Chapter 4: The Sparring Career Begins
Early the next morning.
Just as the sky began to lighten, Chen Ming got up.
As he was heading out, he heard the childish sound of reading coming from the courtyard of his eldest brother’s house—it was his young nephew doing morning reading.
It sounded like one of those elementary enlightenment texts, something like The Thousand Character Classic.
Over the past few days, he had heard that his elder brother and sister-in-law were planning to have their son study literature.
Poor families raise scholars, rich families raise warriors.
His elder brother and sister-in-law were probably scared off by the costs of his martial training.
First was the tuition—three hundred taels a year. Then during the festivals and holidays, one had to give gifts and show respect to the master, which cost dozens more taels.
Martial training consumed a lot.
He had to eat meat every day, and the amount of money he alone spent on food exceeded that of the entire family.
There was also the monthly medicinal bath and the necessary Qi-tonifying pills.
Adding all that up, it cost at least five hundred taels a year.
In the past, his father had gritted his teeth and endured, pouring a lifetime of savings into it, hoping the youngest son would succeed in martial arts and bring glory to the family.
Who would have thought that this son would be so disappointing?
After four years of training, he had made no real progress.
The money was spent like running water.
After their parents died, the family pharmacy's business inevitably suffered.
Now, they probably only made a little over a hundred taels a year—hardly enough to support the nephew’s martial arts studies.
In fact, their parents had left behind a sum of money.
This time, just to bail him out, that money was probably all spent too.
The Chen family’s savings over several generations had been completely squandered by the original Chen Ming.
Behind his back, who knew how many people were pointing fingers at him.
Even so, Chen Rui still acknowledged him as a brother and didn’t blame him.
This kind of fraternal affection was especially precious.
Chen Ming remembered all of this.
And those from Jin Yuansheng who schemed against him, framed him, and cheated his elder brother out of money—he remembered them too.
That debt, he would settle slowly in time.
…
When Chen Ming arrived at the Huo residence, the sky was already fully bright.
The gatekeeper had been instructed in advance and let him in directly.
He had trained in martial arts here for four years, and he knew the place like the back of his hand. He headed straight for the training ground.
“Chen Ming?”
Suddenly, someone called his name from behind.
He turned and saw a young man in a blue brocade robe. He quickly bowed and said, “Greetings, Seventh Senior Brother.”
This man was Wen Zehao, Huo Chengkun’s youngest official disciple, who had joined the martial academy the same year as him.
But fate had treated them very differently.
Wen Zehao had demonstrated extraordinary talent and progressed rapidly. In less than half a year, he had broken through to the second level of the Iron Horse Stance.
In just four years, he had reached the fifth level, becoming a martial artist with ranked skills and was accepted as the seventh disciple by Huo Chengkun.
Chen Ming looked at this confident and high-spirited peer, and a wave of indescribable emotion surged in his heart.
There was no doubt—the original Chen Ming had been jealous of Wen Zehao.
He had fantasized about suddenly achieving enlightenment, making great strides in cultivation, stunning everyone, and becoming the center of attention.
But reality was harsh.
After seven years of training, he hadn’t even broken through to the second level of the Iron Horse Stance—far behind what Wen Zehao achieved in half a year.
So, in front of the dazzling Wen Zehao, the original Chen Ming could only feel deeply inferior.
Wen Zehao was happy to see an old acquaintance. “You’re here to visit Master too?”
Chen Ming quickly suppressed the strange emotions in his heart.
The jealousy belonged to the original; it had nothing to do with him.
He said, “I came to take a job—I'll be a sparring partner for the new students.”
“Sparring partner? Didn’t you already have a job?”
“Not anymore.”
Wen Zehao wanted to ask more, but suddenly caught sight of a graceful figure. He quickly said, “Let’s have drinks next time. I’m going to see the Master now.”
Chen Ming also saw that figure.
He recognized her as Huo Chengkun’s granddaughter.
In his memory, she had still been a little girl of eleven or twelve.
Now, she had grown into a graceful young lady.
Before long, Chen Ming arrived at the training ground.
He saw that the field was divided into several groups, each led by a man in black training attire who was guiding their practice.
It resembled more of a martial arts academy, with students grouped by progress levels, and different instructors teaching accordingly.
Huo Chengkun acted like the principal and didn’t usually instruct the students himself.
Chen Ming headed toward the beginner class, which had the most people and the youngest average age.
“Fifth Senior Brother.”
The one responsible for teaching the newcomers was the fifth disciple, Hong Mingquan—a short man with thick limbs, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.
Though his appearance seemed a bit comical, he was a genuine ranked martial artist.
Ten of Chen Ming wouldn't be enough to beat him.
Chen Ming greeted him with great respect, knowing that this Fifth Senior Brother had a strong sense of pride.
Any slight disrespect from students would result in punishment.
Sure enough, Hong Mingquan was quite pleased to see him being so respectful, and his attitude softened. “Chen Ming, you’re here. Master already told me. From now on, you’ll assist me in training these little brats.”
“Please guide me well, Fifth Senior Brother.”
Hong Mingquan patted his shoulder. “We’re all family here. As long as you do your job properly, I’ll treat you well. Come, let’s go meet those little rascals.”
He brought Chen Ming over to the group of sweaty teens who were practicing stances and introduced him, “His name is Chen Ming. He’ll be your sparring partner from now on. If you want to practice with him, come to him after stance training.”
The group of half-grown boys stared at Chen Ming with wide eyes—some curious, some puzzled.
It wasn’t clear whether they understood or not.
“Alright, keep holding your stances.”
Hong Mingquan brought Chen Ming over to a nearby pavilion and said, “They still have half an hour left. Let’s drink some tea and wait.”
“Yes, Fifth Senior Brother.”
This Fifth Senior Brother had one good trait—as long as he was treated with enough respect, he was easy to deal with.
Among Huo Chengkun’s disciples, he was one of the most approachable.
…
Over the next half hour, Chen Ming exercised his conversational skills, continuously creating topics to prompt Hong Mingquan to talk about his glory days.
He threw in compliments at just the right moments, always hitting the man’s sweet spot.
Eventually, Hong Mingquan got more and more excited, saliva flying as he spoke.
“Your experiences are truly legendary, Senior Brother. From the mountains to becoming a dock laborer, to achieving today’s success—it’s just incredible.”
Hearing this, Hong Mingquan felt light as air, his grin stretching to his ears.
At first, he’d tried to hold back a bit, but by the end, he couldn’t stop smiling.
The more he looked at Chen Ming, the more pleasing he found him.
He almost wanted to drag him to a tavern for a hearty drink—that would be delightful.
Just then, Chen Ming gently reminded, “Senior Brother, I think the half hour is up. Shouldn’t they be done with stance training?”
Hong Mingquan snapped out of it and looked at the nearby sundial—it was indeed time. He shouted at the boys, “You can stop now!”
Immediately, those boys, who had long been at their limit, all collapsed to the ground, unable to stand.
“They’ll need a bit to recover. Junior Brother, let’s keep drinking. Back in the day, I—”
…
They chatted for another half hour.
By then, the students had almost recovered.
Chen Ming took the opportunity to steer the conversation toward the trainees.
Though Hong Mingquan seemed reluctant to stop, he knew it was time for business. He stood and said, “Come on, Junior Brother, go test these kids' skills.”
“Sure, Senior Brother.”
The two of them walked over to the boys resting in the shade.
Without needing a prompt, the students all stood up straight.
He called out, “Now it’s sparring time. Who’s first?”
None of the dozen or so boys responded.
No one wanted to be the first to step forward.
Seeing this, Hong Mingquan called out directly, “Li He, you go.”
The named boy walked out nervously, his body stiff and his steps awkward, drawing a round of laughter.
The laughter only made Li He more nervous, his face flushing red, not knowing what to do with his hands.
“Silence!” Hong Mingquan barked.
At his command, the boys dared not make a sound and instantly quieted down.
Chen Ming looked at the boy and said gently, “Li He, don’t be nervous. Just perform your moves the way you usually practice. Don’t worry about hurting me.”
“Yes.”
Li He finally relaxed a bit, set his stance, and launched into the first move of the Three Talents Fist—White Rainbow Piercing the Sun—striking straight toward Chen Ming’s chest.
It was clear he had no experience at all; the move was badly distorted.
Just watching it made Hong Mingquan fume.
He decided to make the boy repeat the Three Talents Fist ten extra times today.
Chen Ming only defended without counterattacking, giving the boy full room to perform.
Halfway through, Li He’s fear faded.
Finding that the adult wasn’t so intimidating, he grew confident, and his movements became smoother.
When he reached the thirty-sixth and final form of the Three Talents Fist, Chen Ming suddenly tapped him on the chest, sending him staggering backward.
Li He seemed unconvinced and wanted to continue, but Hong Mingquan stopped him, “That’s enough. You lost.”
[You have defeated an LV1 enemy. Gained 2 experience points.]
There it was!
Seeing the prompt before him, Chen Ming felt a surge of excitement.
There were fifteen boys present.
Sparring with each of them would net him thirty experience points.
All that flattery had been worth it.