however, the visits have become less frequent. Sometimes, after he had finished practicing two rounds of stance training in the courtyard, Liu Changqing would pass by, merely nodding and continuing on his way.

Jiang Lan knew the reason.

It's not that he didn't work hard; it's just that his natural talent is what it is. With six acupoints cultivated and the Mountain-Crushing Fist mastered, he's considered top-tier among the martial arts school's disciples, but in the entire county, he's only above average.

Liu Changqing has seen too many disciples like this—they are full of enthusiasm when they first start learning, but they get stuck after a certain point, unable to go any further or down, and slowly fade into obscurity.

He probably felt that he was the same way.

Since Zhao Heng, the last disciple personally trained by the master, was crippled, the reputation of the martial arts school has plummeted. In the past two months, the number of new disciples has been pitifully small, less than five in total.

Rumors were still circulating outside the Cangsong Martial Arts School, saying that Guangchang's kung fu was inadequate, unable to even save the arm of an eight-point master. Liu Changqing was so worried that his brows were never relaxed; how could he possibly have the mind to keep an eye on a disciple of "mediocre talent"?

……

That afternoon, Jiang Lan finished practicing her stance training twice and sat on a stone bench under the eaves, wiping away her sweat.

Guests have arrived at the martial arts school.

A blue-curtained carriage stopped at the entrance, and two people alighted. The one in front was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, wearing a dark blue silk robe, with a straight back and steady steps.

Following behind was a young man in his early twenties, tall and slender with a fair complexion, wearing a moon-white robe and a jade pendant hanging from his waist. He walked with his head slightly raised.

The disciples in the courtyard all turned to look and whispered among themselves.

"Who is that?"

"Master Chen Zhenggang of Xingyi Quan! Next to him is his son, Chen Nian, who ranked fifth in this year's martial arts entrance exam!"

"Fifth on the second-tier list? Higher than Senior Brother Jiang?"

"I heard that he has already reached the peak of six acupoints and will be aiming for seven acupoints by the end of this year."

"What's he doing at our martial arts gym?"

Zhou Yan sidled up to Sun Gengsan, who had just come out of the guest room, and asked in a low voice, "Senior Brother Sun, what brings Master Chen here?"

Sun Gengsan looked around, his expression complex, and slowly said, "They've come to propose marriage."

"A marriage proposal?!" Zhou Yan's eyes widened suddenly. "To whom? Could it be—Senior Sister Liu?"

The expressions of the disciples standing nearby all changed.

Liu Changqing has only one daughter, Liu Yun, who is nineteen years old this year. She is pretty and gentle, and usually helps manage the martial arts school's accounts and takes care of injured disciples.

Many people in the martial arts school had feelings for her, but no one dared to speak up—Liu Changqing valued his daughter highly, and ordinary people were not worthy of his attention.

Chen Nian is different. Her father is a martial arts graduate, and she herself is seventh on the second-tier list, at the peak of the six acupoints, and comes from a wealthy family. If this marriage goes through, it will be considered a great stroke of luck for Guangchang Martial Arts School.

"What did Master say?" someone asked.

Sun Gengsan shook his head: "Master neither agreed nor disagreed. But Senior Sister Liu—"

"What did she say?"

"She said, let's talk about it after Chen Nian breaks through the seventh acupoint." Sun Gengsan smiled bitterly.

Upon hearing this, everyone's tense nerves relaxed slightly. Opening the seventh acupoint is not so easy; many martial artists in the county have been stuck at the sixth acupoint for their entire lives.

Saying "we'll talk about it after we break through" sounds like a polite refusal.

But Jiang Lan sensed something different.

Liu Yun said "wait for a breakthrough," not "it's impossible." She left herself some leeway and also left Chen Nian with hope. A genius at the peak of the sixth acupoint level, with his martial arts master father's full support, has a good chance of breaking through to the seventh acupoint level by the end of the year. What if he really does break through?

He glanced at the guest room window. The window was open, and he could see Chen Zhenggang and Liu Changqing talking inside. Liu Yun was sitting to the side, her head down, so his expression was not visible.

Chen Nian stood at the door, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Liu Yun, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Jiang Lan looked away and continued wiping her sweat.

Ultimately, the marriage proposal was Liu Changqing's family matter. As a disciple, it was none of his business. But he felt that Liu Nianbo's timing in coming didn't seem to be solely for the purpose of getting married.

Guangchang Martial Arts School was weak, Songfeng Martial Arts School was pressing forward relentlessly, and the Zhao family was eyeing them covetously from behind. Chen Nian and her father chose this critical juncture to propose marriage because they saw Guangchang's predicament—Liu Changqing couldn't refuse, nor dared to refuse.

To take advantage of someone's misfortune.

He didn't say it aloud, but he thought about it in his mind.

……

In the evening, Jiang Lan came out of the martial arts school and was stopped at the alley entrance.

Song Kui, one of Huo Yuanlong's men, was dressed in a gray cloth outfit with a knife at his waist, and his face looked rather unpleasant.

"Brother Jiang, Chief Huo requests your presence."

"What is it?"

Song Kui glanced around and lowered his voice, "Something's happened with the Canal Gang, it's not convenient to talk about it here."

Jiang Lan nodded and followed him.

The canal gang's headquarters was located on the dock, in an old two-story building. Goods were piled up downstairs, and Huo Yuanlong held meetings upstairs. When Jiang Lan went upstairs, Huo Yuanlong was sitting by the window smoking his pipe, with ashes scattered on the table that he hadn't wiped away.

"You're here?" Huo Yuanlong raised his eyelids slightly, his voice hoarse. "Sit down."

Jiang Lan sat down without speaking, waiting for him to speak.

Huo Yuanlong took a couple of puffs of his pipe, put it on the table, and said, "The Zhao family has helped build up the Flying Fish Gang, which is specifically designed to steal business from the Canal Gang."

"In the past two months, the Flying Fish Gang has seized two of our docks and killed three of my brothers. I sent people to negotiate, but they wouldn't talk. They only said one thing: in half a month, according to the rules of the underworld, the winner will be decided by a fistfight. The loser will get out of the dock without leaving an inch of his body."

Jiang Lan frowned slightly: "A fistfight?"

"Each side will send one person to fight in the arena, life or death is irrelevant," Huo Yuanlong said. "The person from the Flying Fish Gang is named Wang Yaozu, whom the Zhao family invited from out of town. He has a seventh-level cultivation level and won five consecutive arena matches in the prefectural city two years ago without losing."

"Who's fighting on the Cao Gang's side?"

Huo Yuanlong was silent for a moment: "Nobody's here."

"Vice-leader Lao Wu, with six acupoints, was slashed last month when he fought the Flying Fish Gang for the docks, and his wound hasn't healed yet. The rest are either too young or too old. Sending them to fight Wang Yaozu would be no different from sending them to their deaths."

He looked at Jiang Lan with an indescribable look in his eyes.

I'd like to invite you.

Jiang Lan did not answer.

"Aren't you supposed to have six acupoints?" Huo Yuanlong said. "I know. Your Bengshan Fist has reached a high level, and your application of the fist technique is no worse than that of someone with seven acupoints. You've also learned a new skill these past two months—I can see that your breathing has changed when you walk."

Jiang Lan neither denied nor admitted it.

"There are still two weeks left." Huo Yuanlong held up two fingers. "Think it over. If it works out, the Canal Gang will give you 20% of the shares. From now on, 20% of the profits from the docks will be yours. Even if you quit later, your shares will still be there, and you'll receive dividends every year."

Two-tenths of the shares are dry stock.

Jiang Lan did the math in his head. Although the Canal Gang had been suppressed by the Flying Fish Gang, its foundation was still intact. A 20% share of the profits would amount to at least ten taels of silver per month, more than his monthly salary at the Military Equipment Department. And it wasn't a one-time thing; it was a long-term commitment.

"In two weeks?" he asked.

"Sixteen days," Huo Yuanlong said. "October 18th."

Jiang Lan stood up: "Let me think about it."

"Give me an answer within two days," Huo Yuanlong said. "If you don't respond, I'll have to find another way. The Grand Canal Gang can't afford to wait."

Jiang Lan nodded, turned around and went downstairs.

It was pitch black on Taiping Street. The streetlights weren't on, only the dim yellow light from the shop windows on both sides shone through. He walked slowly, his mind calculating.

Wang Yaozu has seven acupoints. He has six, and while he has mastered the Bengshan Fist, he hasn't yet reached the first level of Zangfu Jin (internal organ strength). In a head-on confrontation, his chances of winning are slim. But it's not impossible—his Baihui acupoint has already loosened, and with another ten days to half a month of practice, he might be able to reach six acupoints. He'll also be close to reaching the first level of Zangfu Jin; if he can master it in half a month, his ability to withstand blows will increase significantly.

The gap is not insurmountable.

The key lies in how you train during these sixteen days.

He pushed open the courtyard gate, and Cheng Erniang was collecting clothes, putting the folded clothes into a box by the light of the kitchen lamp.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"have eaten."

Jiang Lan went into his room, lit the oil lamp, and pulled the parchment scroll out from under his pillow. He had already memorized the incantation for the first level of the Visceral Strength technique, but he still wanted to review it again. He had also read the second level, "Shock the Five Viscera," twice. Although he couldn't practice it yet, he had a general idea of ​​what it entailed.

Six days later, he was to report to the Armed Forces Department for a day. He would spend the remaining fifteen days cultivating.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing. He inhaled, expanded his abdomen, held his breath, and exhaled. Once, twice, three times.

[Introduction to Visceral Strength (49/100)]

He opened his eyes and took out the oiled paper packet of Peiyuan Pills from the drawer. There were six pills left, which he had been reluctant to eat. He picked one out, put it in his mouth, and swallowed it.

The medicine spread, and heat surged from the stomach, rushing to the Baihui acupoint. The blocked area swelled up, like water surging through a sluice gate.

He couldn't stop. He continued to circulate his energy, letting the heat flow around the acupoints.

My head feels swollen, but it doesn't hurt.

He practiced the internal organ strengthening technique three more times, and stopped when the number reached 52. The effects of the Peiyuan Pill hadn't worn off yet, and he felt warm all over. He lay on his back on the bed, looking at the beam above his head.

Sixteen days. Seven acupoints, the first level of internal organ strength. At least one must be completed.

If it works, then agree to Huo Yuanlong's request. If it doesn't, then find another way—or refuse and let him find someone else.