Chapter 1: Diligence Makes Up for Lack of Talent

Wutai County, Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall.

Under the blazing sun, a group of young, sturdy men stood bare to the waist, shouldering stone blocks, half-squatting in horse stance, beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolling endlessly from their brows.

"It's true that my Zhao Family Fist Technique is only an introductory fist art, but if you want to master it, you must first train your lower body—

"Only by making your lower body as steady as a boulder can you qualify to learn my fist technique.

"If any of you can't stand my training, or if you plan to play tricks and slack off, I'd advise you to give up the thought of learning martial arts as early as possible!

"I, Zhao Feng, will absolutely not take in someone with such impure intentions as a disciple — it would only bring disgrace to the name of Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall."

"In half a month, the county's martial tournament will officially begin. The top three will not only earn the qualification to attend a Martial School, representing Wutai County in Baishan Jun's martial school;

"Additionally, they may select a Human Grade Martial Arts Technique from the County Government Armory. Whether you can seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity depends entirely on your own ability!"

The hall master of Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall, Zhao Feng, paced back and forth before the young men, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's sweeping over each and every one of them.

Finally, his gaze settled on a corner of the crowd: "Feng Zi, come here!"

Feng Zi, who had been standing motionless under the scorching sun in horse stance, was startled by the words.

Then, under Zhao Feng's impatient gaze, he hurriedly withdrew his stance and walked over.

"Master." Feng Zi bowed his head respectfully and called out.

"Don't call me Master!" Zhao Feng gave an inconspicuous sweep of his gaze around, looked at the disciples waiting to watch the show, and let out a helpless, shallow sigh.

Then, he called Feng Zi to a corner, frowning, and demanded in a low voice: "Half of this month has already passed — where's this month's martial training fee?"

"Mas… hall master, the harvest in the fields wasn't good this year, and the family is truly in a bit of difficulty…" Feng Zi lowered his head and explained, embarrassed.

But before he could finish speaking, Zhao Feng cut him off directly, visibly impatient:

"Enough, I'm not here to listen to you pour out your woes and cry poverty to me. Besides, you've already used that excuse no less than three times.

"I've said more than once that learning martial arts is a money-eating beast that only takes in and never gives back—

"For a farming family like yours with only a few thin acres, who can barely afford a few meals with meat, how could you possibly bear the cost?

"Ask yourself honestly: since you've come to Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall to train, which technique, medicinal meal, or medicinal bath have I ever shortchanged you on? If you won't pay, what right do you have to enjoy these things?

"Furthermore, your bone constitution is poor — you simply don't have the makings of a martial artist. I'll give you one night. If you haven't scraped together this month's fee by tomorrow, you needn't come to the martial arts hall anymore."

Having said this, Zhao Feng paused, then turned and left: "So be it. Don't practice anymore today. If you can't pay the fee, then from now on, don't call yourself a Martial Artist of Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall."

Feng Zi's heart was in turmoil. He walked home in a daze, a bitter taste rising at the corner of his mouth.

Two full years had already passed since he first came to Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall to learn martial arts…

Perhaps, just as Hall Master Zhao had said, he lacked comprehension, his bone constitution was poor, and he simply had no talent for martial arts. After two years of bitter training, he still hadn't even touched the threshold of the martial path.

But even so, Feng Zi remained unwilling to give up—

In this other world where martial prowess was revered, for a person at the bottom like himself, knowledge was useless. Only by achieving something on the martial path could he escape a lifetime of lowly fate.

And only thus could he let the parents who had silently supported him all along live a good life, and hold his own life in his own hands.

After his rebirth, without much thought, Feng Zi understood—

The original body's ancestors had all been ordinary farmers who worked the land. Before dawn each day, his father would head to the fields to work, while his mother would pick up garments needing cutting and mending from a tailor's shop and bring them home to mend for money.

Despite such toil, they couldn't earn much over the course of a year, let alone save any significant amount.

After learning as much as he could about the current situation, Feng Zi understood that to break through this state, there was only one way — martial arts!

To fund Feng Zi's martial training, the family sold the old yellow ox that pulled the plow, barely scraping together enough for the discipleship fee.

But unexpectedly, although the discipleship fee had been paid, an additional monthly martial training fee was required.

This extra martial training fee wasn't only targeted at ordinary farming households like Feng Zi's.

Zhao Feng was also aware of their difficulties and had once said privately:

For commoners like Feng Zi, without this martial training fee to purchase nourishing food and medicinal baths, they wouldn't even be able to step over the threshold of the martial path, let alone catch up with those young masters!

And what about the young masters from landlord families? From birth, they enjoyed the finest food supplements and medicinal tonics, with pharmacists constantly tending to their meridians.

To pay this monthly martial training fee in full each month, his father had taken up the plow and harrow that once belonged to the old yellow ox, his mother sewed garments under the moonlight night after night, and Feng Zi did whatever housework he could manage…

But fate was unkind. This year's harvest had diminished, and the taxes had grown heavier. After paying the taxes, there was barely anything left, and the family had long since had no spare money for the martial training fee.

For the sake of his martial training, his father had worked himself until he could no longer straighten his back, and his mother's eyes had grown increasingly blurred.

The human heart is not made of iron or stone — Feng Zi saw all of this with his own eyes.

His parents had already given everything, and he himself had spared no effort, yet in the end, this was all it amounted to…

Perhaps it was time to let go of his obsession with martial arts and take over the work from his parents' hands.

The road from the martial arts hall to home wasn't long, and Feng Zi had walked it for two full years, but today's steps were especially heavy. It wasn't until the usual dusk that he finally arrived home.

The moment he pushed open the door, he saw his mother, as always, sitting in the courtyard mending old clothes, her eyes nearly pressed against the fabric.

Hearing the sound of the gate being pushed open, Feng Mu looked up. Seeing it was Feng Zi who had returned, she smiled and set aside the old garment she had been mending, just as always.

After casually telling Feng Zi to go wash his hands, she turned and went into the kitchen, bringing out the food that had been kept warm on the stove.

Before long, Feng Fu also returned, his face drawn.

At the table, the family of three ate wild vegetables and drank thin porridge.

Feng Zi sat in silence, his mind turning over how to break the news to his parents that he had decided not to go to the martial arts hall anymore.

But he saw his parents simply drain the thin porridge in their bowls in one go, and as if they had planned it, one after the other they went into the inner room, even latching the door bolt behind them.

After a short while, rustling sounds came from within the room.

An ominous premonition rose unbidden in Feng Zi's heart. He quickly drew closer, and relying on the slightly sharper hearing of a Martial Artist, he finally made out his parents' voices—

"Father of the child, are you really going to sell our family's fields?"

"What else can we do? The harvest this year wasn't much, and after paying the taxes, what's left isn't enough for this month's martial training fee. I've borrowed from everyone I could these past days, and we're still short by quite a bit.

"What else can we do if we don't sell? Are we really going to let Zi'er stop learning martial arts, and let him spend his whole life unable to straighten his back in the fields, just like me?

"I've asked around too. Our fields count as decent good land, and this year isn't a disaster year either. Five acres should sell for at least a hundred taels or so of silver.

"For the next few months, Zi'er's martial training fee will be covered. I'll go work as a tenant farmer for Liu Fuhu's household then — I can earn some money each month, enough for our family to eat and clothe ourselves."

"Sigh… it can only be like this."

Feng Zi heard everything clearly from outside the house, and of course he understood — that was just how farmers were. Once disaster struck, they had no choice but to sell their only safeguard, their land.

But those were only things he had read about in books. When he actually experienced it himself, his hands had already clenched into fists, and his throat felt as if something were stuck in it.

Thinking that it was because of his own martial training that his parents had been forced to the point of having to sell their fields, Feng Zi stormed out of the house in fury and began pummelling the wooden post in the yard like a madman.

One punch, another punch, yet another… there was no method to speak of; he just wanted to vent every ounce of pent-up frustration.

His fists struck the wooden post, producing dull thuds.

With ten thousand grievances bottled up inside, Feng Zi let out low roars, not knowing how many punches he had thrown.

Until blood seeped from his fists in trickles of bright red, and unwillingness and fury had long since reddened his eyes, a line of text suddenly appeared before him:

【Talent: Diligence Makes Up For Clumsiness】

【Effect: As long as you persevere, every bit of effort yields a bit of return — this is a gift for those who never give up】

Feng Zi was stunned for a moment, finding it hard to believe in his heart: "This… could this be my golden finger?"

【Zhao Family Long Fist (Not Yet Entered): 26/100】

【Martial Artist (Entered): 11/500】

Feng Zi saw the progress of the Zhao Family Long Fist he practiced — after two years of diligent study and hard training, it had not even reached half its progress — and finally faced reality:

It really was just as Zhao Feng had said: he simply wasn't cut out for martial arts, and was still nothing more than an ordinary, substandard Martial Artist.

Feng Zi held his breath and focused his spirit, recalling the essentials of the Zhao Family Long Fist. Channeling his strength to one point, his waist following through with force, he punched at the wooden post again with full concentration!

A punch slammed out, the wooden post swayed and gave a dull thud, and the progress bar changed along with it:

【Zhao Family Long Fist (Not Yet Entered): 27/100】

It really had gone up a little!