Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

Chapter 8 Showdown

The mother's hands wouldn't hold for much longer.

The fishing festival is still nine days away.

The new leader of the Black Tiger Gang who manages the docks has yet to make an appearance.

Jiang Lan didn't have time to think about these things hanging over her head. Before dawn, she was already standing on the training ground.

Besides him, there were two other poor disciples, each in a horse stance. The only sound in the arena was the soft whistling of fists cutting through the air; no one spoke.

Not long after, Sun Gengsan arrived carrying a cloth bag. He grinned when he saw Jiang Lan and said, "You're here first again, kid."

"Third Senior Brother." Jiang Lan bowed with his fists clasped.

Sun Geng waved his hand and walked closer, glancing at him from head to toe, his brows furrowing slightly: "You've been training too hard lately, does your shoulder hurt?"

Jiang Lan was taken aback and subconsciously moved his right shoulder—the soreness was indeed quite intense, but he had never mentioned it to anyone.

"I can tell just by looking at your punching stance." Sun Gengsan sighed. "In the Tiger's Might stance, in your pursuit of power, you force your shoulders when twisting your waist and hips. This will inevitably injure your joints over time. I used to make the same mistake and had to lie in bed for half a month."

He took a packet of medicine out of his cloth bag and stuffed it into Jiang Lan's hand: "This is a medicinal bath I made myself. Take a bath with it when you get home tonight. It will help improve blood circulation and remove blood stasis. Don't use it sparingly."

The medicine packet felt heavy in his hand, and the bitter smell of herbs hit his nose. Jiang Lan's throat tightened: "Third Senior Brother, this..."

"Stop dawdling." Sun Geng patted his shoulder. "Also, don't practice too late in the afternoon. Martial arts training is a marathon, not a sprint. If you ruin your body, it's all for nothing."

Jiang Lan gripped the medicine packet tightly and nodded emphatically: "Thank you, Third Senior Brother."

Sun Geng hummed in agreement and turned to greet the other disciples.

Jiang Lan carefully tucked the medicine packet into her bosom, pressing it against her chest; the herbs still carried the warmth of Sun Gengsan's body.

He took a deep breath and resumed the starting stance of the Mountain-Crushing Fist.

This time, he deliberately slowed down. His punches were no longer delivered with brute force, but rather by twisting his waist and hips, the power originating from his feet, passing through his waist, and then reaching his fist. He closed his eyes, feeling the flow of energy within his body—like an invisible line, climbing up his leg bones from the soles of his feet to his spine, and then bursting out from his shoulders.

With a punch, a dull thud resounded through the air, heavier and more solid than before.

He opened his eyes and stared at his fist. So this was it—power.

Sun Gengsan, who was not far away, caught a glimpse of this out of the corner of his eye, and a smile quietly crept onto his lips.

Jiang Lan's fighting became increasingly smooth, alternating between the Tiger's Leap, Tiger's Swing, and Tiger's Pounce techniques, each punch getting closer to that explosive core. He was no longer just imitating the movements; he truly understood—the fist wasn't thrown with the hand, but with the whole body.

Sweat dripped down his chin and onto the ground, soaking his clothes, but he was completely unaware.

As he stood still, a flash of golden light suddenly appeared in his mind—

Heaven rewards diligence; no effort is ever wasted.

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 4/300】

[Martial Arts Comprehension: 1]

Jiang Lan was taken aback. Comprehension? This item had never appeared before. Was it triggered today because he grasped the essence of internal energy?

—Does improved comprehension mean that one's speed in understanding and learning martial arts will increase?

He suppressed the turmoil in his heart, wiped away his sweat, and walked towards the wooden stake.

In the afternoon, he stopped practicing his boxing and focused solely on stance training. Stance training is the foundation; without a solid foundation, boxing techniques are nothing but castles in the air.

He gripped the ground with both feet, knees slightly bent, back straight, and arms outstretched. A tingling sensation crept up from his heels to his shoulders, but he gritted his teeth and remained motionless.

As the sun began to set, the training ground was bathed in a dim, yellowish light. All the other disciples had long since left, leaving only Jiang Lan, whose shadow stretched long in the setting sun.

【Crushing Mountain Stance Exercise: 183/300】

……

Just then, footsteps came from the connecting corridor.

Jiang Hao, dressed in clean blue training clothes and holding a boxing manual, had clearly just returned from his master's place. Passing by the training ground, he saw Jiang Lan on the training pole and paused.

Under the setting sun, Jiang Lan's figure stood straight as a pine tree. Although he looked tired, his posture was steady and solid, a stark contrast to a month ago.

Jiang Hao observed for a few moments, then said calmly, "If you can master the Mountain-Crushing Fist, you'll have no problem getting a job as a security officer at a镖局 (escort agency) in the future."

Jiang Lan jumped off the stake, panting, "How did you know?"

"I can tell from your stance training foundation," Jiang Hao said casually, but nodded. "You're definitely much more stable than before."

Jiang Lan didn't respond.

Jiang Hao suddenly said, "Come down and spar with me."

Jiang Lan was taken aback. To exchange blows?

"I'll use the Mountain-Crushing Fist." Jiang Hao took off his outer robe and draped it over the wooden stake, then walked to the center of the arena. "Don't worry, I won't use my full strength."

Jiang Lan hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.

The two stood facing each other, three steps apart.

"Let's begin," Jiang Hao said.

Jiang Lan took a deep breath, stepped forward with his right foot, twisted his waist and hips, and his right fist shot out—Tiger Strike.

Jiang Hao slightly shifted his body, deflected Jiang Lan's fist with his left hand, and at the same time, his right fist, like a venomous snake, burrowed in along Jiang Lan's arm and stopped an inch in front of his chest.

"Too slow." Jiang Hao withdrew his fist. "Let's try again."

Jiang Lan gritted his teeth, and his second punch followed immediately. This time he added a variation, immediately turning his Tiger Strike into a Tiger Swing, his fist flipping out from under his ribs and sweeping towards Jiang Hao's side.

Instead of retreating, Jiang Hao advanced, ducking to avoid the punch, and simultaneously lunged into Jiang Lan's arms. Jiang Lan felt a tremendous force surge through her, staggering back several steps and nearly falling.

"The force has been broken." Jiang Hao stood still, his breathing steady. "The pause in the middle of the Tiger's Strike is the opening."

Jiang Lan steadied himself, panting heavily, but a fierce determination to win surged within him. He stared intently at Jiang Hao's shoulder—the shoulder moves before a punch is thrown.

The third move.

Jiang Lan didn't rush to throw a punch. She took half a step forward and feinted a Tiger's Strike. Jiang Hao instinctively sidestepped to block, but Jiang Lan suddenly changed her move, twisting her waist and hips, and Tiger's Sweep swept out from the other side.

This time, the fist grazed Jiang Hao's clothes.

Although he missed, Jiang Hao's expression changed. Instead of surprise, he nodded slightly: "Interesting."

Jiang Lan gasped for breath, and golden light flashed in her mind again—

[Martial Arts Comprehension: +1]

Jiang Hao patted the dust off his clothes and said, "You know the Black Tiger Gang wants to poach me, right?"

Jiang Lan was taken aback, not expecting him to bring this up suddenly.

"I won't go," Jiang Hao said calmly. "But my second uncle and aunt think the Black Tiger Gang is rich and powerful."

He didn't say anything more, picked up his outer robe, and turned to leave.

Jiang Lan stood in the training ground, watching his figure disappear into the twilight.

He wouldn't join the Black Tiger Gang, but his second uncle and aunt were tempted. Was this a reminder, or just a casual remark?

Jiang Lan shook her head, unable to understand, and dragged her aching body out of the martial arts gym.

It was completely dark, and the streets were nearly deserted. He was looking down at the events of the day when a figure suddenly darted out from the alleyway and bumped into him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the man apologized hastily, but when he looked up, he was stunned. "Jiang...Jiang Lan?"

Jiang Lan also recognized him—Li Antian.

More than a month later, Li Antian was still dark and thin, his face showing the exhaustion of his strength. He was wearing a coarse cloth short brown shirt, the kind he wore when he worked at the docks, with frayed edges on the cuffs.

"Brother Yasuda." Jiang Lan felt a surge of warmth in her heart.

Li Antian sized him up, his eyes wide, his gaze sweeping over the martial arts uniform before settling on the thick calluses on his hands: "You...you really joined a martial arts school?"

"Yes, Guangchang Martial Arts School, a formal disciple." Jiang Lan nodded.

Li Antian opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything for a long time. He reached out and touched the fabric of his training clothes, as if to confirm that he wasn't dreaming.

"Fine...fine!" His voice trembled. "I knew you were no ordinary kid!"

Jiang Lan looked at his rough, cracked fingernails, and a feeling she couldn't quite describe welled up inside her: "Yasu-nii, how have you been lately?"

Li Antian gave a wry smile: "What else can I do? Work at the docks. Six coins a day, and the foreman deducts from it. I'm lucky if I can even get enough to eat."

He paused, then rubbed his hands together. "My wife's been having stomach cramps lately, so I'm going to the pharmacy to get her some medicine. Anyway, you keep training hard, don't end up like us, wasting your whole life at the docks."

He patted Jiang Lan's arm and left in a hurry.

Jiang Lan stood there, watching his figure disappear into the dim alley.

A month ago, he was in the same boat. He was doing odd jobs, being penalized, and didn't know where he'd be tomorrow.

He was now wearing the martial arts school's training clothes, his hands were calloused from practicing boxing, and he had a medicine packet given to him by his senior brother in his pocket.

Not the same.

He clenched his fists, turned around, and walked home.

Pushing open the door, I saw Cheng sitting under the oil lamp weaving a net. The shuttle flew between her fingers, but the speed was much slower than before—her hands were terribly swollen, and she had to grit her teeth and exert force with each needle.

"Mother, I'm back."

Mrs. Cheng looked up and smiled: "Are you hungry? There's still porridge in the pot."

Jiang Lan walked over and squatted down beside her, looking at the half-finished fishing net: "Mother, how much more is left?"

"We still need a dozen or so more." Cheng's voice was very soft, without a single complaint.

Jiang Lan didn't speak, but picked up the shuttle beside him and started weaving. His finger strength had increased from practicing boxing, and he could thread the needle twice as fast as before.

Cheng stared at his hands for a moment, then lowered her head and continued weaving the net.

The mother and son did not speak. The flickering flame of the oil lamp cast their shadows on the boat deck, one tall and one short, close together.

After finishing weaving a net, Jiang Lan got up, boiled a pot of water, and poured in the medicine packet that Sun Gengsan had given her.

Steam rose, and the bitter smell of medicine filled the air. He took off his clothes, revealing bruises all over his body—his shoulders, arms, and back—patches of blue and purple, mottled and uneven.

He gritted his teeth and stepped into the wooden tub. The scalding medicine soaked into his wound, feeling like countless needles piercing his flesh.

pain.

He gripped the rim of the bucket tightly, his knuckles turning white, veins bulging on his forehead, but he didn't utter a sound.

Standing outside the door, listening to the suppressed groans inside, Cheng paused, her shuttle in her hand momentarily still, and her eyes instantly reddened. She didn't go in; she simply turned around and continued weaving the net.

Jiang Lan soaked in the medicine with her eyes closed, several images flashing through her mind: Li Antian's hunched back, Jiang Hao's helpless words "I won't go," and her mother's hands swollen like steamed buns.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the wounds on his body.

He's still a long way off, but he's on his way.

The fishing festival is still eight days away. The new leader has yet to appear, but the Black Tiger Gang's influence has already extended into the martial arts school. This situation is bound to become murky sooner or later.

He clenched his fist, and the medicine splashed out of the rim of the bucket.

can't stop.

Just then, there was a sudden, urgent knocking at the courtyard gate, accompanied by Grandpa's angry shout: "Jiang Lan! Get out here right now!"