From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

"That's enough!"

Zhao Lai snorted coldly and stopped Madam Ma: "Making such a racket in the middle of the night, don't you care if the neighbors laugh at you!"

"I..." Madam Ma still felt wronged and wanted to say a few more words, but when she met her father-in-law's sinister eyes, she immediately fell silent and retreated.

Zhao Lai ignored her, squinting at Zhu Hong's hand gripping Zhao Gui's. "This kid's always so sickly, where does he get such strength?" The thought had barely formed when a sudden jolt ran through him:

"That's it! How could they possibly mend that demon's corpse?"

Even the tiger corpse itself dared not mend it. It wasn't that it lacked skill, but rather that it possessed all the skills, yet it was powerless against a ferocious beast with a body of copper and iron.

Could it be that he...?

Zhao Lai was filled with doubts. His experience as a seasoned veteran told him that he absolutely could not afford to break off relations now.

He quickly plastered his usual smooth smile on his face and stepped forward: "Oh, it's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding!" Zhao Lai chuckled, and then lightly patted Zhu Hong's arm.

"Zhu Hong, harmony is precious, harmony is precious, loosen your grip."

Zhu Hong glanced at Zhao Lai out of the corner of his eye, pondering:

"It's not the right time to turn against each other now. If we're going to do it, we have to eliminate the root of the problem and leave no future troubles."

Moreover, Zhao Gui, a cowardly coward who is all bark and no bite, is not worth worrying about. What truly makes him wary is Zhao Lai's rarely seen eldest son—who is currently serving as the deputy instructor at the "Zhenyuan Martial Arts School" in the west of the city. That is the real tough nut to crack.

"You flatter me, sir," Zhu Hong said in a flash, withdrawing the force from his fingers and smiling.

"I was just joking with Brother Gui, don't take it seriously."

As his wrist loosened, Zhao Gui staggered backward. "You..." He was about to curse when he looked up and met Zhu Hong's cold, deep eyes. He swallowed the words back down.

"A joke is good, a joke is good!"

Zhao Lai stroked his few yellow whiskers, laughed heartily, as if the tense standoff had never happened. "Young people should have some energy." Then, his face hardened, and he turned to glare at Zhao Gui.

"What are you all standing there for? Get back inside!"

After scolding his son, he turned to Zhu Hong, putting on his kind face: "It's getting late. You've been busy these past few days, so you should get some rest."

"Thank you for your trouble, shopkeeper," Zhu Hong said calmly, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, it's good that you know what I mean..."

Seeing this, Zhao Lai made a few more perfunctory remarks before turning around and leading the unwilling Zhao Gui and his wife away.

"At least one knows when to advance and retreat. However," Zhu Hong shook his head slightly, watching their figures disappear into the night.

"Limited in vision, not up to par."

Just then, the sound of a clapper was heard coming from the alley outside the wall:

"It's past midnight!"

"Listen up, neighbors, the weather is tense and the wind is strong, be careful with fire."

Hearing the watchman's call, a wave of weariness washed over him. "Since I came here, I don't think I've had a full night's sleep yet," he thought, locking the door bolt securely. Leaning against the door, he rubbed his temples and chuckled.

Tomorrow is a holiday.

"Let's steal a day of leisure from this busy life."

……

The sound of the clapper gradually faded into the distance, and moonlight filtered through the branches.

Zhao Lai and his entourage returned to the main hall of the courtyard.

"Useless! Utterly useless!" As soon as he stepped across the threshold, Zhao Gui angrily slumped onto the edge of the kang (heated brick bed) and slammed his hand on the kang table.

"A tuberculosis disease has somehow gotten the better of me."

Madam Ma chimed in, raising her eyebrows, "Father, you saw it yourself! He even dared to be so cruel to our precious son! This is outrageous! If we don't discipline him, he might start taking advantage of our whole family!"

Ma's eyebrows shot up, and she chimed in from the side:

"Father, you saw it too! He even dared to be so cruel to Gui-ge'er! This is outrageous!" Her cheeks puffed out high.

"If we don't discipline them, they'll start taking advantage of our whole family!"

"Alright."

Zhao Lai closed the door behind him, his brows slowly furrowing. "When have you ever been able to think about anything? I'm asking you..."

He stared at his son, his eyes filled with anger and resentment at his son's lack of ambition.

"What happened when Zhu Hong grabbed your wrist just now? Couldn't you break free?"

Zhao Gui muttered, "I can't break free."

"Is it that you don't want to earn it?" Zhao Lai pressed.

"How could that be!" Zhao Gui's face flushed red with grievance. "I don't know where that kid got his strength from. I... had no choice."

"Fool, don't you understand?" A vein throbbed faintly on Zhao Lai's forehead.

"A consumptive man with such strength, capable of mending even a tiger skin all by himself? Did you really think he was a pushover to be easily manipulated?"

The moment Zhao Guijing's father thought of this, a chill suddenly ran down his spine, straight to the top of his head: "Father, you said..." His voice trembled, not daring to think any further:

"This sickly fellow can't possibly be a martial artist, can he?"

Seeing that he had finally understood, Zhao Lai's bulging veins on his forehead subsided slightly, but he still kept a sullen face: "It's still uncertain whether it's right or wrong right now. Tomorrow," he said, raising his eyes, a calculating glint in them:

"Go to the West City Martial Arts School and tell your older brother what happened today."

"Okay, okay!" Zhao Gui nodded quickly.

"I'll go first thing tomorrow morning."

……

The next day at the hour of Yin (3-5 AM).

The narrow courtyard was still shrouded in darkness, with only a faint glimmer of light on the horizon outlining the golden sun.

Zhu Hongli stood in the courtyard, slowly straightened up, his spine straightened like a javelin, and exhaled a long breath, withdrawing from the stance.

"This is the first time in a long time that I've gotten up at the crack of dawn to practice martial arts."

He remarked with emotion.

Since breaking through the barrier yesterday using that demon corpse and officially entering the "Martial Arts Student" flesh-refining realm, this body seems to have been transformed. After only two or three hours of light sleep, it is already full of energy.

"However... the benefits of pile driving are very limited."

Zhu Hong raised his hand to brush away the fine frost that had somehow formed on his shoulder, and murmured.

With the selection of martial arts students imminent, and given that everyone is at least a martial arts student, and many have already honed their skills to a minor level, I, a novice, would likely struggle to even make a decent ripple if thrown into the fray.

But he was determined to win this battle.

Only by holding onto this identity as a raft can one access better opportunities in the future and avoid being hindered in getting things done.

"It seems I need to master the first move of the Tiger Crouching Fist as soon as possible."

Martial arts—based on their power and mystery, the level of their artistic conception, and the difficulty of their cultivation, can be roughly divided into five categories: "ordinary skills," "martial skills," "ultimate skills," "supernatural powers," and "immortal arts."

Each level is further subdivided into four grades according to their level of sophistication and depth:

[Top Grade] [Superior Grade] [Middle Grade] [Inferior Grade]

Ordinary martial arts practitioners can only learn rudimentary techniques, focusing on the application of moves. However, "Crouching Tiger Fist," as a low-grade martial art, has begun to involve unique methods of circulating qi and blood, greatly increasing its power.

If you can chew it up thoroughly and master it, your chances of passing the exam will definitely increase significantly.

"Martial arts training is not just about muscles, bones, skin, and fascia; it also emphasizes the cultivation of mind, spirit, and essence." Zhu Hong concentrated his mind, and the essential principles of the boxing manual flowed slowly through his heart:

"This 'Tiger Leaps Over the Ravine' technique trains the form but utilizes the intention."

"The form should be like a tiger crouching low and gathering its strength, and the intention should be as fierce as a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey. It's not about relying on brute force to charge forward; the key is to accumulate enough power."

"A single, explosive strike..."

With this in mind, he no longer hesitated.

His entire body suddenly bent forward, almost level with the ground. His spine arched like a great dragon, writhing wildly and emitting a teeth-grinding "crunch—" sound.

The fascia then tightens, stretches, and then slowly relaxes.

The cycle repeats itself...

Until:

As dawn breaks, a pale golden-red hue spreads over the narrow courtyard wall.

Zhu Hong then slowly straightened up, abandoning his prostrate posture, and sighed softly, "That was really tiring."

He felt aches, numbness, and swelling all over his body, as if he had been disassembled and reassembled.

"Let's stop practicing here for today."

……