Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

"Today I'll teach you how to kill."

With just one sentence from Liu Changqing, the training ground fell into complete silence.

Jiang Lan clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into the calluses on his palms, and sweat instantly seeped from his hands—for a whole month, he had endured standing in the stance until his legs felt like lead and starving himself to the limit, and he had finally waited for this day.

"You have completed a month of stance training," Liu Changqing said, crossing his arms and sweeping his cold gaze over the new disciples. "From today onwards, you may attend morning classes with the senior disciples and formally practice your boxing techniques."

He paused, his voice deep and resonant: "What I, Liu Changqing, teach is not just a theatrical performance for show; it's a killing technique that can save your life, secure your future, and help you pass the martial arts exam."

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly assumed a horse stance, bringing his fists to his waist, lowering his shoulders and elbows, and focusing his energy on his dantian. The next instant, his right fist shot out like an arrow released from a bow, the wind whistling as it exploded with a muffled thud.

"Crushing Mountain Fist, First Form - Tiger's Might." He squeezed out his voice through clenched teeth, "It trains power. When the fist is not thrown, it is nothing. But when it is thrown, it is like a tiger unleashed from its cage, breaking bones and shattering filth with a single blow."

His waist and hips twisted suddenly, and his left fist swept out from under his ribs, tearing the air with a sharp whistling sound, like a steel whip piercing the sky.

"The second move, Tiger Swing. Like a tiger whipping its tail, it avoids the strong and strikes the weak, attacking when the opponent is unprepared."

Immediately afterwards, he threw out both fists at the same time, his body following the movement of his fists, his whole body like a tiger descending the mountain and pouncing into the void, landing with both feet stomping hard, the blue bricks trembling slightly.

"The third move, Tiger Pounce. A head-on crushing assault, leaving no way out."

After the three moves were completed, the entire arena fell silent. The new disciples stared intently, and Jiang Lan held his breath, trying to memorize every detail of the starting stance, the twisting of the waist, the punch, and the retraction of the force.

This was the real skill he was desperately trying to learn; it wasn't just fancy moves, but the ability to protect himself and his mother.

"This is the Mountain-Crushing Fist, the signature move of the Guangchang Martial Arts School." Liu Changqing withdrew his fist, exhaled from his dantian, and his breathing became steady. "Sun Gengsan!"

"Disciple is here!" Sun Gengsan immediately stepped forward and solemnly assumed a defensive stance.

"Watch closely, this is how you use the three-hit combo."

Liu Changqing's aura suddenly changed, like a tiger gathering its strength. He stomped his right foot, causing the ground to tremble slightly, and his right fist, wrapped in a strong wind, slammed out—it was the Tiger's Might. Sun Gengsan crossed his arms to block, grunted, and took three steps back, leaving two shallow marks on the blue bricks under his feet.

Without pausing, he shifted his body, powered by his waist and hips, and unleashed a powerful punch, aiming for Sun Gengsan's ribs. Sun Gengsan dared not take the blow head-on and hastily dodged to the side. The force of the punch grazed his clothes, tearing a gash.

"Third move!" Liu Changqing shouted, throwing out both fists like a tiger pouncing on its prey, pressing down on Sun Gengsan's chest. Sun Gengsan tried his best to protect his chest, but was still sent flying backward, crashing heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

The training ground was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. After a long while, a disciple swallowed hard and whispered, "If that punch hit an ordinary person, their bones would be shattered, right?" "Did Instructor Liu really pass the martial arts exam with this kind of punch?"

Liu Changqing glanced at Sun Gengsan, who was getting up, nodded slightly, turned to look at everyone, and said with a proud smile, "Yucheng's number one martial arts scholar relies on this Mountain-Crushing Fist."

He declared firmly, "It is indeed I."

The disciples were in uproar, their admiration evident in their words.

"Remember, boxing techniques are just about memorizing the patterns of strength and footwork," Liu Changqing said, his voice lowering the noise. "When facing an enemy, forget the routines and focus on one thing: defeat the enemy with the fastest, most ruthless, and most accurate moves. Attacking their vital points is the true killing technique."

He concluded by surveying the entire room, his voice booming: "If you want to get ahead, then train with guts and determination!"

"Yes!" the disciples responded in unison, their voices echoing so loudly that the ground buzzed.

Afterwards, under the guidance of the senior disciples, the new disciples began to formally practice the Bengshan Fist. Sun Geng distributed the boxing manual three times and patiently explained the key points of the movements.

"Tiger's punch doesn't rely on brute force of the arms; the core lies in the twisting of the waist and hips." He demonstrated by turning to the side, twisting his waist and hips, and his fist flew out with the wind. "The power originates from the feet, travels through the waist to the fist, and only when the power is continuous can it be powerful."

He then demonstrated a dodging footwork technique: "When encountering an enemy wielding a knife, sidestep to avoid the attack, and at the same time punch the wrist pulse point. This is the principle of avoiding the attack and striking the pulse, and it is the basis for dealing with weapons."

Sun Gengsan was burly, but his footwork was light and agile. In the blink of an eye, he demonstrated the entire set of dodging and counter-attack movements.

Jiang Lan focused intently, memorizing every word of advice and every detail, and practiced repeatedly, getting into position and striking the punches one by one.

His month of stance training paid off; his shoulders became thicker, he grew taller, and his punches became more stable.

When he first smoothly connected the power from his foot to his fist, a golden light flashed in his mind—clear and burning hot, a heat flowed through his whole body, his sore shoulders and back instantly relaxed, and his fist power also increased by three points.

Heaven rewards diligence; no effort is ever wasted.

[Body Structure: Average (formerly Lower Middle)]

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 1/300】

【Crushing Mountain Stance Exercise: 167/300】

A surge of heat coursed through his body, and a low growl seemed to urge him forward.

Jiang Lan suppressed his excitement, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and continued throwing punches.

Tiger's Leap, Tiger's Swing, Tiger's Pounce—he repeated these movements over and over again. He didn't know how many times he would need to practice to be able to knock his opponent away like the instructor. He only knew that he would keep practicing until the day he reached that level.

At noon, the disciples dispersed from the dining hall. Jiang Lan spent five coins to buy a bowl of hot porridge and two multigrain steamed buns. The porridge contained only a few vegetable leaves, and the steamed buns were rough and sour, but they were enough to replenish the energy he had used up while practicing his boxing.

He sat in the corner eating slowly, feeling the pinch of spending 150 coins a month. But he had no choice; practicing boxing was extremely taxing, and the gruel at home simply couldn't sustain his body.

He looked down at his hands, old wounds repeatedly cracking open, new calluses overlapping old ones, hard as tree bark. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms covered in bruises and swollen marks, his shoulder and back muscles aching unbearably, every movement causing excruciating pain. He had never uttered a word about these injuries to his mother.

In the evening, Jiang Lan dragged her heavy legs back to the small fishing boat by the river. Before she even entered, she smelled the faint aroma of herbs mixed with fish soup. Cheng was squatting in front of the stove adding water, and a small earthenware pot on the stove was bubbling away, brewing medicine.

"Mother, I'm back."

Cheng turned around and immediately noticed that his left leg was stiff and dragging as he walked. Her tone was soft but full of concern: "What's wrong with your leg?"

"It's nothing, I twisted my ankle while practicing boxing." Jiang Lan pretended to be fine, smiled as she sat down and took off her shoes, deliberately trying to steady herself.

Without asking any further questions, Madam Cheng brought over a bowl of hot fish soup: "Drink this first to warm yourself up."

The soup was clear and bland, with very little fish or meat, but the steam made Jiang Lan's eyes sting. He knew that the family was running out of salt, and his mother was reluctant to add more.

Cheng squatted down in front of him, took his hand, and ran her rough fingertips over the calloused wounds on his palm. She silently took out a pottery jar from her bosom, scooped out her homemade herbal ointment, and carefully applied it to his cracked wounds.

This ointment was made by my mother before dawn by collecting herbs by the river. The ointments from the pharmacy were too expensive, so she could never afford to buy them.

"Mother, I can do it myself..."

"Don't move." Cheng's voice was slightly hoarse as she carefully applied the ointment to each crack, her eyes reddening, but she held back her tears.

After applying the ointment to her hands, she covered the earthenware jar and put it back in her arms. She raised her hand to touch Jiang Lan's thin cheek and said softly, "Your father passed away early, and my son and I have suffered for so many years. I am not capable enough to buy you good food or raise money for medicinal baths... But I know you are determined. Focus on practicing martial arts. I will take care of things at home."

Jiang Lan clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white, her voice low but ruthless: "Mother, once I've mastered this, we'll never be bullied again, and no one will dare to bully us."

Cheng nodded and turned to continue her work. Jiang Lan watched her hunched back. His mother had been weaving nets day and night; her back was long since bent, and the calluses on her hands were thicker than his own, her knuckles deformed. He took a deep breath, walked to the bow of the boat, and, facing the biting night wind, once again assumed a horse stance and began practicing his Mountain-Crushing Fist.

Each punch was heavier than the daytime punches, carrying his obsession with protecting his mother and his determination to become stronger. He wanted to become strong enough to let his mother eat meat every meal and no longer have to stay up all night to work hard, strong enough to get back all the humiliation he had suffered.

In my mind, the golden words lit up again, even more dazzling than the daytime.

【Crushing Mountain Fist (Beginner): 3/300】

……