The Hall Master of the Black Tiger Hall, a bulky man named Guo Tong, stood trembling.
The thirty remaining disciples had retreated to the walls, nursing bruised limbs and fractured egos.
Their great Hall Master, the master of the Crushing Rock Fist, was alone against a scrawny boy holding a cheap bamboo broom.
"You! You are an arrogant child!" Guo Tong roared, his face redder than a cooked radish. He slammed his fists together. Kwang! "I don't know what hidden master taught you, but the brute force of the Black Tiger Hall will crush you and your agility!"
He charged. His feet tore up the flagstones of the courtyard. The air compressed around his hands as he launched his signature attack.
Crushing Rock Fist: Avalanche of Might!
The punch came straight and heavy, a terrifying display of raw external martial arts. It was a technique designed to break bones and shatter shields.
Lei Feng yawned again.
"Agility? Is that what you think you are fighting?"
Just as the fist was about to impact his chest, Lei Feng shifted. It wasn't a dodge. It was a slip.
Dragon Step: Flowing Current.
He disappeared from the spot, not moving backward or sideways, but dropping slightly and sliding half an inch past the devastating punch. The wind from Guo Tong's attack whipped Lei Feng's hair, but the fist missed entirely.
The Hall Master, having committed all his force, stumbled forward, completely off-balance.
WHIP!
The broom moved. It wasn't used for striking. It was used for tripping. Lei Feng swept the brittle bamboo low across Guo Tong's massive ankle.
The Hall Master, unable to stop his momentum, fell.
THUD!
He hit the dirt face-first. His helmet of a beard cushioned the blow slightly, but the humiliation was absolute. He tried to scramble up, but Lei Feng stood casually on the small of his back, using the full weight of Disciple Jin's small body to pin the giant down.
"See, idiot?" Lei Feng's voice was light and condescending. "My Thunder Dragon Sect does not teach agility. Our sect teach something greater than that."
He poked the Hall Master's ear with the tip of the broom. "Now, the pig and the taels. Where is your vault?"
Guo Tong choked on the dirt. "N-never! The Black Tiger Hall will never surrender to a mountain brat!"
Lei Feng sighed dramatically. "Very well. Sect Leader Wei Han."
Wei Han peeked out from behind the sack he was holding. He looked like a frightened badger.
"Y-yes?"
"I am going to break this muscle-brain's arms one finger joint at a time. It will take roughly fifteen minutes. If he is still screaming when I reach the wrist, you can start burning his prized collection of calligraphy scrolls. Do you understand?"
Wei Han nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Caligraphy scrolls first, then arms!"
Guo Tong screamed, his face still in the dirt. "Stop! Wait! Don't touch them! The vault key! It's under the statue of the Black Tiger! Take it! Just don't touch the scrolls!"
Lei Feng smirked. He hopped off Guo Tong's back and waved a hand toward the frightened Sect Leader.
"Go on. Get the sack ready. I want the finest cuts of meat and at least three bottles of decent liquor."
The return trip was significantly more cheerful.
Wei Han, burdened by a heavy sack bulging with silver taels, jars of pickles, two wheels of cheese, and several bottles of strong liquor, practically skipped down the mountain path. Lei Feng was trailing him, occasionally kicking a loose pebble at the back of Wei Han's head.
"Ancestral Master... that was incredible!" Wei Han breathed, tears of joy streaming down his face. "We haven't had this much money since... since you were alive! We have enough for food for a year!"
"A year?" Lei Feng scoffed, kicking him harder. "That money is barely enough to buy the tools necessary to start training. Did you really think I did that just so we could buy gruel for twelve months?"
...
They arrived back at the pitiful Thunder Dragon Sect just as the sun was setting.
Lei Feng immediately ordered a feast.
The kitchen, usually reserved for boiling water, was filled with smoke and the glorious smell of roasted pork.
Lei Feng sat at the collapsed table, now balanced precariously on a stack of broken roof tiles, and devoured the roasted meat, washing it down with powerful spirits.
"Ah," Lei Feng sighed, leaning back and patting his now slightly rounded stomach. "Now that is what it means to be a martial artist. Body and spirit satisfied."
Wei Han was nervously picking at a small piece of pork skin. "Master... if we spend the money, the Black Tiger Hall will be back."
"Let them come," Lei Feng said, tossing a bone over his shoulder. "They paid protection money. If they come again, they will pay more. It is a simple business transaction."
He finished his drink and stared intensely at Wei Han.
"But we can't rely on my weak body forever. I am still operating with the qi of a sick sparrow. We need to cultivate."
Wei Han brightened up. "Yes! I knew you would teach me! The Thunder Dragon Method is a supreme technique! Where do we begin? Meditation? Qi circulation?"
Lei Feng stood up and stretched. He grabbed his bamboo broom and walked to the desolate training ground.
"You waste your time with meditation," Lei Feng announced, tapping the broom against the Sect Leader's scrawny ribs. "Your dantian is clogged with weakness, failure, and rice gruel. No amount of gentle breathing will fix that."
He gave Wei Han a cold, uncompromising look.
"The Thunder Dragon Method is violent. It is based on shattering and remolding the body until the qi has no choice but to break through the blockages. We need to force it."
Wei Han gulped. "Force it? How?"
Lei Feng raised the broom high over his head.
"It is simple. The first lesson is called: Endure the Blows of the Ancestor."
Wei Han's eyes widened. "Endure... but... without training... that will hurt!"
"Hurt?" Lei Feng shrieked, his voice climbing an octave. "You think you can face the true Murim world without pain? You are a joke! Now, drop and give me fifty stomach kicks!"
"F-fifty?!"
"NO! Fifty is for warm-up! Drop and brace yourself! If you move, I will double the quota and use the sharp end!"
Wei Han closed his eyes, let out a pathetic whimper, and curled into a ball on the ruined training ground.
WHACK!
The sound of the broom meeting the Sect Leader's body echoed through the silent mountainside.
Lei Feng was screaming instructions, insults, and occasionally demanding why the Hall Master's pig wasn't fattier.