From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

"Hey, this is interesting."

Beside Zhu Hong, a burly man as strong as a black bear rubbed his large, fan-like hands together and grinned, saying, "This slippery texture reminds me of the catfish that have become spirits in the river back home. They don't look impressive, but they're incredibly slippery. You really can't handle them without some skill."

He turned his head to look at Zhu Hong, revealing two rows of yellow teeth:

"Brother, may I ask your name?"

"Zhu Hong".

"Good name! Red pig. My name is Stone Mound, I'm a porter at the North City Wharf." The man patted his hard chest and laughed.

"If we pass the initial test and get to the actual competition, shall we help each other out?" he said, winking.

"To avoid being tripped up by those rich young men."

"We'll talk about it later." Zhu Hong nodded slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

This man appeared simple and honest, but his eyes held a shrewdness akin to that of an old turtle. Few could truly be fools to have survived the treacherous waters of the docks, a place teeming with all sorts of monsters and scoundrels.

"Second group, thirty people, step forward!"

Zhu Hong was among them.

He stepped forward as if strolling leisurely, and found a corner where he stood on a dark blue stone lock.

The stone lock felt icy cold to the touch, and its surface was indeed unusually slippery. When I pressed it with my fingertips, the surface was indeed unusually slippery, and I could hardly grip it.

"Chicken and Goose Lane, Zhu Hong."

A clerk holding a "judge's pen" took notes.

Jiang Chengzhi, who was not far away and whose turn it was not yet, saw him enter the exam, raised his eyebrows and glanced at him sideways, his eyes full of mockery. He even raised his hand and made a gesture of slashing in the air, which looked like an intimate gesture of slaying a demon.

Zhu Hong ignored it.

He closed his eyes to rest, and the mental techniques of "Iron Chain Across the River" flowed naturally to him.

The energy travels up the spine segment by segment, passing the "Jianjing" acupoint, passing through the "arm" meridian, and finally flowing powerfully into the fingertips, with a faint warm current rolling around.

"Hold the Lock!"

Liu Kui's voice boomed like thunder.

"Ha—!" The shouts rose as the thirty people exerted their strength at the same time.

Zhu Hong remained calm and composed, his waist and hips slightly lowered, his feet sinking deep into the snow like the roots of an old tree.

He didn't use brute force to lift it, but instead used his five fingers like hooks to press against the lower edge of the stone lock's handle with his fingertips, pushing the force like waves. This is a rudimentary application of the "Unloading Wave Force" in the "Iron Lock Across the River Skill," which emphasizes using gentleness instead of force and penetration instead of gripping.

"rise."

The stone lock was lifted off the ground and hung steadily at a height of one foot.

Zhu Hong's arm muscles were slightly tense, but there was no trembling. His breathing was long and even, almost imperceptible, and his gaze was fixed straight ahead, as if he were an old monk in deep meditation.

Let the fierce winds howl and the turbulent waves surge, I remain unmoved.

……

A stick of incense sat on the table, its smoke curling upwards.

Time passed by leisurely.

Five or six people in the room had their faces flushed red like boiled shrimp, sweat pouring out like syrup, and wisps of white steam rising from their heads.

One of them suddenly groaned, his breathing becoming erratic, and the slippery stone lock slipped from his grasp and slammed down with a dull thud, nearly crushing his own foot into a pulp. Two other men began to sway, like candles flickering in the wind, and were sternly ordered by a nearby soldier to put down the stone lock.

Zhu Hong, however, felt increasingly relaxed.

At first, the stone lock was slippery, but after all the strength was channeled into his arms, it seemed to take root in his palms and stick firmly to one side.

"That set of stance training..."

On the viewing platform, Magistrate Shen sat upright in his armchair, holding a hand warmer. His gaze swept across the training ground, finally settling on Zhu Hong, his brow twitching almost imperceptibly: "His aura is deep and focused, his stance training solid; he doesn't seem like a self-taught practitioner. Moreover," he paused, "..."

"Does it look familiar?"

"Sir, this young man is named Zhu Hong, nineteen years old, lives in Chicken and Goose Lane, and works as an apprentice at Zhao's Corpse-Sealing Shop." The registrar beside him immediately understood and spoke up:

"The tiger skin that Wang Zhenshan reported three days ago was the one he peeled and sewed."

"A mortician?" A hint of surprise flashed across Judge Shen's eyes.

"interesting."

……

"The fragrance has faded—"

"stop!"

Liu Kui shouted.

Zhu Hong slowly lowered the stone lock, flexed his wrists, and felt his blood and energy flowing smoothly. He looked around; of the thirty people in his group, only twenty-one remained standing, the rest having been eliminated.

The battle was fierce.

"Not bad, young man!"

Shidunzi also passed the test and was grinning as he gave him a thumbs up.

"You're not bad either," Zhu Hong replied dismissively.

Immediately afterwards:

Group 3, Group 5, Group 7...

The selection process was like a relentless sifting of sand, with no mercy. By noon, of the more than one hundred participants, only about sixty had passed.

"Those who pass the test, sit quietly and adjust your breathing for half an hour."

Liu Kui seemed oblivious to this, as if he'd seen it all before. He simply waved his hand and announced, "At the beginning of the hour of Wei (1-3 PM), we will proceed to the second stage: a martial arts demonstration!"

The midday sun was thin and weak, offering no warmth when it shone on me.

Zhu Hong sat cross-legged in the snow, took out a dry, hard flatbread from his robes, and slowly ate it with the cold water from his leather bag. Around him, the martial arts students who had passed the test gathered in twos and threes, exchanging tips, praising each other, and some even took out dried meat and pastries from their bags to share.

These are all people from wealthy families.

The place around Chi Yejun was the liveliest, with seven or eight young men in brocade robes surrounding him, while servants brought out small red clay stoves to warm wine and roast meat.

"Here you go, young man."

Shi Dunzi leaned over and handed over half a piece of dark, mushy braised meat: "My wife made it. It doesn't look good, but it tastes alright."

Zhu Hong accepted the gift, thanked him, and took a bite.

Salty, savory, and substantial—perfect for replenishing energy. The two ate meat and munched on flatbread while drinking cold water, chatting idly.

"Which martial arts routine are you planning to practice later, brother?"

Shi Dunzi lowered his voice: "I chose the 'Five-Step Mountain-Crushing Force'. This style is wild and suits my brute strength."

"Taizu Long Fist".

"That flower stand?" Shi Dunzi was taken aback.

"Brother, I'm not trying to be rude, but this set of boxing looks impressive, but to really master it, it'll take three to five years of practice. And..."

Before he could finish speaking, he saw that Zhu Hong looked calm, so he awkwardly stopped talking and shook his head to himself.