Morning light had just begun to pierce the edges of the courtyard when Chen Mo stepped out of his small room. The faint aroma of sizzling buns and tea drifted from the street stalls, and he soon ran into Jia Tao, already chattering about his plans to start buying the body-nourishing soup regularly. Chen Mo only nodded, listening quietly, letting the younger youth’s excitement wash over him without comment.

  Training began immediately afterward, and the morning session passed in a blur of motion and focus. Chen Mo’s body moved with the discipline carved by archery, and he gained another two points in his mastery of the Silver Crane Stance. By midday, during the short rest, Chen Mo approached Master Lian, asking if he might take a few days off. The elder looked at him with a measured gaze. “Attendance matters only insofar as the inspectors can give guidance. If you wish to come and go, that is your choice. Just ensure your fees are up to date,” Master Lian said, dismissing the formality with a flick of his hand. Relief washed over Chen Mo; with this, he could plan a hunting trip while continuing his training under the panel’s watchful registration. “Thank you, Master,” he said, bowing slightly. Master Lian waved him off casually, already turning back to inspect another trainee.

  Lunch was simple—ten steamed buns from the morning, eaten quickly and efficiently. Afterward, he returned to the yard and resumed training, adding one more point to bring his total to ten out of a hundred. As the day drew to a close, Chen Mo hastily said his goodbyes to Jia Tao and the other youths, his mind already shifting to the afternoon’s plans. Back at his room, he took a quick bath before stepping out to grab a small meal and meet Zhou Heng.

  Zhou Heng’s eyes brightened when he saw Chen Mo. “How is the training going?” he asked.

  Chen Mo smiled. “Progressing well,” he replied. Zhou Heng nodded, encouraging him to continue diligently. Then Chen Mo explained his intention to hunt in the nearby forests to supplement his funds. Zhou Heng’s expression darkened slightly, worry lining his brow. “Be careful,” he said, frowning. “Other hunters frequent those woods—most belong to martial halls or even the gang. If you act carelessly, you might provoke more than you can handle.” After a pause, Zhou Heng’s concern softened. “I understand why you need to do this. Just stay cautious.”

  Chen Mo inclined his head, the faintest smirk on his lips. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, though inside he already ran calculations, planning his route and estimating gains.

  After leaving Zhou Heng, Chen Mo returned to his room and slept through the night, letting the quiet of the city fade behind his eyelids. At dawn, he woke, the first pale light spilling across the trade house courtyard. He bought breakfast at a nearby stall and prepared his gear carefully, checking his bow, arrows, and knife with the precision of habit. By mid-morning, he stepped out of the city gates and into the nearby forests. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth immediately washed over him, stirring memories of months spent hunting since his arrival in this world. Each step, each cautious footfall, reminded him of the rhythm he had carved into his body, the reflexes honed through countless hunts.

  Deeper into the woods he went, eyes scanning for anything of value. Ordinary hares or pheasants would not satisfy him anymore; with a single bowl of body-nourishing soup costing three taels, he needed something far more lucrative. His mind calculated silently: the forests were rumored to host wild boars with thick hides and prime meat, foxes whose pelts could fetch several hundred coins in the city, and even young deer wandering near the northern glades—each a prize worthy of careful pursuit. Today, he decided, he would seek one of these rare quarry, anything that could earn at least five hundred coins if handled correctly.

  With bow ready and senses sharpened, Chen Mo moved silently through the underbrush, each rustle of leaves, each distant call of a bird, feeding his focus. The forest had always been a teacher, and today it would either reward his patience or test his limits.

  Chen Mo crept deeper into the northern glades, where the sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy. His eyes flicked across every shadow, every subtle movement. Then he caught it—a flash of russet fur, low to the ground, moving cautiously near a cluster of berry bushes. A fox. Its pelt alone could fetch nearly 500 coins in the city.

  He crouched, feeling the familiar calm of his archery training settle over him. The forest noises dimmed in his awareness, replaced by the soft crunch of leaves beneath his own feet and the fox’s careful steps. He nocked an arrow, muscles coiling, eyes tracking the animal’s heartbeat through instinct and long practice.

  The fox froze, sniffing the air, alert. Chen Mo exhaled slowly, his grip steady. One precise release, and the arrow flew true, striking the creature cleanly. It let out a sharp yelp and collapsed, the forest instantly returning to its natural chorus of birds and wind.

  Chen Mo approached cautiously, not out of fear but respect for the hunt. The fox was small yet valuable, a perfect reward for his careful morning. As he carried it, he contemplated that if he could maintain this efficiency—making roughly one tael of silver per day—it wouldn’t be a problem to support his daily expenses. It was still far from enough, but it would suffice for now.

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  He continued to hunt some ordinary games along the way before returning to the trade store. There, he sold his haul for a total of 950 coins, tallying it in his mind and already planning how to manage the money for soup, lodging, and training.

  After tidying himself and grabbing a quick bite at a nearby stall, Chen Mo made his way toward the martial hall. By the time he entered, the youths were enjoying the midday rest.

  Jia Tao spotted him and laughed, shaking his head. “I thought you gave up.”

  Chen Mo smirked lightly. “I still need to work alongside training. I’m not like the others—I have no backing.”

  Jia Tao nodded, showing understanding, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Hey, have you ever wondered why there are no girls training with us?”

  Chen Mo shrugged, indicating he didn’t know.

  “Well,” Jia Tao continued, “most families won’t send their daughters to train among guys. But I heard the hall trains some girls in a separate courtyard. Those girls are mostly sisters or daughters of martial hall experts, so they get special treatment.”

  Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “What about the sons and brothers of the martial hall experts?”

  Jia Tao glanced away. “See those five youths over there? Notice how Master Lian and Wei give them extra care?”

  “You mean…” Chen Mo began.

  “Exactly,” Jia Tao said. “They’re scions of martial arts hall experts. Even if they fail to sense qi—which is impossible with the resources they get—at least they can secure a position as attendants. They have everything set up for them.”

  “Oh,” Chen Mo said simply, absorbing the information.

  Soon he excused himself and headed to the cafeteria, spending three taels on a bowl of body-nourishing soup. The bitter, thick liquid warmed him from the inside, restoring energy for the evening session. With renewed focus, he resumed practicing the Silver Crane Stance, determined to make up for the morning. By the end of the session, the panel reflected his progress: 17/100. Efficiency had risen noticeably, and with the soup sustaining him, he was far from exhausted.

  After the evening session, Chen Mo returned to his small room at the trade store and began tallying his modest wealth. Only four taels remained. Calculating quickly, he realized that if he continued making roughly one tael per day from hunting, he could afford a bowl of body-nourishing soup every three days. Combined with the free bowl provided by the hall, he would effectively manage two bowls every three days—just enough to maintain efficiency without overextending.

  He glanced at the panel, which now displayed his Silver Crane Stance progress at 17/100. A quick mental calculation told him that at his current pace—earning six or seven points per day—he would need around twelve to thirteen more days to fully master the stance. Even by the hall’s standards, that was remarkably fast.

  Deep in thought, Chen Mo leaned back, letting the numbers settle. There was no need to rush; he would maintain a steady rhythm, trusting that the results would come in time. Mastery would happen when it happened, and for now, careful planning and patience were his allies.

  The next day, Chen Mo arrived at the hall around midday, having completed his morning hunt and sold his haul at the trade store. As he stepped through the courtyard, a ripple of commotion caught his attention. Curious, he scanned the crowd and spotted Jia Tao weaving through the trainees.

  “Hey, what’s happening?” Chen Mo asked.

  Jia Tao’s face broke into a mischievous grin. “Oh, you came just in time! You missed all the excitement this morning,” he laughed.

  “Excitement?” Chen Mo raised an eyebrow.

  “You really don’t know?” Jia Tao shook his head in mock disbelief. “One of the trainees sensed qi and blood today.”

  “Really?” Chen Mo’s interest piqued.

  “Yes!” Jia Tao leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “It was Liu Shen, Master Lian’s nephew. And get this—it only took him twelve days! Master Lian was praising him nonstop. Everyone’s a little envious.”

  Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “And where is Liu Shen now?”

  Jia Tao chuckled. “Of course he won’t be staying here anymore. Master Lian took him to register as a formal disciple. From now on, he’s a different class from us.”

  “Formal disciple?” Chen Mo repeated, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Yes,” Jia Tao replied with a sigh. “I’m so envious. If only my old man funded me better, I could afford two bowls of the body-nourishing soup every day and really improve my chances.”

  Chen Mo shrugged slightly. “Let’s go back to training, lest Master Lian scold us when he returns.”

  With that, Chen Mo returned to the practice yard. He trained steadily until evening, gaining five points. Tomorrow, he would receive another free bowl of nourishing soup, keeping his routine on track. He paid little mind to the progress of others—he knew his own progress was certain, measured, and inevitable. Yet he kept up appearances, blending in with the group to avoid drawing attention.

  Another day ended quietly, with Chen Mo returning to his room, eating his meal, and falling asleep, ready to continue the steady climb tomorrow.