Chapter 44: A Setback, a Growth (Bonus Chapter)

Overnight, leaves fell in several waves!

For the camphor tree in the courtyard, though it was warm spring, it was in truth winter.

The next morning, Lin Chen rose and came to the courtyard, staring at the fallen leaves scattered on the ground and the camphor tree whose branches had begun to bare patches, his lips twitching.

Originally, the camphor tree had been lush and dense, resembling a canopy from afar.

But this camphor tree in his own courtyard now looked like a man’s scalp with a few bald patches—undoubtedly unattractive.

“Brother Tree, forgive me—you’re only slightly bald, not fully bald yet.”

He glanced at the panel: [Clear Wind Palm: Proficient (3/10)]. This brother tree had been instrumental.

After comforting the camphor tree, Lin Chen continued his cultivation.

But he no longer cultivated Clear Wind Palm—he chose to cultivate Water Cloud Palm.

At this stage, Clear Wind Palm could no longer be improved by mere practice; each session required deeper insight.

At night, the [Black as Midnight] bonus made it more suitable for cultivating insight into Clear Wind Palm.

The fact that the progress bar from Proficient to Minor Mastery had only ten points proved it all.

He calmed his mind and quieted his spirit, beginning cultivation.

[Water Cloud Palm: Not Yet Entered (1/100)]

[Water Cloud Palm: Not Yet Entered (2/100)]

[Water Cloud Palm: Not Yet Entered (3/100)]

By noon, Lin Chen discovered his proficiency in Water Cloud Palm had surged by thirty points.

That meant, if he wished, he could enter the realm of Water Cloud Palm in just three days.

“It must be because mastery of one art unlocks all others—I’ve brought Clear Wind Palm to Proficiency, so now cultivating Water Cloud Palm isn’t nearly as hard as it was with Clear Wind Palm.”

Lin Chen pondered for a moment, forming a judgment in his mind.

Water Cloud Palm and Clear Wind Palm were both palm techniques; before Proficiency, they differed only in form, so cultivation naturally yielded double results.

…

…

Afternoon.

Lin Chen changed out of his martial arts school attire, picked up his mask, and headed for the Martial Garden.

The Martial Garden was even busier than yesterday!

The closer to month’s end, the more martial artists arrived.

When Lin Chen stepped onto the first arena again, martial artists present from yesterday recognized him; many wore expressions of surprise.

“Why is this man still climbing the arena? Yesterday he lost in two moves to Qiao Yi—he has no hope of becoming this month’s arena champion.”

“Perhaps he’s here to spar and improve his combat skills.”

“Impossible!”

One spectator dismissed the previous guess, snorting: “This man’s Clear Wind Palm is Proficient, yet his realm remains at Two Orifices—he’s clearly another martial artist obsessed with technique proficiency, abandoning realm advancement. You tell me such a person wants to improve combat ability?”

The man’s face showed disdain. The Martial Garden had many such martial artists, especially between the first and second arenas, where champions had long abandoned martial pursuit, refining techniques solely for the monthly arena prize.

“That makes sense. Then can you explain what this man’s purpose is in climbing the arena?”

“I don’t know. People are varied—perhaps he’s just acting on a whim.”

On the arena, Lin Chen heard the spectators’ chatter and secretly smiled—he truly was here to improve his combat ability. They couldn’t guess because they never considered him a new student of the martial arts school.

Think about it: a new student who brings a technique to Proficiency must have long since cultivated essence and opened his orifices, starting the technique months ahead—impossible to still be stuck at Two Orifices.

Soon, an opponent climbed onto the arena.

A massive man with a full beard, his steps profoundly steady.

Lin Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly—this man didn’t just train leg techniques; he likely practiced hardening external arts too.

A disciple of Zhenyue Martial Arts School?

“Martial arts school disciples—I hate you lot. All you know are flashy moves, zero real combat power.”

The man grinned, and as he stretched, his flab—even under clothing—was visibly undulating.

Fat resists blows!

Lin Chen had heard this phrase from Lu Yongfeng: all practitioners of hardening external arts, like Zhenyue’s disciples, were thick with fat. At first, Lin Chen couldn’t understand—shouldn’t such practitioners be muscular?

Later, he realized: muscle couldn’t absorb blows nearly as well as fat.

Muscle relied purely on physical strength; fat, however, could dissipate force through vibration upon impact.

Zhenyue Martial Arts School disciples were all burly, fat men—more fat the further they cultivated, dubbed walking mountains of flesh.

In Poyang County’s martial circles, a saying went: a Zhenyue disciple’s strength was measured by how bulky his frame and how much fat he carried.

But this man wasn’t from Zhenyue Martial Arts School—he wouldn’t say he hated martial arts school disciples if he were.

“Please instruct me,” Lin Chen said calmly.

The fat man spat, then charged forward with his entire massive body—though obese, his speed was swift, like a mountain of flesh barreling in.

Lin Chen frowned, sidestepped, and struck with his right palm, landing precisely on the man’s arm.

Slap!

The crisp sound echoed across the arena; Lin Chen even felt the fat on the man’s arm quiver like a spring, sinking inward then rebounding instantly.

The man took the blow, his expression twisting with rage, then swung his body sideways and slammed into Lin Chen.

Thud!

Lin Chen staggered several steps, his qi and blood churning.

“Get off my arena!”

Before Lin Chen could steady himself, the man charged again—straight ahead. Lin Chen drew a deep breath, suppressed his churning qi, refused to retreat, and struck again with Clear Wind Palm.

He refused to believe the man had hardened his skull to withstand the power of Clear Wind Palm.

But just as Lin Chen’s palm was about to land, the man suddenly lifted his head, wearing a sly smile, then retracted his massive skull like a turtle’s, spreading his arms wide—his shoulder fat swelled, forming a hollow perfectly sized for his head to retreat into.

Tricked!

Lin Chen retreated instantly—but too late. Before his palm touched the man’s head, the man’s body slammed into him; the impact was terrifying, hurling Lin Chen from the arena’s center straight to its edge.

His feet hadn’t even steadied on the edge when he saw the man repeat the trick—Lin Chen didn’t hesitate, leaping off the arena entirely.

He conceded defeat!

He entered the arena to improve his combat ability, not to fight to the death.

Until he found a way to counter the man’s hardening arts, conceding wasn’t shameful.

Off the arena, Lin Chen walked to the side. With his mask on, no one saw his expression—or knew he wasn’t upset about losing.

Right now, he felt grateful for this fight.

Grateful he’d discovered another combat technique.

He’d been outmaneuvered.

From the start, he’d walked straight into the man’s trap.

The moment the man stepped on, his first words were to belittle martial arts school disciples—Lin Chen’s subconscious had bristled, so when the man charged, he’d chosen to meet force with force.

Those words had influenced him!

In martial combat, emotional fluctuations affect performance; if an opponent’s words stir your emotions—especially subconscious ones you didn’t even notice—you fall into their designed trap.

One setback, one lesson learned. He’d learned this trick.

From yesterday to today, two losses in a row—Lin Chen didn’t climb the arena again. The Martial Garden’s rule: once defeated, a martial artist couldn’t challenge again that day.

If he couldn’t challenge, he’d watch.

Challenges on every arena raged on; the crowd’s interest in Lin Chen’s fight lasted only ten breaths before shifting to another arena.

The world was like this: no one cared about the battle of two Two-Orifice martial artists. Many young martial artists, especially school students, felt humiliated after one loss and couldn’t bear to stay—they simply took themselves too seriously.

On the second arena—the one for Three-Orifice and Four-Orifice martial artists—Lin Chen saw many masked martial artists like himself; they were likely the top students of this year’s new intake from martial arts schools.

Seeing them leave after losing, Lin Chen sighed: young people still had thin skins, took themselves too seriously.

Iron Shatter Fist, Seven Stars Fist, Mantis Fist…

In an hour, Lin Chen witnessed the signature techniques of the eight martial arts schools. He hadn’t known them before, but the spectators’ chatter on the arena edges made it clear.

Of over twenty matches, the one that impressed Lin Chen most was a martial artist from Mantis School: during combat, he not only used Mantis Fist but also a remarkably agile footwork technique.

From the spectators’ talk, this footwork wasn’t a ranked martial art—just an ordinary technique.

“Martial arts school instructors tell students to focus on one technique because, for students, realm is most important. Ranked techniques are hard enough to cultivate; adding others distracts, leading to low proficiency in the ranked technique and no mastery in the others.”

“Better to perfect one technique than to dabble in many. And school disciples’ sparring isn’t as intense as arena fights—when everyone learns only one technique, the difference is negligible.”

“This year is different: the three-month school competition. If your realm can’t catch up to opponents, you must enhance combat ability. Clear Wind Palm and Water Cloud Palm are both palm techniques—if I can improve my leg skills too, I’ll catch opponents off guard.”

Thinking this, Lin Chen stopped watching the arena fights and turned to leave the Martial Garden.

PS: Bonus chapter delivered. Please vote for double monthly tickets! The editor hasn’t replied—likely won’t make it; I’ll have to wait another week. Then reader retention becomes vital—please, from now on, don’t abandon this novel. Thank you!

(End of Chapter)