Chapter 8: Taking the Stage

Very soon, after Ping Yongfeng had demonstrated the entire routine, he looked at the group. “Did you memorize it? Someone come up here and practice!”

Silence fell over the crowd.

This set of Black Fiend Stake Technique comprised eighty-one movements in total, along with specialized breathing and internal circulation methods. Unless one had an extraordinary memory, how could anyone remember everything after seeing it just once? To step forward now would almost certainly invite embarrassment and ridicule from the others. Even though the students recognized the benefit of being personally instructed by Ping Yongfeng, pride got in the way, and hesitation was their first reaction.

Suddenly, a voice rang out, “Master Ping, I’ll do it!”

It was Zhuang Jin who spoke up decisively.

What everyone else had thought about, he had considered as well: he might make a fool of himself and become the butt of jokes. But so what if they laughed at him? His character valued practical gain over empty reputation—just as he hadn’t thrown away money for show before the inn’s attendant last night, now, where there was an advantage to be gained, he would seize it, regardless of others’ opinions.

“Very well, you then.” Ping Yongfeng nodded, motioning Zhuang Jin forward. “Begin.”

Zhuang Jin took a deep breath and, relying on his memory, assumed the stance. But scarcely had he started before he was interrupted.

“Your posture is off! How can the stake technique have any effect if you do it like this?”

As he spoke, Ping Yongfeng pressed down on Zhuang Jin’s shoulder. Zhuang Jin instantly lost his balance and staggered, almost falling over, provoking a round of laughter from the crowd.

Zhuang Jin’s expression did not change. He quickly adjusted and continued the demonstration, but soon received another scolding from Ping Yongfeng.

“You’re far too stiff! Are you trying to act like a corpse? Your body should be like a pine, your waist like a drawn bow, your spine like a great dragon!”

“And what’s with your breathing? Are you about to burst? Sink your breath to your core!”

…

Ping Yongfeng was not known for his patience. At the slightest mistake, he would unleash a harsh tongue-lashing, sharp enough to keep the other students laughing non-stop. Someone with a weaker mindset would have already lost focus and fumbled, but Zhuang Jin remained unruffled, seemingly unaffected by the jeers. He corrected each error according to Ping Yongfeng’s guidance. Under the proper technique, he soon began to feel the circulation of energy and blood within his body.

Of course, not every student was there just to sneer. Xiong Lei and some of the sharper ones stopped watching for amusement and began following Zhuang Jin’s movements, practicing along on the side.

Watching Zhuang Jin’s increasingly precise form, Ping Yongfeng nodded imperceptibly. He mused to himself, “This boy has a steady temperament, but according to my assessment, his constitution is somewhat lacking—his vital energy is insufficient.”

‘What a pity!’ Based on his experience, those with a weak constitution found the first step—‘grasping the energy and refining internal breath’—much harder than the average person. Being a step behind at the start meant always falling behind, making it unlikely they would become a true martial artist or remain in the long run.

When Zhuang Jin finished, Ping Yongfeng waved him down. “Next!” he called, looking at the group.

With Zhuang Jin having gone first, the others were less afraid of ridicule. The advantages of being personally corrected by Ping Yongfeng outweighed their embarrassment. This time, seven or eight students immediately volunteered.

Ping Yongfeng swept his gaze over them and selected the burliest among them, Xiong Lei. “You.”

After Xiong Lei’s demonstration, he picked another tall student. When three had gone up in turn, Ping Yongfeng addressed the group. “You all get it now? Practice on your own from here.”

The remaining students were taken aback. They had assumed Ping Yongfeng would guide each of them individually. How could it be over so soon?

Had Ping Yongfeng known what they were thinking, he’d have scoffed, ‘Wishful thinking!’ His monthly pay was divided into a basic salary and a task stipend; as a teaching instructor, he earned barely a tael of silver a month. How dedicated could they expect him to be?

Naturally, once he’d fulfilled the minimum teaching requirement—one incense stick’s worth of time—he left the students to practice on their own.

A couple of quick-witted students tried to slip some coins to the gray-robed attendants who distributed blankets, hoping to curry favor and get extra instruction from Ping Yongfeng. To their surprise, he flew into a rage and scolded them roundly, then hurried off the practice grounds, as if eager to avoid them entirely.

…

After Ping Yongfeng left, the students had no choice but to practice the Black Fiend Stake Technique on their own.

Zhuang Jin and Xiong Lei were about to go off to one side to train when Qian Wende sidled over, wearing a fawning smile. “I owe you both for what happened earlier. Let’s practice together, shall we?”

Zhuang Jin glanced at him. “No need. You saw how I was scolded when I went up—I can’t even get it right myself. I’d just end up misleading you.”

Practicing together would inevitably mean helping one another, but both he and Xiong Lei had already received Ping Yongfeng’s guidance. Did they need Qian Wende’s help? In fact, it was Qian Wende who stood to gain from them.

Clearly, the man was angling for a free advantage! And if Qian Wende didn’t make much progress, he might even suspect them of sabotaging him.

Why agree to such a thankless task? Just because Qian Wende had the gall to ask?

If the man thought Zhuang Jin would accept out of politeness, he was gravely mistaken—Zhuang Jin was not one to refuse someone just for the sake of appearances.

“Suit yourself!” Qian Wende replied, still grinning. He had only hoped to establish some rapport—whether it worked or not, it was worth a try.

Soon after, a few more students approached, proposing to practice together, but Zhuang Jin politely declined with the same excuse.

After they left, Xiong Lei shot a look at Qian Wende and muttered in disgust, “Forget the others, but that Qian Wende had a falling out with us before—he really has the nerve to come over?”

“There are all sorts in a crowd of a thousand. There’s no need to let it bother you. Let’s focus on practice and strive to grasp our energy, refine our breath, and complete the first stage as soon as possible.”

“Alright!” Xiong Lei agreed, then scratched his head a bit sheepishly. “Hey, Jin, there were a few moves I couldn’t quite remember…”

“No worries. Let’s go over them together.”

Xiong Lei was quite unlike Qian Wende. Not only had he and his father’s presence earlier helped Zhuang Jin avoid possible trouble, but now that they were part of the Shen family, even if Zhuang Jin was set on training and wanted to avoid other entanglements, it was still wise to be on guard. Teaming up with Xiong Lei would help keep them both from being bullied.

In truth, once they got down to training, Zhuang Jin didn’t have to help much. Xiong Lei, having already received Ping Yongfeng’s guidance on stage, just needed Zhuang Jin’s reminder on two or three points before he grasped them fully and could practice on his own.

Not far from them, several other students watched and imitated their movements. Of course, Zhuang Jin and Xiong Lei couldn’t stop others from observing, but everyone’s physical constitution differed; merely copying the surface would never match the effect of Ping Yongfeng’s personal corrections. At best, they could learn the form, but the true details would remain elusive.

…

Immersed in practicing the Black Fiend Stake Technique, time flew by, and soon it was a quarter past noon.

At that moment, Ping Yongfeng returned to the training grounds. “That’s enough for this morning—go have your meal!”

“The canteen provides free food, but martial training uses up a lot of energy. If you can afford it, I’d recommend buying your own meals—the paid food is richer, which helps with energy cultivation. Breakfast is five coins, lunch and dinner ten coins each, or six hundred for a monthly pass.”

…