Rise in the Martial Chaos: Starting From a Martial Arts School-Chapter 49 - 36: Breakthrough to Hidden Jin

Yang Jing made up his mind. He decided he would pull an all-nighter if he had to; he had to break through to Anjin as soon as possible. After all, he still had a pound of bear meat and a pound of tiger meat at home, more than enough to fuel his body for the night.

He took a deep breath and was about to walk to the center of the courtyard to assume his stance when a KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK suddenly sounded from outside the gate.

The night was dark and heavy, and the knocking was exceptionally clear in the quiet market district.

Yang Jing froze, his brow furrowing. ’Who could be looking for me at this hour?’

He immediately grew vigilant. With a grim expression, he walked to the courtyard gate, rested his fingertips on the latch, and peeked through the crack.

Outside stood a burly man in simple, short clothes. His eyes, however, were shifty. He was peering through the crack in the gate, scanning the courtyard as if searching for something. His gaze suddenly met Yang Jing’s, startling him.

"Excuse me, is this Instructor Li’s home?" the man asked in a coarse, gruff voice, but Yang Jing could detect a forced casualness in his tone.

Yang Jing’s fingertips tightened on the latch. "No," he said in a low voice. "You have the wrong place."

The man grunted, "Oh," but then paused before turning to walk toward the alley entrance. His footsteps dragged, but just as he was about to turn the corner, he glanced back quickly at the courtyard gate.

Yang Jing checked the latch one more time before turning around. He leaned his back against the door, the palms of his hands slick with a thin layer of sweat.

’That man’s eyes were all wrong. He was clearly scouting the place. What ’wrong place’?’

Most of the residents around here were ordinary folk. ’Where would an "Instructor Li" even come from?’

Connecting this to the recent minor movements of the Yiqi Gang in several of West City’s market districts, the flicker of suspicion in his heart instantly solidified into a chilling certainty.

Whether the man was from the Yiqi Gang or not, this probing was definitely not a good sign.

He walked to the center of the courtyard. Moonlight spilled onto the ground, casting a cold gleam.

"I can’t wait any longer."

Yang Jing muttered to himself, clenching his fists.

The sudden sense of crisis seemed to stir the qi and blood within him, making them churn.

Then he sank into a horse stance. The shadows of his Mountain-Shattering Fist unfolded under the moonlight, each move more fluid and complete than before.

The medicinal power of the tiger meat continued to spread through his body, merging with his qi and blood and flowing slowly through his meridians.

He executed a "Mountain-Pushing Stance." Before his fist even arrived, the air before him was already compressed, trembling faintly.

Just as the momentum of his fist was about to be spent, a faint POP suddenly echoed from within his body, as if an invisible membrane had been broken through.

In that instant, Yang Jing shuddered, and it felt as if every pore on his skin had opened.

The power that had been stagnant in his shoulders and arms suddenly flowed freely, spreading through his muscles and bones to his fingertips. Even his breathing became long and deep.

He could clearly feel it: the contraction of every inch of muscle, the surge of every rush of qi and blood—all of it was completely under his control.

When he threw a punch, he could condense his force into a space three inches from his fist.

When he withdrew, he could make his energy retreat as silently as flowing water, not leaking the slightest bit.

The sense of incompleteness he had always felt, that final missing piece, was now finally filled.

His entire body felt as if it were soaking in warm water, filled with explosive power yet possessing an unprecedented coordination and agility.

He looked down at his fists. His knuckles were distinct, yet they felt as if they could now grasp a far greater weight than before.

Peak of Mingjin!

This was the feeling of the Peak of Mingjin.

Months of relentless, bitter training had finally brought him to the Peak of Mingjin today.

Yang Jing stood in the center of the courtyard, his chest rising and falling slightly, but his eyes were astonishingly bright.

He didn’t stop. He just adjusted his breathing and once again assumed his opening stance.

The wind from his Mountain-Shattering Fist was still fierce and powerful, but it now carried a masterful ease, as if every punch could shatter the very air before him.

He was just one final step away from Anjin.

「Time passed, second by second.」

The night deepened. The moonlight in the courtyard grew clearer, stretching Yang Jing’s shadow long and slender.

He practiced the Mountain-Shattering Fist over and over. The wind from his punches whistled, but he was no longer fixated on sheer ferocity. Instead, a sense of "sinking" gradually emerged.

When his feet landed, it was no longer with a heavy, dull thud. It was like a stone sinking into still water, silently seeping force into the ground. Even the moss in the corner of the courtyard seemed to be stirred by this energy, trembling faintly.

Yang Jing practiced the Mountain-Shattering Fist for four hours straight, losing count of how many times he had gone through the forms.

When he once again executed the "Mountain-Shattering Form," his fist was still an inch away from the old locust tree in the courtyard, yet its bark cracked with fine lines without warning. A few dry leaves rustled down.

’I did it!’

A tremor went through Yang Jing’s heart, but the momentum of his fist didn’t stop. He only felt that the power within him, which had been rushing like a great river, suddenly seemed to find a deep undercurrent and sank violently downward.

Previously, when using Mingjin, his muscles would bulge and his qi and blood would surge. Every bit of strength was overt and on display.

But now it was different. The force seemed to be hidden in the crevices of his bones and muscles. It remained still until called upon, and when it moved, it wound its way through his meridians, carrying a kind of "penetrating" quality.

He tried lightly flicking his wrist, pointing his fingertips toward the stone table in the distance.

No gust of wind swept past, but a moment later, a small chip of stone silently flaked off the edge of the table.

If this force were to land on a person, it would be a vicious power that could penetrate skin and muscle to strike the internal organs directly.

"So this is Anjin..." Yang Jing murmured to himself, placing a hand on his chest.

With Mingjin, he could clearly feel the powerful beating of his heart against his chest.

But now, he could "hear" the faint sound of blood flowing in his veins. He could "feel" the gentle breeze stirred by the footsteps of a passerby outside the courtyard walls. He could even "touch," through the soles of his shoes, the damp earth several feet underground.

The power of Anjin wasn’t just about having more strength than Mingjin. It was about "control" and "penetration."