As he stepped out of the Martial Arts Hall's main gate, he happened to see Lin Yue boarding a luxurious carriage. The carriage was made of ebony, inlaid with silver-thread patterns, and pulled by two fine horses. The driver wore a respectable short robe of silk. It was clearly the kind of spectacle one would expect from a wealthy family.
As the carriage started to move, faint sounds of laughter could be heard from within. 'He must have been invited to a banquet by another great family.'
"Senior Brother Lin is so lucky. All the prestigious families in the city dote on him." A passing menial worker muttered quietly, his voice full of envy.
Yang Jing glanced up at the departing carriage before looking away, his steps light as he headed toward Datong Square.
The evening breeze brushed against his cheeks, carrying the bustling scent of the city. He thought of the bag of gold, silver, and old ginseng under his bed, and a sense of security washed over him.
Lin Yue's path was paved with flowers and brocade; his own was trodden from mud and sweat. Though different, they were both paths they had forged for themselves, step by step.
As for the admiration and envy of others, such things never occupied his thoughts.
As night deepened, Yang Jing walked the road back to Datong Square. The stone slabs under his feet gleamed white in the moonlight.
When he reached the outside of his courtyard, he could faintly hear the voices of the other tenants inside. An idea suddenly sparked in his mind.
Sharing a place with others was cheap, but it was also rather inconvenient.
He was afraid of disturbing others when he practiced his fists at night, and he constantly had to be on guard with the valuables hidden under his bed.
Furthermore, he was planning to start practicing the "Raging Wave Legs" he had just acquired, and his small room was simply too cramped to perform the moves properly.
Yang Jing felt the silver in his robes and thought of the gold and other valuables under his bed. His pace slowed.
Now that he had some money, perhaps it was time to find a small, private courtyard.
It would be best if it were close to the Martial Arts Hall. For one, it would be convenient for training, saving him a lot of time otherwise wasted on the road each day. For another, if he ever ran into any real danger, it would be a quick run to the Hall, where he could find some measure of protection.
Yang Jing began to seriously consider buying a courtyard.
He was quite well-off now and could afford a better environment, which would also make it more convenient for him to practice his martial arts.
He mused to himself that the courtyard didn't need to be too large; a main house with a side room, a kitchen, and a small yard would be enough.
As for the price, it would be a few dozen taels of silver at most. With his current wealth, he could definitely afford it.
There was no rush to find a courtyard. Yang Jing knew of some brokers—people who handled real estate transactions, much like the agents from his past life. Alternatively, he could ask his Fourth Senior Brother tomorrow. He knew the city well and might be able to find something suitable.
Having a plan in mind, his steps became lighter.
Having his own courtyard would make it convenient to practice martial arts and store his things.
Entering the courtyard, Yang Jing returned to his room, lit the oil lamp, and took out the "Raging Wave Legs" manual from under his bed.
The manual's cover was rough, and its pages were a faded, ancient yellow. The opening page began with a line of large characters: "Leg techniques are founded on agility, sharpened by speed, surging like the endless, roaring waves."
Yang Jing flipped through the pages, growing more astonished with each one.
This leg technique, just like Mountain-Shattering Fist, had a complete path for cultivation and advancement, from Mingjin to Anjin, and even to the legendary Huajin. Every realm had detailed training annotations.
The difference was that Mountain-Shattering Fist was known for its sheer ferocity; wherever the fist landed, nothing could withstand it.
"Raging Wave Legs," however, focused more on agility, emphasizing that "footwork follows the body, and kicks are born from footwork." When mastered, one's Body Technique would be like a fleeting shadow, with speed far surpassing that of an ordinary person. Its raw attack power, however, was far inferior to Mountain-Shattering Fist.
"So it's a supplementary art," Yang Jing murmured to himself.
He had only skimmed through the "Raging Wave Legs" booklet before, but now, upon closer inspection, he was quite surprised and delighted.
Mountain-Shattering Fist was for offense, and Raging Wave Legs was for speed. If he could combine the two, complementing hardness with softness, his strength would surely soar.
Unable to restrain himself, Yang Jing stood up, walked to the center of the room, and began to practice the forms according to the diagrams.
He had barely taken half a step into the "Wave-Treading Stance" when his toe nearly kicked the leg of his table.
The "River-Churning Stance" required him to spin and swing his leg, but his lower back bumped into the edge of the bed.
The room was simply too small. He couldn't extend his legs properly for the techniques, and even the most basic footwork was clumsy and halting.
'Of course. I really do need a courtyard.' Yang Jing stopped, his brow furrowed.
The idea that had come to him on his way back was now stronger than ever.
Without a spacious area, there was simply no way to practice "Raging Wave Legs" properly.
Next, Yang Jing carefully put away the manual, tidied up, and practiced Mountain-Shattering Fist for another two hours. Then he blew out the oil lamp and lay down on his bed, but he felt no hint of sleepiness.
'I have to find a broker as soon as possible and make sure to get a detached house with a courtyard. Only with a proper training ground can I make real use of this leg technique.'
Moonlight streamed in through a crack in the window, reflecting the anticipation in his eyes.
'The ferocity of Mountain-Shattering Fist and the swiftness of Raging Wave Legs—the two will complement each other. If I were to face a Peak of Mingjin expert like Xu Tai again, I'm confident I could kill him, even if he wasn't already injured.'
...
In the days that followed, the town of Yuhe County gradually returned to its usual peace.
The authorities dispatched a few constables to investigate Xinghua Square. After looking at the charred ruins and asking a few questions of the nearby residents, they simply wrote a few words in the official file—"Accidental fire, Xu Tai perished tragically"—and considered the case closed.
Some people privately felt that Xu Tai's death was suspicious. How could a Mingjin master be trapped and burned alive in a fire?
But muttering in private was one thing; no one actually dared to file a formal complaint with the authorities.
The Great Fortune Gang usually engaged in heinous businesses like kidnapping for mutilation and loan sharking. They had offended too many people. With Xu Tai dead, many were secretly clapping and cheering. Who would possibly stand up for him?
As time passed, the talk on the streets about Xu Tai being burned to death gradually faded away.