Yang An gave an honest smile, then pulled a smoothly polished wooden tablet from his robes and handed it to Yang Jing. "I was chopping trees a while back and saw this piece of wood was sturdy, so I carved a tablet for you. Take a look."
Yang Jing took the wooden tablet. It felt smooth and warm to the touch. A simple character, "Jing," was carved on it. Although the strokes were crude, it was clear that effort had been put into it.
"Thanks, Brother An."
Yang Jing put the wooden tablet away and looked at Yang An's increasingly sturdy physique. "You've been tempering your qi and blood recently, haven't you?"
Yang An nodded. "I train for two hours every morning and evening. When my arms get sore, I rest for a bit. Once I've recovered, I go back to lifting rocks."
Yang Jing nodded. An idea struck him, and he pulled Yang An into the courtyard. "Come on, Brother An. Show me your kicks."
Without a word, Yang An planted his feet firmly and kicked his knee up sharply into the air.