The night was deep, in Tianchi Town.
Within the grand mansion of the Zhao family, sounds of punching a sandbag echoed. Zhao Jin, clad in a fitted outfit, rained rapid blows upon the sandbag. Beside him stood a middle-aged man with his hands clasped behind his back. He exuded a powerful martial aura, a hint of detached arrogance in his demeanor. He spoke calmly, "Your punches must be heavy. Every strike should be with your full might. If a martial artist dares not throw a full punch, fearing they might injure themselves, how can you expect to climb higher?"
"Yes, Master!"
Zhao Jin's punches grew more potent.
Beside them, Zhao Jin's father frowned, his brow furrowed. "Immortal Master, can my Jin truly achieve mastery and become a martial artist of the first realm?"
The middle-aged man let out a cold laugh. "What is it, Zhao Tai? You invited me here to teach your son boxing, yet you doubt my techniques? If that's the case, you are free to seek someone else!"
Zhao Tai quickly clasped his fists in apology. "That is not my intention, it's just... my Jin is rather slow to grasp martial arts. He's already sixteen and still hasn't entered the martial artist realm. I'm a bit worried."
"Worrying about things that will never happen!"
The middle-aged man scoffed. "Your son might be slow, but my boxing is not. As long as he diligently practices, let alone a first-realm martial artist, what if he breaks through to become a second-realm martial artist in a short period? However, you must prepare a batch of high-quality medicinal herbs. Otherwise, if his bones and tendons are damaged during training, residual injuries and after-effects might affect his entire martial arts journey."
"Yes, as you command!"
Not far away, Zhao Jin's punches grew fiercer with each one. The Fierce Tiger Fist technique surged like thunder. As he delivered his blows, his mind was filled with the image of being defeated by Lin Zhao with a single punch. Thus, his punches became faster and more powerful. Finally, amidst a sheen of sweat, a slight sound echoed, and the young man's mind suddenly cleared, his Qi sea expanding.
He had broken through, becoming a first-realm martial artist!
"Father!"
Zhao Jin was overjoyed, turning to look at his father. "I... I am a first-realm martial artist? Master, I am a first-realm martial artist?"
"Mm."
The middle-aged man nodded with a smile. "It's merely the first step. Is it worth such great joy? Go immediately and take a medicinal bath to cleanse your body of impurities. Continue practicing your punches in an hour. I want you to break through to the Blood Circulation realm within ten days."
"Yes, Master!"
Zhao Jin was ecstatic. On his way to the bathing room, he clenched his fists, a slight smile curving his lips. "Lin Zhao, if I don't kill you, I'm not Zhao Jin. Just you wait!"
...
Three days later.
Lin Zhao returned to Tianchi Ridge from the beacon tower. After reporting at the military camp, he was granted a month's leave. The reserve forces of Tianchi Army have always operated this way, allowing the youths to train themselves without military interference.
When Lin Zhao returned to his ancestral home, the dried venison that had been hung out to dry was almost fully cured. Fortunately, it hadn't rained these past few days. He brought it all back into the house for storage. Then, carrying his fishing rod and creel, he hurried towards Baiyu Stream. As expected, after not returning for three days, the V-shaped trap had yielded over ten fish, including three large ones. This was enough to dry into plenty of fish jerky, and he could even sell some at the tavern for money.
However, Lin Zhao had been diligently practicing his punches recently, expending a great deal of energy. His food consumption had also increased. As Chu Huaixi had said, for a martial artist to ascend, they must eat meat. Vegetarianism alone wouldn't suffice; it couldn't provide the necessary energy for martial arts training. Therefore, it was best to process these fish into jerky for later consumption.
He mused to himself, sitting on the stone bridge, and began to cast his line again.
It wasn't until evening, when school let out, that Zhang Liucheng, who was wildly swinging a wooden sword, arrived. He didn't rush home and instead squatted beside Lin Zhao, watching him fish.
"Lin Zhao."
Zhang Liucheng, without restraint, asked, "What does it feel like to be poor?"
Lin Zhao thought for a moment and replied, "Having enough for the current meal but not the next. Even worse, not having enough for the current meal, and when your stomach rumbles with hunger, wishing you could gnaw on the dirt on the ground."
"That does sound quite miserable..."
Zhang Liucheng said, "What was the worst you've ever been?"
"There was nothing I couldn't eat..."
Lin Zhao pursed his lips. "When I was six, my family had already run out of food. I was so hungry that I couldn't stand it. I secretly dug up winter sweet potatoes from other people's fields on the mountain ridge. You can't eat too many of those raw. That day, because I was so hungry, I ate too much and got poisoned by the winter sweet potatoes. I still remember my mother's crying..."
Zhang Liucheng was stunned and murmured, "Do you miss her?"
"I do..."
Lin Zhao looked at the water's surface, recalling the scene of his mother crying heartbrokenly while holding him after he was poisoned by the winter sweet potatoes. His eyes instantly reddened. "If it weren't for me, Mother wouldn't have suffered so much."
Zhang Liucheng, as if not fully understanding, said, "But without you, she wouldn't have seen any hope, and it would have been even harder."
Lin Zhao's nose twitched, almost bringing tears to his eyes. He said, "Aren't you going home to do the homework your teacher left? Are you looking for a beating?"
"Ah!"
Zhang Liucheng slapped his thigh, filled with regret. "Life is unsatisfactory nine times out of ten. I'm very unsatisfied right now. Why does this world have homework?"
Lin Zhao glanced at the little rascal. Truly, enjoying one's blessings without knowing their value. He thought of himself; after his mother passed away, he never went to school again. Although he could now read a good number of characters, he ultimately wasn't considered a scholar.
...
As Zhang Liucheng left, Lin Zhao immediately reeled in his fishing rod and creel, taking his catch home. In the evening, as dusk settled and heaven and earth breathed, after a satisfying meal, it was the best time to practice martial arts. He hurried back.
However, as he passed by the schoolhouse, he couldn't help but glance inside.
Lin Zhao knew that he wasn't entirely the young Lin Zhao, but his memories had merged. He could completely empathize with all the experiences of the boy's childhood. He had also lost his parents at the age of seven. How similar it was. In a way, he was the young Lin Zhao, and the young Lin Zhao was him.
Looking at the schoolhouse one last time, Lin Zhao's heart felt bitter.
When he was six, his father had been away for over a year, and his mother was gravely ill. The family's life grew increasingly difficult. The school teacher had instructed every student to write copying notes. They had no money, so his mother cut white paper and sewed it with needle and thread to make a notebook. Lin Zhao wrote diligently. The next day, when he brought it to submit his assignment, the school teacher directly threw Lin Zhao's notebook away, saying, "What is this trash? Can't you buy a proper writing brush and notebook?"
That day, Lin Zhao cried with immense sadness.
It was also on that day that the bookstore owner, that middle-aged scholar with an air of erudition, became agitated for the first time. In the evening, he stood in front of the schoolhouse and cursed loudly, uttering phrases like "Can such sycophants be teachers?" and "A disgrace to scholarly demeanor, a mere rat!" His curses were harsh.
Lin Zhao didn't quite understand what was being said, but he knew that the bookstore owner was a good person, an exceptionally good person.
...
When he looked up, he saw the bookstore owner, Qin Suihan, dressed in a grayish-white scholar's robe, standing not far away. He smiled gently at Lin Zhao, a smile as warm as that of an elder.
"Boss Qin!"
Lin Zhao sprinted several steps to reach Qin Suihan and said, "Hello, how is business at the bookstore today?"
"Not very good."
Qin Suihan smiled. "Barely making enough to get by."
"Oh?"
Lin Zhao quickly walked into the bookstore's courtyard and peeked into the large water vat under the white tree. There were two fish, one white and one black, seemingly ornamental fish that couldn't be eaten. He immediately took out several live fish from his creel and threw them into the vat. Then, he turned and rushed out.
"Hey!"
Boss Qin laughed heartily. "Young Lin, what are you doing?"
Lin Zhao waved his hand as he ran. "To cook and accompany your wine, Boss Qin. No need to thank me!"
Qin Suihan stroked his beard and chuckled, his smile growing even more amiable.
"Such a youth, living with such carefree ease~~~"
...
At night.
After eating his fill, Lin Zhao resumed practicing his punches. His martial aura surged powerfully in the courtyard until late into the night. After a cold shower, he prepared to go to bed.
Just as he was about to get into bed, a streak of white light flew out from the ancient sword, transforming once again into the white dragon goddess.
"Sister Bai?"
Lin Zhao was startled.
"What, are you afraid of me?" the goddess asked.
"Not exactly afraid, it's just that I'm timid."
"Hmph~~~"
The White Dragon Goddess glanced at the young man. "When you encountered the Snow Woman and were almost harmed, did you blame me for not intervening?"
Lin Zhao frowned. "No, after all, you had no obligation to save me. But I am also very curious. Since there is an agreement between us to carry the sword, why didn't Sister Bai intervene to save me? After all, if I die, no one will carry the sword for Sister Bai."
"Is that so?"
The White Dragon Goddess leaned closer, looking into the young man's face, and smiled. "Fool, if you die, I can find someone else to carry the sword. There aren't many fifteen-realm True Immortals in this world, and aren't two-legged fools everywhere?"
Lin Zhao hugged his knees. "That's true..."
Then, he fell silent.
"What, are you angry?" the White Dragon Goddess smiled.
"No."
Lin Zhao stood up and began to apply medicinal wine to the bruised knuckles of his fists from hitting the wooden stakes.
"What's the use of practicing martial arts?"
The White Dragon Goddess leaned against the window, moonlight illuminating her fragrant shoulders, making her appear beautiful. She looked at Lin Zhao, a playful smile on her lips. "Why don't I teach you swordplay? Become a Sword Immortal in the heavens. What's so good about martial arts? Even a peak thirteen-realm martial artist can be killed by a top Sword Immortal with a single strike."
Lin Zhao was stunned and remained silent.
"You're unwilling?"
The White Dragon Goddess smiled slightly and asked gently, "Do you wish to die?"
Lin Zhao looked up at her. "When my father left the mountain, he told me two things. The first was to learn boxing diligently from Uncle Long, because I was slow-witted, and it would be quite good if I could learn boxing well. Don't bite off more than you can chew. The second was to take good care of Mother. Now that I haven't taken good care of Mother, I must practice boxing even harder. So, Sister Bai, it's not that I don't want to learn swordsmanship from you, but I promised Father what I had to do."
The white-robed woman was slightly taken aback, then reached out and rubbed his head, laughing. "Then practice your punches well. But you have refused me once, so if you dare to ask me to teach you swordsmanship in the future, I'll slap you to death."
...
Lin Zhao's heart trembled slightly. She was serious; there was no doubt about it.
The White Dragon Goddess was about to return to the ancient sword. But before leaving, she suddenly turned back and asked, "Tell me, am I more beautiful, or is that Snow Woman more beautiful? Don't lie, or you'll be dead. I've already seen it; your eyes were glued to the Snow Woman's chest and backside."
"..."
Lin Zhao's heart was greatly shaken. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "We are equally beautiful, but you have much more of an ethereal aura than she does, like a celestial maiden."
"Hmph~~~"
The goddess smiled faintly, turning into a wisp of white light and seeping back into the sword.
Lin Zhao let out a cold sweat, as if he had narrowly escaped a disaster.