Sunrise followed sunset, the morning bell gave way to the evening drum.
Two months passed in the blink of an eye. As the very first ray of dawn peeked over the eastern horizon, Shen Xiu was already standing in the courtyard, beginning his practice of the Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Skill.
It was said that the morning sun carried the purest breath, most nourishing to the heart and lungs. Shen Xiu did not fully understand the deeper principles, but he simply found that exercising in the morning felt much smoother and more invigorating than at night.
With every movement, his momentum steadily grew. He flowed through the thirteen postures one after another, smooth and natural as moving clouds and flowing water.
As he moved, the wind snapped against his clothes with a sharp whistling sound. His muscles bulged, and his strikes carried a fierce, chilling edge, faintly capturing a measure of Instructor Duan’s imposing style.
When his routine finally came to an end, Shen Xiu slowly reined in his breathing.
[Host: Shen Xiu]
[Cultivation: None]
[Talent: Heaven Rewards Diligence]
[Techniques: ▼]
[Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Skill: Second Realm — Initial Mastery 26.8%]
[Clone: Nine-Transformation Golden Cicada (First Transformation, Satiation: 8.0%)]
Staring at the glowing panel before him, Shen Xiu wore a look of satisfied contentment. Through this period of rigorous cultivation, his mastery of the Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Skill had grown increasingly profound, and he had pushed its progress into the Second Realm.
There was simply nothing more gratifying than being able to witness tangible progress every single day.
Driven by the constant physical conditioning, the muscles across his frame had begun to bulge slightly, giving him a sturdy, well-built appearance.
As the two months wore on, the initial wave of excitement had faded.
Far fewer disciples now practiced in the courtyard. This was partly due to the heavy physical toll, and partly because the lack of visible progress eventually drove people to despair.
The spacious courtyard, once packed to the brim with eager practitioners, had now grown sparse and empty. Even the friction and disputes over training space had entirely vanished.
The turning point had occurred seven days ago, leaving a chilling shadow in the hearts of many chore disciples. One particular cultivation fanatic had practiced relentlessly morning, noon, and night, seizing every spare moment to push himself to the limit.
The Vajra Palm, a purely external art, was fiercely violent and demanded immense physical stamina. Not even the wealthy registered disciples—who paid tuition and constantly supplemented their diets with medicinal tonics—dared to train with such reckless abandon. In the end, the fanatic ruptured his tendons, crippled a leg, and was summarily expelled from the martial hall.
What path in life remained for a half-crippled youth in this brutal and unforgiving era? Shen Xiu could still vividly recall the sight of that boy weeping bitterly as he collapsed on the ground.
Witnessing that disaster, some chore disciples chose to quit altogether, while others adopted a more regulated pace of training, abandoning their suicidal drive.
Shen Xiu, however, harbored no such worries; he maintained his original, measured workload.
The intensity of the Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Thirteen Postures was manageable, and combined with the medicinal nourishment fed back to him by the Golden Cicada consuming medicinal dregs, he barely managed to maintain a healthy balance.
While he could not claim his progress was extraordinarily fast, he carefully avoided overworking or exhausting his body.
As for the Golden Cicada's second transformation, Shen Xiu had no immediate plans. After all, the medicinal dregs now provided far less satiation than before, and it was not something that could be forced in a short time.
As for other forms of nourishment, those were luxuries he could only consider once he managed to rise above the rank of a chore disciple and accumulate more silver.
Having finished one round, Shen Xiu immediately began the second.
By this time, several other chore disciples practicing the same skill had gathered around him, observing his movements and posture.
They were not fools; they could easily tell good from bad. Anyone with eyes could see that Shen Xiu's Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Skill already possessed a touch of Instructor Duan's true spirit.
Now that the formal instruction sessions had ended, chore disciples like them had virtually no chance of receiving personal guidance. If they failed to observe and learn now, they would be squandering a golden opportunity.
After all, the instructors were extremely busy, spending most of their time on the formal disciples. They simply lacked the time and leisure to tutor chore disciples.
Shen Xiu did not keep his knowledge secret and let them watch as much as they pleased. Backed by the "Heaven Rewards Diligence" talent, he had no fear that they would surpass him or become his rivals.
Yet, watching them study his movements sparked a sudden idea in Shen Xiu's mind: he could offer guidance to other disciples within the hall on the Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Skill and charge a modest fee for his services.
Of course, he could forget about trying that with the chore disciples.
Every month, these chore disciples received a pitiful two coins of silver as a stipend, barely enough for their meager daily necessities, let alone anything else. If he dared ask them for payment in exchange for guidance, they would likely turn tail and run faster than anyone could catch them.
The registered disciples were an entirely different story.
The hundreds of disciples in Jínhóng Martial Hall, from top to bottom, were divided into direct disciples, formal disciples, registered disciples, and chore disciples.
Registered disciples and chore disciples held similar status, both needing to pass examinations to become formal disciples. The only difference was that chore disciples were supported financially by the martial hall, whereas registered disciples were mostly scions of wealthy families from the outside who paid a hefty sum of silver to learn martial arts and naturally lacked no money.
...
"Higher here, keep it higher! Then generate power from your waist, like this, just like this..."
"Your stance needs to step back a bit. When you step back, open up your arms, and then strike out with force..."
In a corner of the training ground, Shen Xiu was coaching a slender, refined-looking youth dressed in a green robe, guiding him through the key points and movements of the Dragon-Subduing and Tiger-Taming Thirteen Postures.
This youth was a newcomer—immature in appearance, frail and weak, looking more like an unarmed scholar. Shen Xiu had no idea why he had paid good money to learn martial arts, but the boy's talent was truly mediocre, struggling to keep pace with the learning speed of the other registered disciples.
He had some spare cash on hand, and a mild temperament.
After observing him for a few days, Shen Xiu had drawn these conclusions before stepping forward to propose tutoring him in exchange for a fee.
After all, most of the other registered disciples who could afford to pay for martial arts training came from decent backgrounds and were fiercely arrogant. Allowing a humble chore disciple to tutor them would bruise their pride, and Shen Xiu had no desire to court trouble by rashly approaching them.
From that day onward, Shen Xiu's midday break was cut in half, but in return, he gained a steady income of one coin of silver every two days.
A coin of silver was neither much nor little, but it was enough to buy some decent meat.
Just when Shen Xiu thought his silver income had finally stabilized, however, another unexpected incident occurred.
A few days after the frail youth entered the hall, a pot-bellied man clad in brocade robes marched in, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him away.
Halfway out, even inside the compound, they could hear the boy shouting slogans about abandoning the brush for the sword, and how only martial might could defend the Great Jing.
Only then did Shen Xiu learn that the boy had sneaked out from a city academy, fleeing in secret to pursue martial arts.
Two days later, just when Shen Xiu assumed the boy—whose name was Jian Shuhao—would not dare return, the youth appeared once more. Three or four days after that, he was dragged away yet again by his brocade-clad father.
This cycle repeated itself until it became a familiar spectacle within Jínhóng Martial Hall, and eventually, no one even found it strange.
Every time the boy's father came to drag him back, the disciples on the training ground would roar with laughter, jeering loudly that his old man was coming to haul him back to his books.
Yet none of this had much impact on Shen Xiu.
This boy named Jian Shuhao was remarkably trustworthy. No matter how abruptly he was hauled away by the ear, whenever he returned, his tuition payments were never short by a single coin.