Bao Lin’s hands trembled slightly as he spoke, his usual confidence drained by the weight of the news. “Sir… after extensive searches in the forest, we… we found the remains of the two youths.” His voice faltered, and he glanced nervously at Han Qin. “Although their bodies were stripped of all belongings and torn apart by wild beasts, our master tracker concluded… it’s likely they were ambushed and killed. However… we could not determine with certainty who was responsible.”

  The room fell into tense silence. Even among the lakeys, a chill ran down spines at the implication: someone in the wild had the skill and audacity to eliminate two of Iron Fang’s operatives without leaving a trace.

  Han Qin’s eyes burned with fury, the veins at his temples twitching as he clenched his fists. For a moment, it seemed he might unleash his rage on Bao Lin himself. But after a deep breath, he restrained himself, letting the anger simmer beneath a controlled mask.

  “Those two fools… they owed me quite a few silver,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low but sharp with irritation. “Damn it… a wasted investment. Could they have provoked some powerful expert?”

  Han Qin leaned back, weighing his options carefully. Though the youths had shown promise, they were merely lakeys—sacrificing more resources to investigate their deaths in full would be imprudent. His eyes shifted to Bao Lin.

  “Stop investigating for now,” he said firmly. “But keep your eyes and ears open for anything suspicious. If you learn anything… report it to me immediately.”

  Bao Lin exhaled, relief flooding his posture. He bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord. I will follow your instructions.”

  Evening settled over the Silver Crane Hall, the courtyard bathed in the warm amber of lantern light. Chen Mo wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at the panel. Silver Crane Stance 51/100.

  Twenty-one points in three days—his progress was steady, measurable, and precise. He calculated quietly in his mind: another seven days, and he could master the stance fully. A small smile tugged at his lips; the thought of finally crossing that threshold filled him with a rare sense of anticipation.

  Jia Tao approached Chen Mo as the last traces of sunlight faded from the Silver Crane courtyard.

  “So, how’s your progress?” he asked, leaning casually against the railing.

  “Same as usual,” Chen Mo replied, eyes on the panel. “Nothing new on the qi sensing front.”

  Jia Tao lowered his voice and glanced around before whispering, “Same here… most of the trainees haven’t made a move. Except for those three.”

  “You mean the youths from the martial experts’ families?” Chen Mo asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Jia Tao nodded, a trace of envy in his expression. “Yeah… even Masters Lian and wei are paying extra attention to them. Damn it.”

  Chen Mo shrugged lightly. “Just keep training seriously. You’ll get there too.”

  Jia Tao let out a frustrated sigh. “If only I could reach higher levels without all this hard work… I haven’t had a moment to relax in ages.”

  Chen Mo glanced at him with a hint of amusement. It seemed the notoriously lazy Jia Tao had no choice but to be here, and the reality of the Silver Crane Hall was finally catching up with him.

  Jia Tao suddenly looked at Chen Mo with curiosity.

  “By the way, what about you? Why abandon a peaceful village life? You could relax, marry a wife, live off the mountains…” He paused, then clicked his tongue. “Instead you gambled fifteen taels. You really have guts.”

  Chen Mo’s expression did not change.

  “Village life isn’t as easy as you imagine. Bandits roam freely. Families barely manage to survive.”

  “Bandits?” Jia Tao frowned. “I’ve never heard of such things. Even the Iron Fang Gang is completely legitimate inside the city.”

  “They wouldn’t dare operate near the city,” Chen Mo replied calmly. “They only bully weak villagers.”

  Jia Tao’s face darkened with indignation.

  “How hateful. A bunch of cowards. If we succeed in martial arts one day, we can wipe them out for the people.”

  Chen Mo fell silent.

  For the people?

  How na?ve.

  For someone living his second life, he knew better. Those mountain bandits were never acting alone. Behind them stood powerful figures rooted deep within the city itself. This world acknowledged only strength. There was no room for chivalrous fantasies. Heroes who charged forward for lofty ideals were usually the first to die.

  Chen Mo kept those thoughts to himself and returned to training, his posture steady, his heart colder than before.

  Seven days of relentless training had passed. Chen Mo’s wallet had shrunk by twenty-one taels. If anyone back in his village knew about his expenses, they would have scolded him for extravagance—but to him, it was only a drop in the bucket.

  He sat in his room, eyes fixed on the panel. Silver Crane Stance 99/100.

  Without hesitation, he stood. He would make the final point now, rather than wait for tomorrow’s session. His reasoning was simple: he didn’t want others to witness his breakthrough—or at least, he wanted to observe first before deciding whether to inform the masters.

  He began to perform the stance. Every movement felt different this time—lighter, sharper, charged with something he had never truly felt before. And then, suddenly, the ever-absent, familiar sensation returned.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In an instant, months of practice, sweat, and repeated motion compressed into his body. A burning stream of energy surged through his limbs, circulating like molten fire, growing stronger with every pass. The sensation built, intensified, until a sharp pang jolted him from the reverie.

  The panel glowed. Silver Crane Stance – Mastered.

  Qi and blood sensing—he had achieved it. Chen Mo felt power coursing through him, a clarity and strength beyond what he had imagined. Yet, despite the triumph, a frustrating realization followed: he could not yet circulate the energy throughout his entire body. The method for true skin refinement remained beyond his grasp.

  He exhaled slowly, a mix of exhilaration and caution. Victory had been reached—but the path ahead, toward mastery, was still long.

  Chen Mo stepped out of his room, eyes drifting to a small boulder nearby. It looked ordinary, but he knew its weight—at least two hundred jin. He approached it, flexing his fingers, and then lifted.

  The boulder rose easily, almost as if it had no weight at all. A grin tugged at his lips. This was undeniable—he had crossed a threshold. He was strong enough, skilled enough, and today, he could finally claim his status as a formal disciple.

  The decision to reveal his breakthrough tomorrow was already made. There was no reason to wait. Lingering in the outer courtyard would waste precious time and energy. If he became a formal disciple now, he would gain access to the full resources and benefits of the Silver Crane Hall—and he could train more efficiently.

  A sense of satisfaction coursed through him. Finally, his months of labor, hunting, and disciplined practice had a tangible reward. The path ahead was still long, but the first step into the real world of martial cultivation had been taken.

  The next morning, Chen Mo left his room and headed toward the Silver Crane Hall. The courtyard was already bustling with youths lining up for morning training. Today, Master Lian was on duty.

  As the training commenced, Chen Mo remained still, waiting for the right moment. Time passed, incense smoke curling lazily into the air, until he noticed Master Lian moving along the lines, inspecting the trainees with practiced scrutiny.

  Seizing the moment, Chen Mo began circulating his qi and blood vigorously. Heat rose beneath his skin, flushing his body a deep red. The sudden display caught the attention of the youths nearby. Murmurs spread, and Jia Tao, closest to him, couldn’t help but call out,

  “Chen Mo! You—”

  The commotion did not escape Master Lian’s eyes. He stepped forward swiftly, scrutinizing Chen Mo, his gaze sharp and unyielding. After a long, appraising silence, he said with a rare note of excitement:

  “Good… good… good. Unexpected. A very good surprise.”

  He waited until Chen Mo stabilized before speaking again.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  Chen Mo acted as if he had just noticed the master. “This disciple is Chen Mo, Master.”

  “When did you join the hall?” Master Lian asked, his tone calm but curious.

  “Fourteen days ago, sir,” Chen Mo replied.

  “Good talent,” Master Lian said, nodding. “Go to the cafeteria. Tell them I ordered a bowl of body-nourishing soup for you, and wait there for me.”

  Chen Mo bowed slightly. “Thank you, Master. I will do as you say.”

  As Chen Mo made his way to the cafeteria, Jia Tao fell in step beside him, a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations, Chen Mo! I knew you’d make it eventually. Guess all that hard work paid off!”

  Chen Mo allowed himself a faint smile, the corners of his lips curling just enough to show his quiet satisfaction. “Thanks, Jia Tao. Don’t worry, you’ll catch up soon enough. Keep training steadily, and we’ll see where we stand later,” he said, his tone calm but encouraging.

  The other youths glanced at him with a mix of curiosity and surprise, whispering among themselves as Chen Mo passed. He ignored them, focusing instead on the warm morning air and the promise of the bowl of body-nourishing soup waiting for him—a reward earned through sweat, persistence, and the first true taste of his own potential.

  Chen Mo settled onto a bench in the cafeteria, the bowl of body-nourishing soup placed carefully before him. The rich, bitter aroma rose in a warm wave, and he lifted the spoon to his lips. Each sip seemed to seep directly into his veins, reinforcing the qi and blood he had painstakingly awakened yesterday. A flush of energy spread through his limbs, a steady, invigorating warmth that made every muscle tingle with newfound strength.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, allowing the quiet pride of his achievement to settle within him. Just as he was about to take another spoonful, a shadow fell across the table.

  Chen Mo opened his eyes to see Master Lian standing there, a document held firmly in one hand, his expression unreadable but commanding. “Chen Mo,” Master Lian said, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the cafeteria, “follow me. There’s something you need to attend to.”

  Chen Mo nodded, setting the bowl down, his curiosity piqued but his composure intact. Rising, he fell into step behind Master Lian, the warmth of the soup still coursing through his body, steadying his breath, and sharpening his focus for whatever awaited him next.