Chapter 6: Two Fists
Early in the morning, Zhang Ji went to get breakfast. While he ate, Master Kui was preparing a medicinal paste for his martial arts training. This time, the quantity was large—enough for Zhang Ji to use for quite a long period.
“These should last you a while, and I’ve already given you the recipe. If you figure out how to make it yourself later on, you’ll be able to prepare it on your own,” Master Kui said.
“Are you leaving?” Zhang Ji asked.
“I can’t stay here forever. There are other matters waiting for me outside,” Master Kui replied, patting Zhang Ji on the shoulder. “Train well.”
“Mm,” Zhang Ji nodded. There was nothing more to say; everyone had their own choices and futures to face.
As he ate, Zhang Ji tried again to use his Boundary Space. His strength fluctuated, and he lost a bit of control, leaving a fingerprint on the metal chopsticks.
After finishing his meal, he went back to work.
Once Zhang Ji had left, Master Kui’s gaze lingered on the chopsticks marked with the fingerprint for a long time.
“Talent, huh...” he murmured.
He never expected to encounter such a prodigious youth in a place and time like this.
In three days, under such rudimentary conditions, Zhang Ji had grasped the basics of the “Iron Cloth” technique.
Not even in the history of the Vajra Sect had anyone heard of such a feat.
Master Kui had sensed something was off before—this training method, and Zhang Ji’s ability to practice it daily without fail.
Ordinary people might train once every ten days at best, which was already considered a gift of good constitution. Yet Zhang Ji trained every day, worked throughout the day, and recovered fully by night.
This kind of talent was beyond description.
He only knew that if Zhang Ji survived, if given more opportunities, he might create countless miracles.
But alas, it was on Shanli Island.
Alas, the Vajra Sect had been wiped out, and he was but one inconspicuous remnant disciple.
Alas, the times had changed; martial arts were no longer supreme.
Shaking his head with a smile, Master Kui lit a cigar and began cleaning his gun.
He raised the gun, took aim, and muttered, “This is better than fists!”
...
Master Kui left.
That night, Zhang Ji returned but found no sign of him—only the medicine he had prepared remained.
Zhang Ji did not dwell on it.
Their relationship was strictly transactional: he helped Master Kui cover his tracks and run errands, and in exchange, Master Kui taught him the “Iron Cloth” technique. It was fair.
After applying the ointment, Zhang Ji resumed training.
He struck his body with a wooden stick, tapping nearly every part.
While practicing, he extracted the essence of his combat skills and stored them in his Boundary Space. He vaguely sensed that his training efficiency had improved compared to the start.
It was not due to experience but some change in his body.
Although the combat skill essence had been extracted, the traces of practicing those skills remained in his body.
It was like a water bottle stretched wider by water—emptying the water didn’t shrink the bottle.
Thus, the benefits of the Boundary Space were not limited to removing marginal effects but also included hidden advantages. In this case, it effectively increased his potential.
Time passed—another three days.
That night, Zhang Ji acquired another skill essence.
He extracted it, now holding two “Iron Cloth” skill essences at the ordinary level in his Boundary Space.
With a thought, both skill essences were taken out and placed on his body.
Instantly, Zhang Ji felt a stretching pain; under the influence of the skill essences, unseen changes took place.
After a while, the abnormal sensation vanished.
He exerted slight force and threw two punches into thin air.
He felt his skin was tighter, muscles tougher, and bones more flexible.
After adapting, he found a water-filled tub in the corner, grabbed its edges, and lifted it with ease.
Compared to before, it felt much easier!
His overall strength had increased by at least thirty percent.
And this was just the change in strength; the “Iron Cloth” technique primarily enhanced defense.
Setting the tub down, Zhang Ji struck himself twice with the stick.
It felt like hitting thick leather—no pain, as if a heavy cloth shielded him. His blood circulation subtly surged, dissipating some of the force. This blunt force attack inflicted almost no damage.
With a thought, he stored the two skill essences away.
His slightly swollen muscles contracted, and the stretched skin returned to normal.
Everything reverted to how it was originally, except for the increased “bottle capacity”—no one would notice he’d practiced martial arts.
Time flew.
Fifteen days had passed since Master Kui left.
Zhang Ji continued training the “Iron Cloth,” maintaining a pace of gaining one skill essence every three days.
He now possessed six skill essences.
Watching television at a roast duck rice shop, he found the amateur fighters on screen unimpressive.
At least smashing a brick was something he could do—and better.
Kui District remained calm and peaceful.
Master Kui’s departure had caused no ripples.
Zhang Ji sensed no significant changes.
Goods continued arriving, and shops that should be open remained so.
Notably, Gu Jie had become a model student, prompting others to seek Zhang Ji’s help with literacy.
Yet Zhang Ji politely declined.
He preferred to devote more time to training.
He assigned Gu Jie homework and let him study independently.
He planned to clarify matters with Gu Ming later and have Gu Jie continue self-study.
For language, as long as one mastered the basics, progress came through extensive reading, writing, and practice.
Zhang Ji felt his skills didn’t qualify him to teach deeply.
“A large roast duck rice,” he said, dropping five batteries on the counter.
“Coming right up!” the owner replied after pocketing the money.
Recently, Zhang Ji’s appetite had increased—likely due to his martial arts training.
Soon, the owner brought the large portion, slamming it down on the table.
“Bang!”
...
“Bang!”
Gunfire rang out.
Master Kui hid behind cover, looking at Wu Chen beside him.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Master Kui, it was Xiao Chu who leaked the information—we didn’t betray you,” Wu Chen said.
“Chu Xiangwen?” Master Kui frowned. “Do you know why?”
“The other side promised him the title of new master of Kui District. A Jiao and Uncle Gao were both killed by him,” Wu Chen replied.
“Who’s behind him?”
“Unknown, only that he’s well-connected. Even Slant-Faced Guanyin works under them!”
“Hong Kang? He joined them too?”
Master Kui was baffled.
Could some force be trying to unify the region?
But the Eastern Extreme Kingdom would never tolerate a unified Shanli Island.
“Bang bang bang bang!”
“The firepower’s heavy—retreat for now...”
...
“Setting off firecrackers in the middle of the night??”
Zhang Ji frowned, puzzled.
He hadn’t heard gunshots clearly and was some distance away; the sounds were mostly of gunpowder, so he instinctively guessed firecrackers.
But upon reflection, it didn’t feel right.
Still, he didn’t dwell on it.
“No matter what, I must perfect the ‘Iron Cloth.’”
He resumed striking his body.
...
Under the quiet night, Zhang Ji returned home carrying a packed roast duck rice.
Normally, he didn’t eat roast duck rice at night.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, his “Iron Cloth” had reached completion.
He concentrated slightly; within the dark Boundary Space appeared a crystal emitting brilliant white light.
[Iron Cloth Crystal (Ordinary)] *1.
This was synthesized from ten skill essences.
It represented a complete martial skill.
In theory, it was the pinnacle state of the “Iron Cloth” technique.
“Too bad, the medicine’s almost gone. I can probably make only two more skill essences,” Zhang Ji sighed inwardly.
He didn’t know where he would find more in the future.
As he walked, he suddenly sniffed the air.
Kui District was filled with strange odors, but blood was rare.
Zhang Ji intended to avoid it but clearly, his opponent had no intention of letting him pass.
A shadowy figure emerged from an alley, aiming a gun-like weapon at Zhang Ji.
At that moment, everything seemed to slow in Zhang Ji’s eyes.
His heart paused; his pupils contracted sharply.
“Bang!”
The bullet struck Zhang Ji’s chest but was stopped just beneath the muscle’s surface.
The completed “Iron Cloth” revealed its defensive power for the first time.
The assailant prepared to fire again, but Zhang Ji reacted swiftly.
He pushed off the ground powerfully, raised his arms before his head, and charged forward.
The attacker, experienced, reloaded and shot once more.
“Bang!”
The bullet hit Zhang Ji’s right arm; his skin rippled as the bullet broke through the surface but was caught by the muscle.
At the same time, Zhang Ji closed the distance.
No flashy moves.
One punch!
The assailant tried to block but Zhang Ji’s punch shattered his arm.
“Crack!”
The elbow bent at a grotesque angle.
Zhang Ji spared no mercy and struck again—this time to the head.
“Crack! Pfft!”
The neck vertebrae snapped; the skull shattered, half the head caved in, and the man collapsed sideways, sliding on the ground.
He did not struggle—he was dead.
Watching this, Zhang Ji swallowed hard.
At that moment, his rapid breathing revealed his fear.
His only thought was: kill him!
So he extracted the skill crystal from the Boundary Space and delivered two more punches.
There was no finesse.
The first punch even struck the assailant’s arm, slightly off-angle, not fully exerting force.
After inspecting the body, Zhang Ji turned to leave.
After a few steps, he looked back, picked up the roast duck rice that had fallen earlier, and then hurried home.
Shortly after Zhang Ji left, several men arrived.
The leader was a burly man about 1.8 meters tall.
He wore a sleeveless undershirt, exposing both shoulders.
On his left shoulder was a tattoo of Guanyin, but the face had been slashed and sewn back crookedly.
Thus, the Guanyin lost its mercy and gained a sinister, eerie expression.
He crouched beside the corpse, examining the wounds with a puzzled look.
“Strong blows, but why so crude? Did he say something that broke Zhao Kui’s defense? Well, being betrayed by your own people, anyone would lose it!” Hong Kang chuckled, imagining Zhao Kui losing control and throwing punches.