Chapter 5: Chapter Five

"Fist Scripture, Grass Flying? What kind of secret manuals are these?" Bai Lang now has a bit of free time—there aren't that many fights to watch, the allocations among the factions have long been settled. Watching the arena is mainly to intimidate the patrons, and also to go out and help other places recruit manpower. In fact, this shows that the higher‑ups don't value these newly‑joined thugs much—only the top person from each place gets sent to the headquarters for the elders to pick; the second place and those behind receive the same treatment.

Because Bai Lang ranks near the top, his tasks are relatively easy, giving him more time to cultivate. Meals and lodging are free here, but the monthly stipend is modest—only one or two silver pieces per month.

Flipping through the two so‑called manuals, Bai Lang rustled the pages; the formulas inside are simple and clear, though the human‑shaped diagrams are a bit abstract—thankfully there are arrows and abundant notes, finally allowing Bai Lang to grasp how the channel of luck connects True Qi with the body. "Now I understand why a master must teach in person, yet I still can't figure out how those so‑called cliff‑jumpers who obtained the manuals cultivated such divine skills," he thought. It can only be called the protagonist's death‑defying law.

But Bai Lang now doesn't feel like a protagonist; the only advantage of working in the Tooth Hall is that news from all corners comes swiftly. Being young, he was instantly fascinated by the old‑tale talks here. It turns out martial skill is divided into various realms; the locals' knowledge only reaches the Innate Expert level, beyond that it's vague, only rumors of Spirit Realm, Dharma Body, etc. The leader of the Chang Le Gang has already entered the Innate Expert tier.

So it seems Bai Lang doubts he'll ever reach the Innate Expert level in this life—can one achieve that just with elementary Qi‑gong and Long Fist? Some people say so, and Bai Lang believes them... Still, Long Fist combined with the techniques in the Fist Scripture covers a broad range. From Bai Lang's memory, most of the so‑called "national martial arts" he "traversed" in Qian's world were included. As for Grass Flying, that Lightness Skill is something even those so‑called national arts could never truly possess—because this world cultivates True Qi and Internal Force.

Grass Flying channels Internal Force through the meridians of the legs and lungs, granting faster running speed; according to the manual, once cultivated to the "entering the hall" stage, one can lift the breath and glide over grass, stepping on it without the grass bending. Since he has cultivated a breath of True Qi, Bai Lang treats the technique as genuine and begins to practice earnestly—primarily circulating Internal Force to unblock the meridians.

Having arrived in this world, Bai Lang has little interest in such base pleasures—the singing and dancing here seem dull to him, and lingering among blossoms requires a suitable body and, secondly, some money. A stipend of one or two silver pieces a month is enough to get by; dreaming of a brothel? Even the cheapest yellow fish can't be afforded many times. The Tooth Hall does have side jobs, but he's new, and no one will yet take him along.

Fortunately, sleeping is warm and food is filling; besides the stipend, the gang also issues a bottle of ghee each month—this can be applied to the body and massaged in a specific way, healing bruises and also strengthening tendons, bones, and Qi. "Probably far stronger than that so‑called tiger‑bone ointment," he thought as he massaged it for the first time, feeling the heat seep straight into his muscles and marrow, giving the impression of training in a furnace.

Since there's little else to waste time on, Bai Lang naturally has plenty of free time, which he devotes to martial practice—what could be more enjoyable than training? Moreover, deep cultivation is said to make one akin to a terrestrial immortal, even achieving Buddhahood or founding a sect isn't impossible; there's essentially no difference between martial mastery and attaining the Dao… At present he has only these few arts in hand, so he repeatedly refines them while trying to acquire other techniques.

Winter passed, spring came, and three years slipped by. Though he's unsure of his true age, Bai Lang now looks like a seventeen‑ or eighteen‑year‑old youth—training plus adequate nutrition has made him larger and stronger than his actual years, at least compared to his pre‑transmigration state. The Fist Scripture and Long Fist have become fully integrated, and as his True Qi circulates he has opened the Ren Meridian and three of the Twelve Primary Channels, bringing Grass Flying to a minor achievement.

Although he can generate a fist wind, there's no noticeable range or power; techniques like Sky‑Splitting Palm are still beyond his reach. If he lands a hit on a person, his Internal Force can seep through the punch and damage the opponent's body; a single punch striking a stone can now shatter it into small fragments. The stone, however, is only about half a person's height.

That day, Bai Lang again followed his long‑standing routine, rising early to punch and train—now he's a somewhat prominent figure in the Tooth Hall's arena, earning three or four taels a month, while others have become slick and few still practice daily—seeing no clear path, they naturally lose heart. Bai Lang alone persists rain or shine, training diligently, and has become the strongest martial artist in the Tooth Hall. That day, he also sat in the hall watching the arena as per the rules, when a few juniors went out to collect payments and returned with a pile of junk.

The youths cursed and dragged the debt‑riddled fellow inside for a good beating, and Bai Lang didn't intervene—he knew the guy, a street troublemaker who gambles habitually, scams and swindles, and indeed owes the Tooth Hall a bit, so he's often hauled in for a fight. However, the junk brought in as payment piqued his interest—perhaps there's a hidden manual among it? In any case, Bai Lang always rummages through it.

He flipped through the junk repeatedly and found only more trash; in the end Bai Lang, going with the flow, picked up a small jade fish that seemed to have some value and took it—considered a perk for the Tooth Hall's enforcers; not taking it would be against the rules. The jade fish was barely half a finger long, made of rather poor jade, and Bai Lang, indifferent, tossed it between his fingers like a coin. He didn't expect that a little extra force would snap the jade fish into two pieces.

The shattered jade fish immediately pierced Bai Lang's finger; blood strands seeped onto the fish, and in an instant the jade fish snapped shut, flicking its tail like a real fish, and Bai Lang vanished from his own room…