The father and daughter exchanged a look, seeing the same shock and disbelief in each other’s eyes.

The oil lamp in the courtyard flickered gently, casting their two shadows on the ground.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the suppressed breathing of the servant disciples echoed softly in the silent courtyard.

"Junior Brother Yang... I didn’t expect this."

Sun Ningxiang murmured.

Had she known, she would have rushed back to the training grounds immediately after taking Lin Yue to the infirmary.

’How long has it been since Yang Jing broke through to the Dark Jin stage? Securing first place on a single platform in the training ground trials was already a huge surprise. But who could have imagined he would fight his way all the way to fourth in the overall rankings?’

It was so unbelievable it left her in a daze.

Sun Yong stood frozen, a storm of complex emotions raging in his mind.

He recalled his overwhelming anxiety and disappointment after Lin Yue was gravely injured and fell unconscious earlier today. He hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to the rest of the training ground trials.

’In my opinion, making it into the top eight was already his limit. He was bound to be eliminated by a stronger opponent. Before I left, I even specifically told him to forfeit immediately if things looked bad.’ And yet... an indescribable feeling welled up in his heart—a mix of surprise, guilt, and an ineffable sense of wonder.

"Fourth place."

Sun Yong muttered to himself, his feet beginning to pace back and forth in the courtyard involuntarily.

The bluestone slabs echoed with his heavy steps—THUD, THUD, THUD—each one seemingly venting years of pent-up frustration.

Sun’s Martial Arts Hall had been waiting for this day for far too long—so long that he had almost started to think it would never come in his lifetime.

Now that hope had suddenly been thrust before him, he felt his spirit soar, and even his breathing became unsteady.

He inwardly kicked himself. ’If I had returned earlier, I could have seen Yang Jing in person, asked about the details of his matches, and checked on his injuries. I could have shown him that I, his master, was concerned.’

"Father," Sun Ningxiang asked softly, seeing the storm of emotions on his face, "should I go get Junior Brother Yang now? Or perhaps we could go see him at his place?"

Sun Yong stopped pacing and shook his head, a subtle warmth in his tone. "No need. He fought several brutal matches today and was injured. He must be exhausted. Let him rest and recuperate at home. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow."

With that, he straightened his robes and turned to walk toward the inner courtyard.

But his steps were noticeably lighter than when he had first entered, and even his posture seemed straighter from behind.

...

「Tongyi Square.」

Yang Jing pushed open the courtyard gate.

Yang An was squatting by the kitchen door organizing firewood. He whipped his head around at the sound and saw Yang Jing walk in, his face a little pale.

"Brother Jing! Are you okay?" Yang An’s voice boomed with deep concern. He reached out to help but hesitated, afraid of touching his injuries. His honest, simple face was filled with worry. "Should I go get a doctor to take a look at you?"

Half-supporting, half-steadying him, Yang An walked Yang Jing toward the main house. His coarse hands carefully avoided Yang Jing’s abdomen and several other external wounds, and his steps were steady.

Once inside, Yang An gently pushed Yang Jing into a chair by the octagonal table, then turned and ran to the kitchen, muttering, "I made dinner a while ago, just waiting for you to get back! You just sit tight, I’ll bring it right out!"

Leaning back in his chair, Yang Jing watched his cousin’s bustling figure, and the pain in his abdomen seemed to fade away.

A moment later, Yang An came in carrying a large, steaming basin of tiger meat stewed with potatoes. The rich aroma of the meat, mingled with the soft sweetness of the potatoes, instantly filled the room.

"I bought this tiger meat fresh this morning at the West Market from Hunter Qin’s stall. He said he’d just hunted it last night and saved a good, sinewy cut especially for you. Said it’s great for building up your strength!"

Next, stir-fried seasonal vegetables and a cold wood ear mushroom salad were placed on the table. Finally, he brought over a clay pot. When he lifted the lid, a thick, medicinal aroma wafted straight into their nostrils.

Inside was a bubbling, rich broth with slices of ginseng and several other restorative herbs floating in it—clearly a specially prepared tonic soup.

"Eat up, eat up,"

Yang An ladled a bowl of rice for himself and beamed at Yang Jing, his happiness unconcealed. "The tonic soup is an old family recipe from Grandfather. It’s the best thing for bruises and injuries. Drink plenty of it."

Yang Jing picked up his chopsticks and looked at the sumptuous spread on the table, a warmth filling his heart.

He put a piece of tiger meat into his mouth and asked indistinctly, "Brother An, aren’t you going to ask how I did in the training ground trials? What place I got?"

Hearing this, Yang An’s dark-complexioned face flushed with a hint of bashfulness. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled. "Heh heh, there’s something I have to tell you."

He put down his bowl and continued, "Actually, for the past two days, I’ve been watching from outside the training grounds every day. And it wasn’t just me. A lot of people from our home village came—Grandfather, my mom, and your mom, they all came."

Yang Jing paused, his chopsticks hovering in mid-air. He was stunned.

He never imagined his grandfather and mother would come, let alone so many of the villagers.

"Grandfather said he was afraid we would distract you during your matches, so he specifically ordered everyone not to tell you. We were just to watch from a distance."

Yang An’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. "You have no idea. During your fight with Xu Guangwei, my mom and your mom were standing outside with their fists clenched, their palms sweating! Grandfather acted calm, but I saw that the back of his shirt was soaked through..."

Yang Jing’s heart trembled. He suddenly recalled hearing faint shouts from outside the training grounds during his matches, as if someone was cheering for him. He had dismissed it as his imagination at the time, but it turned out to have been his family and fellow villagers encouraging him all along.

He hadn’t been fighting alone after all. Even after his master and the others had left, so many people were still silently supporting him from behind the scenes.

’Grandfather...’ Yang Jing lowered his head, picked up a piece of tiger meat with his chopsticks, and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing forcefully.

The tonic soup was slightly bitter, but a warm current flowed with it from his throat all the way to the bottom of his heart, soothing his pain and filling him with gratitude.

...

「Inner City, Li Mansion.」

In an elegantly furnished room, candlelight flickered, illuminating a heavy, somber atmosphere.

Li Mengchao was half-reclined on a brocade couch, one side of his robes pulled away to reveal a gruesome wound on his inner thigh.

The flesh around the wound was torn open. Although the bleeding had stopped, it was still a ghastly shade of red.

The injury looked severe, but it wasn’t actually that serious. However, its location was so sensitive that no one dared to be the slightest bit careless.

A physician with graying hair and a beard was carefully dabbing ointment onto the wound with a cotton swab.

His movements were extremely gentle, afraid of aggravating the wound and causing pain. He couldn’t help but remark, "The Young Master is truly blessed. You dodged just in time. This wound looks terrifying, but it’s ultimately just a flesh wound. It will heal completely after some time. If it had been off by even half a hair’s breadth..."

The physician left his sentence unfinished, but the peril was clear enough for everyone to understand.

The location was far too vital. Had the injury been any deeper, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Li Mengchao’s face, already pale from the pain, turned dangerously dark upon hearing this. The veins on the hand gripping the brocade quilt bulged, his knuckles turning white.

The memory of Qin Yu’s vicious claw attack made his teeth itch with hatred. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his jaw was clenched, a clear sign of his extreme fury.

Several Li Family elders standing by the bed had equally ugly expressions.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group, dressed in a brocade robe, bore a slight resemblance to Li Mengchao. It was the Li Family Patriarch, Li Haitao.

He stared at the wound on his son’s leg, his brows knitted tightly, his eyes churning with a mixture of shocked fury and lingering fear.

Li Mengchao was the Li Family’s eldest son of the primary lineage, the number one talent of the younger generation, in whom the family had invested all its resources. If he were truly crippled, not only would Li Mengchao’s life be ruined, but the entire Li Family’s honor would be trampled into the dust. It could even affect the future of the family’s lineage.

"That little bastard Qin Yu! His methods are so vicious!"

A gray-robed elder beside him couldn’t help but curse under his breath, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "How dare he use such a malicious move on Meng Chao! The absolute, unmitigated gall!"

Li Haitao waved his hand, signaling for him to be patient. His gaze fell on Li Mengchao as he said in a low voice, "Let the physician finish treating the wound first."

The physician didn’t dare say more. He quickened his movements, applied the medicine, and carefully bandaged the wound. Only then did he bow and say, "Young Master, please rest well. Change the dressing daily, and do not agitate the wound. It should heal completely within half a month."

With that, he took his leave, knowing it was wise to do so.