Chapter Twenty-Two: The Pinnacle

Above the first rank? Nangong Wentian was not entirely certain, but he could confirm such a realm existed.

“A first-rank warrior can cut down a thousand soldiers—what kind of panorama must await beyond the first rank?”

On his way home, Yang Fan’s thoughts seethed with unrest. His yearning for the path of martial cultivation only deepened, his resolve growing stronger.

“Brother Fan, back so early?” At the entrance of the alley, Lin Xiaoyu waved at him.

“I passed the apprentice assessment. From now on, I’m an official disciple of the Hall of Universal Benevolence, with a monthly stipend—and I’ve been granted three days’ leave!” Yang Fan shared the good news with a bright smile.

“Really?” Lin Xiaoyu’s eyes sparkled. Delighted, she said, “Brother Fan, you’re amazing! You must come over for dinner tonight. We’ll celebrate for you!”

“Alright!” Yang Fan did not decline.

“Heehee, I’ll go tell my father to get things ready!” Lin Xiaoyu skipped away, brimming with joy.

Yang Fan smiled to himself.

At home, he took out two books. Yes, Nangong Wentian had given him two martial arts manuals, elevating Yang Fan’s opinion of that young master.

One was Fierce Tiger Fist; the other, Gale Slash.

Examining the fist technique, Yang Fan nodded in approval. “Much better than the Wild Ox Fist. According to Nangong Wentian, martial arts manuals are ranked: ungraded, low, middle, and high. Wild Ox Fist is ungraded.”

Ungraded techniques merely serve to lay a foundation. Once one becomes a warrior—even at the ninth rank—further cultivation yields scant effect.

Fierce Tiger Fist was a low-grade martial art, able to drive one’s vital energy, temper the body, and enhance strength.

Gale Slash, a saber technique, leveraged the explosive surge of vital energy to amplify its power.

After memorizing both techniques, Yang Fan put them away.

In the center of his courtyard, Yang Fan bowed, then loosed his fist with a howl, beginning his practice of Fierce Tiger Fist. This technique was fierce and masculine, brimming with indomitable force.

Thanks to his foundation in Wild Ox Fist and the support of his “Mountain Ranger” fate, he picked it up quickly—after practicing only two or three rounds, he had already grasped the basics.

As he moved through the forms, vital energy gathered within him, coursing throughout his body. With each repetition, his body grew stronger, his vitality more robust.

But the expenditure was great. By sunset, his stomach was growling in protest.

“To train the body is to consume—wealth is needed for martial cultivation. The adage holds true: the poor master the pen, the rich the sword.”

Yang Fan now understood this viscerally.

After stopping, he washed up simply and sat on a stool, silently pondering the key points of the techniques—the transfer of vital energy between moves, the timing of its concentration and transformation, and so forth.

As the sun set, Lin Xiaoyu arrived. “Brother Fan, dinner’s ready. Hurry up!”

“Already? Aren’t you busy at this hour?” Yang Fan was surprised.

“We closed early, just for your celebration!”

“This…”

A wave of warmth surged through Yang Fan’s heart.

Thinking of his predecessor’s life, Yang Fan realized how exceptionally kind Uncle Lin Dashan had always been to him.

“Brother Fan, you don’t know—when my father heard you’d passed your assessment early, he was over the moon! He’s made a feast just for you. He’s never treated me so well,” Lin Xiaoyu chattered, skipping along.

They soon arrived at the entrance of the little tavern, where a “Closed” sign hung on the door.

Not far off, Da Hu was dragging his sister along, hurrying in their direction.

Yang Fan waved at them with a smile and stepped inside.

The tavern was small but neat and tidy.

Tonight, they had moved away most of the tables, leaving only one in the center, piled high with food—chicken, duck, fish, and more.

“Uncle Dashan, I’m not an outsider. There’s no need to go this far.” Yang Fan was a little embarrassed.

“It’s precisely because you’re not an outsider that I wanted to make it special,” Lin Dashan replied with a laugh. “Business comes every day, but you only take this first step once. It must be celebrated.”

“Uncle Dashan, what about me? Will my celebration be this grand if I pass my assessment?” Da Hu barged in, eyes shining at the sight of the banquet.

“Of course! You’ll get your share,” Lin Dashan said, smiling. “Come, sit down.”

“As if!” Aunt Chen snorted. “If you were half as well-behaved as Fan, I’d count my blessings.”

“Mother, at least I’m an apprentice at the Hall of Universal Benevolence now. How many in town can say that?” Da Hu grinned in pride. “You don’t know—today, Fan was the center of attention. For his assessment, Manager Liu, the resident physician, and both the young masters came. In the end, everyone was amazed by Yang Fan.”

With animated gestures, he retold the events of the assessment.

Lin Dashan and his wife, Aunt Chen, Yang Erni, and Lin Xiaoyu listened in rapt attention, exclaiming in surprise from time to time.

“Fan has truly come into his own—good, good, very good!” Lin Dashan was moved. “Come, let’s toast Fan! Just one glass!”

The company raised their cups.

Since coming to this world, it was Yang Fan’s first time drinking. He drank with joy, with contentment, and with genuine happiness.

For the first time, he felt a real sense of belonging to this world.

The night deepened, and the celebration ended.

At home, in the courtyard.

Da Hu had come too, dragged along by Yang Fan.

“Do you want to learn martial arts?” Yang Fan asked seriously.

“Of course I do, but there’s no way in,” Da Hu replied with resignation. Then his eyes went wide. “I heard about your bet with the young master Nangong—you really got a martial art manual? No way, absolutely not! He gave it to you, and if you pass it to me, it’ll be trouble. I won’t learn it, not even if you beat me! Fan, we’re brothers, but you must know your limits. If you offend the Hall of Universal Benevolence, your whole future is ruined.”

He shook his head and waved his hands emphatically.

“Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t dare teach you!” Yang Fan laughed. “Not long ago, I happened to find a fist technique at home. It’s probably something my father acquired by chance before his accident—he never had the chance to teach me. Now that I’ve got a new one, I’ll pass the old one to you. Will you learn it?”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“I still don’t believe it. I won’t learn it. Fan, my good brother, if you care about me, wait until you’ve achieved real success and ask for one for me then. But right now, we can’t risk making a mistake.”

Suppressing his desire, Da Hu still shook his head.

“Watch this!” Yang Fan, feeling reassured, stopped arguing. He stepped forward and performed the Wild Ox Fist.

His movements were fluid and powerful, the ferocity matched by a certain graceful ease.

“Now watch again!” After a pause, Yang Fan performed the Fierce Tiger Fist, this time with less fluency, pausing intentionally here and there.

After finishing, Yang Fan said, “The first one I found at home; the second is from Nangong Wentian. Can you tell the difference?”

“You were telling the truth?” Da Hu burst out in joy. “Ha! Fan, my good brother, teach me! Teach me!”

He nearly lunged at Yang Fan in excitement.

Yang Fan quickly stepped back and said sternly, “You know how rare martial arts manuals are. Once you learn it, you must never pass it on. Never tell anyone—practice in secret, and only on your own.”

“I know what’s important!” Da Hu nodded vigorously.

“Then let’s begin.” Yang Fan started teaching the Wild Ox Fist, breaking down each move, explaining the underlying principles—the true essence of the technique.

To his astonishment, Da Hu memorized the whole routine in a single round.

By the third repetition, he had already mastered it.

“You’ve already learned it!” Yang Fan said, feeling a mix of emotions.

“That’s it? So simple?” Da Hu scratched his head. “Easier than memorizing a text, by far.”

“You’ve learned it,” Yang Fan replied, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had Da Hu sit down, then began to explain the basics of the martial path—how to prepare for a breakthrough, how to condense martial blood energy, and so on.

“Da Hu, once you become a true warrior, I’ll get you a saber technique.”

“Really?”

“Get lost!”

“Alright!”

Da Hu scampered away, full of enthusiasm.

Yang Fan smiled to himself.

The next day.

Da Hu arrived early, practicing in Yang Fan’s courtyard.

Yang Fan paid him no mind.

Each practiced his own technique. Even when Yang Fan trained with the saber, Da Hu did not so much as glance over.

Though he only practiced here mornings and evenings, Da Hu’s progress was visible to the eye—Yang Fan could clearly sense it.

He could feel Da Hu’s internal energy growing stronger by the day.

Yang Fan himself was making great strides.

For three days, Yang Fan spent most of his time training at home, only venturing out to the market to see if he might stumble upon any hidden treasures.

Unfortunately, he found nothing.

He did, however, buy plenty of meat on his return—extra nourishment for his training.

On the fourth morning,

Having finished his practice, Yang Fan sensed the bottleneck of the ninth martial rank.

In other words, he was at the very peak of ninth rank.

“Am I advancing too quickly?” He couldn’t help scratching his head.

Even when he first reached ninth rank, he noticed that the vital energy within him was denser than Yang Tai’s or the others—now it was at least twice as thick.

He could only attribute this blessing to the awakening of his “Mountain Ranger” fate.

“Da Hu, it’s time to go!” After packing up, he roused Da Hu from his training.

Ever since he’d received the martial art, Da Hu had thrown himself into practice, wasting not a moment.

“Alright!” Stretching his arms, Da Hu’s joints crackled thunderously—his constitution was truly extraordinary.

They parted ways at the main street.

Da Hu headed to the northern school, while Yang Fan turned toward the Hall of Universal Benevolence.

Nangong Wentian had instructed him to report here after his leave.

Upon entering the medical hall, Yang Fan’s eyes first swept over a particular drawer on the medicine cabinet—inside was a spiritual herb.

Its glow was dazzling.

But the storeroom held even more spiritual treasures.