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

In the backyard of the Cangsong Martial Arts School, the bluestone ground was scorching hot from the sun, but the corridor was cool.

Shi Yunshan sat upright in a pearwood armchair, his posture ramrod straight, his brows and eyes exuding a restrained arrogance.

Zhou Liang stood half a step to his side, his posture as straight as a pine tree, his arms hanging naturally, the veins on the back of his hands visible, and his knuckles covered with thick calluses, marks left by years of practicing boxing and colliding with hard objects.

Zhou Liang said, "The nine acupoints are stable. The energy flows smoothly without any stagnation. At the Golden Scale Gathering a month from now, I, Cangsong, am almost certain to win."

People in the county town all understand the significance of the Golden Scale Society.

In the early days, someone fished out a piece of golden scales the size of a water vat from the long river outside the city. The scales shimmered and were as hard as iron, causing a sensation throughout the city. Later, the name of the Golden Scale Society came into being.

Held every three years, the event brings together disciples from the five major martial arts schools to compete in three rounds of matches to determine the winner. While it appears to be a martial arts exchange, it is in reality a battle for students, territory, and a determination of one's place in the martial arts world.

The winning martial arts school will be packed with students for the next three years, with people eager to learn martial arts crowding to open its doors. Tuition fees and resources will flow in continuously, and its influence will rise accordingly. The losing martial arts school will not only fail to attract new disciples, but even its old disciples will switch to other schools.

Shi Yunshan finally slowly raised his hand, his fingertips pinching the handle of the teacup, and took a sip of the slightly cool tea. His expression was arrogant, as if victory was already in his grasp.

"Liu Changqing might not dare to send anyone to fight." He put down his teacup, the porcelain bottom striking the wooden table with a crisp sound. A mocking smile slowly curved his lips. "I know Liu Changqing best. He's incredibly patient and always knows how to back down and protect himself. If he doesn't dare to come, we don't need to force him."

He paused, then raised his voice slightly, revealing a ruthless determination: "We'll shout at the empty arena in front of the entire city's spectators. If once isn't enough, we'll shout it ten times! Let the whole of Changping see that Guangchang Martial Arts School, from top to bottom, is nothing but cowardly cowards who dare to do something but not admit it!"

"At that time, Liu Changqing will not only lose face for himself, but for the entire Guangchang Martial Arts School. Guangchang Martial Arts School will have no place to stand."

On the solid wood chair beside him, Zhao Yinchuan closed his eyes, slowly twirling a string of sandalwood prayer beads between his fingertips. The beads were round and smooth, gleaming softly from being rubbed.

He was a guest elder invited by the Zhao family at great expense. He was a master of martial arts and one of the organizers of the Golden Scale Gathering. He had a lot of influence among the five major martial arts schools and could influence the course of the competition with a single word.

Upon hearing Shi Yunshan's words, he abruptly stopped turning his prayer beads, and they ceased to spin.

Zhao Yinchuan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as an eagle's, sweeping over Zhou Liang beside him. His tone was calm, yet every word was precise: "Liu Changqing doesn't not want to fight, he just has no one to fight. Of all his disciples, the only one who is truly capable and can step onto the stage is Jiang Lan, who ranks ninth on the C-rank list."

"He only has six acupoints of cultivation, and his talent is mediocre. Even if he managed to kill Wang Yaozu by chance, it would only be a matter of opportunism. In the face of absolute suppression of realm, he is nothing to fear."

Shi Yunshan nodded slightly, agreeing with Zhao Yinchuan's judgment, then got up and slowly walked to the window.

Push open half of the wooden window, and outside is the training ground of the Cangsong Martial Arts School.

More than thirty disciples, dressed in uniform, stood in neat formation, their fists and feet striking in unison, their movements synchronized, the wind whistling through them. Together, they resembled a sharp forest of blades, their imposing presence showcasing the grandeur of the martial arts school.

"Last month, we opened our gates wide and accepted eleven new disciples, all of whom are promising talents with solid foundations." Shi Yunshan looked at the scene in the martial arts arena, but his tone could not hide his smugness. "On the other hand, I heard that Guangchang Martial Arts School only accepted three new disciples in a whole month, and they were all mediocre."

"Guangchang was once one of the top martial arts schools in Changping City, but now it is far from what it used to be and has completely fallen. The Golden Scale Society was the last straw that broke the camel's back."

Zhao Yinchuan twirled the prayer beads between his fingers, a calculating glint in his eyes, and said calmly, "After the Golden Scale Gathering ends, the Zhao family will take over the shops around Guangchang. At that time, Master Shi can just focus on taking on disciples, and the Zhao family will take care of the rest."

Shi Yunshan turned around and glanced at him. The two looked at each other, needing no further words; their mutual benefit was already an unspoken understanding.

Zhou Liang stood still, clenching his fists, his arms surging with hidden power, his whole body exuding an unstoppable fighting spirit, just waiting for the Golden Scales to start the battle so that he could completely crush all the martial artists.

……

Meanwhile, at Guangchang Martial Arts School.

The courtyard was silent. The wind blew through the dilapidated eaves, stirring up the fallen leaves on the ground, carrying a desolate chill.

Liu Changqing had been standing silently in front of that old wooden stake for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

He didn't practice his punches or exert any force; he just stood there quietly, his hands hanging at his sides, his eyes fixed on the wooden stake in front of him. This wooden stake had been used for three whole years; it was left over from the heyday of the Guangchang Martial Arts School. The surface of the stake was pitted and covered with fist and palm marks of varying depths.

There are the fierce fist marks left by Zhao Heng when he was young, arrogant, and looked down on everyone.

There are also the steady palm marks left by Sun Gengsan's diligent practice day and night.

Furthermore, Jiang Lan's calm and reserved demeanor, along with his steady progress, left behind sharp finger marks.

The deepest mark among them was left by Zhao Heng. Back then, when he was at the peak of his eight acupoint strength, he smashed a wooden stake with a single punch, shattering the core of the stake. That was the last glory of Guangchang Martial Arts School.

But now, the person who left this fist mark has lost his mind after being defeated in the ring. He left the martial arts school in a mad manner and his whereabouts are unknown.

Things have changed, and people are no longer the same; it's only been a few short months.

Liu Changqing had a few strands of white hair at his temples, his back was more hunched than before, and he exuded an indescribable weariness.

Liu Yun carried a bowl of brewed medicine and walked out of the backyard quietly, making almost no sound so as not to disturb her father.

She stopped half a step behind Liu Changqing and said softly, "Father, the medicine is ready. Drink it while it's hot."

Liu Changqing didn't turn around, his voice deep and hoarse, with a barely perceptible huskiness: "Put it on the veranda."

Liu Yun did as she was told, gently placing the medicine pot on the railing of the corridor. She stood there quietly, watching her father's lonely figure, feeling both anxious and bitter.

She remained silent for a moment, but finally couldn't hold back any longer and spoke again, her tone anxious: "Father, the whole city is talking about the Golden Scale Society. What are your plans? We can't keep dragging this on like this."

The air froze instantly, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Liu Changqing remained silent for a long time before slowly uttering three words: "Wait a little longer."

"Wait? How long do we have to wait!" Liu Yun raised her voice, her eyes reddening, but she forced back her tears. Every word she spoke hit the nail on the head regarding the martial arts school's predicament, without a trace of falsehood. "Sun Gengsan's old injuries have damaged his meridians, making him completely unfit for the ring; Shen Qing joined the school the latest, his cultivation is still shallow, he hasn't even broken through his six acupoints, he's hardly capable of handling important tasks; Li Yan is impetuous and ambitious, he's completely unreliable in actual combat!"

"Among those in the arena who can fight and step onto the stage, only Jiang Lan is capable! But he only has six acupoints, while Zhou Liang has nine—a difference of three levels in cultivation. How can we possibly win this battle?"

Liu Changqing slowly turned around and looked at his daughter. Liu Yun bit her lower lip so hard it almost bled. Looking at the increasingly dilapidated martial arts school and her father's exhausted appearance, she felt a deep sense of helplessness and anxiety.

He opened his mouth, but in the end only said, "You go ahead and do your work. I know what I'm doing."

The weariness in his voice was almost overflowing; it was the helplessness of struggling to keep a martial arts school on the verge of bankruptcy, with no other options.

Looking at her father's pale face, Liu Yun finally couldn't bear to press him any further. She pursed her lips, turned around and left, her thin figure conveying a deep sense of helplessness.

In the front yard, Jiang Lan was diligently practicing her boxing.

He was not distracted at all; every move of his Mountain-Crushing Fist was fierce and powerful, penetrating deep into his bones. The sound of his fists and feet cutting through the air was exceptionally clear in the quiet courtyard.

After a series of punches, fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his chin. The Baihui acupoint on the top of his head throbbed faintly, with tingling sensations—a sign that his internal energy was about to break through.

He finished his stance, stood firmly in place, and regulated his breathing.

Sun Gengsan walked over from the weapons rack, carrying a rusty longsword.

He repeatedly wiped the scabbard with his sleeve, brushing away the dust little by little, but the scabbard remained dark and rusty, and no matter how much he wiped it, it could not regain its former luster, just like the Guangchang Martial Arts School today, which can never return to its former glory.

"Junior Brother Jiang, have you heard about the Golden Scales Society?" Sun Gengsan stopped wiping and looked at Jiang Lan, his tone full of dejection.

Jiang Lan withdrew her hands from the well water, shook the water droplets from her fingertips, and said in a flat, emotionless voice, "Hmm."

"Master still hasn't said whether he'll participate or not, he keeps putting it off." Sun Gengsan put his longsword back on the weapon rack, his voice low, as if talking to himself, "Last year at the Golden Scale Gathering, it was Zhao Heng who fought, and with his cultivation, he held up the martial arts school and prevented us from losing face. This year..."

Before he could finish speaking, the rest of his words turned into a helpless sigh.

Jiang Lan didn't reply. She slowly picked up her outer garment, draped it over her shoulders, and fastened the buttons one by one.

Sun Gengsan suddenly took a few steps closer, lowered his voice, and said in a serious tone with a hint of worry: "Junior Brother Jiang, I've heard reliable rumors outside that Zhou Liang has emerged from seclusion and steadily entered the Nine Acupoints Realm. Shi Yunshan personally protected him throughout the process, and his cultivation is unfathomable..."

Jiang Lan paused slightly for a moment while fastening her clothes, then resumed her actions as usual, her expression remaining calm and showing no sign of panic: "Understood."

"Aren't you afraid at all?" Sun Gengsan frowned, full of confusion. Facing a master of nine acupoints, anyone else would have panicked, but Jiang Lan remained calm.

Jiang Lan raised her eyes, looking at him calmly. Her eyes were clear, yet revealed the sober understanding of a martial artist from the lower classes. She spoke each word with composure and strength: "Will fear solve the problem? Will it make Zhou Liang give up the arena? Will it allow Guangchang to escape this calamity?"

Sun Gengsan was speechless for a moment, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, unable to utter another word.

Yes, fear is useless, hiding is useless, this is their fate, the bottom-level martial artists, there is never a way out.

As the sun sets and dusk settles, the shadow of Guangchang Martial Arts School stretches very long.

Jiang Lan finished his practice and prepared to leave the hall and go home. As he walked through the front yard and passed the door of the living room, he noticed that the door was not closed properly, leaving a narrow gap.

He paused slightly and peered through the crack.

Liu Changqing was sitting alone in the hall. The tea in front of him had long since gone cold, but he remained motionless, sitting quietly.

The dim light shone through the window, casting his shadow on the wall. He stood motionless, like a lifeless clay sculpture, guarding the dilapidated martial arts school, guarding endless helplessness.

Jiang Lan didn't stop or say anything, and walked straight out of the gate of Guangchang Martial Arts School.

The number of pedestrians on the street gradually decreased, and the street vendors began to pack up. Occasionally, passersby would pass by the Guangchang Martial Arts School and couldn't help but cast strange glances. Whispers and discussions drifted into my ears intermittently—all of them were idle talk about waiting to see the Guangchang Golden Scales Association fail and go bankrupt completely.

……