Keeping the Appointment

The sky gradually brightened, its light shining into Zhang Ling’s eyes. Helplessly, he opened them and leapt down from the rooftop. His body and mind felt clear, his strength abundant.

Zhang Ling patted his stomach. “Well, if I’m going to get beaten, I’d better eat my fill first, so I have the energy to resist,” he murmured, heading straight for the kitchen. Whatever he saw, he grabbed and ate, as if this were his last meal.

Once he'd eaten and drunk his fill, he walked toward the main gate. He hadn’t gone far when Zhang Jingqian came walking toward him.

“Brother, let’s go!”

Zhang Jingqian didn’t reply, silently watching Zhang Ling, but Zhang Ling paid no mind and continued toward the gate. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he heard Zhang Jingqian call out from behind.

Turning, Zhang Ling answered, only to see a fist sweeping toward him. Instinctively, he leapt back, expecting to be unable to dodge, but he suddenly felt light on his feet, and in one fluid motion, he evaded the blow.

“Congratulations, Ling! You made a breakthrough under pressure. Now you can face Yuan Teng with confidence.”

At that moment, Zhang Ling was still dazed, unable to process what had happened. “Is that all it took?” Clearly, he found it hard to believe.

Zhang Jingqian nodded.

“But why didn’t I leave a residual shadow?” Zhang Ling asked.

“That requires inner force. Right now, you can’t yet create a shadow with your steps. But for the current stage, it’s more than enough,” Zhang Jingqian explained.

Overjoyed, Zhang Ling immediately tried to recall the sensation from just before, then leapt again. His body felt as light as a feather, and with a few quick movements, he found his exertion greatly reduced.

After a while, Zhang Ling stopped, unable to hide his delight.

He paused, then asked, “I know that a crisis can push one past their limits, but I tried before and it never worked. Why now?”

Zhang Jingqian smiled, “Your foundation wasn’t solid enough. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t succeed in one leap. Besides, this is my unique technique. I have a general sense of when you’d master it, but only you truly know your own situation.”

Zhang Ling’s bright eyes narrowed in thought, then relaxed, as if he understood something.

“Well, since you’ve learned the technique, it’s time to keep your promise. Once you enter the martial world, never miss an appointment.”

“You’ll understand in time.”

Zhang Ling didn’t quite agree; to him, the martial world was perilous, and caution was the key to survival.

The two walked shoulder to shoulder. In this moment, Zhang Ling’s confidence soared. The so-called inner restraint and outward arrogance—this was it.

Following Yuan Teng’s earlier directions, Zhang Jingqian accompanied Zhang Ling to the entrance of a martial arts school, with the sign above reading: Yuan Guest Martial Arts School.

They exchanged a glance, and Zhang Ling strode ahead alone. Zhang Jingqian, hands clasped behind his back, followed a few steps behind, entering with a steady, confident stride.

Inside, the sight was a crowd of muscular men, bare-chested, some training alone, others sparring. Off to the side stood Huang Hao and Jiang Wen, looking anxious as they watched Zhang Ling approach, quickly coming over. It was clear they were terrified.

Zhang Ling couldn’t help but laugh, “Serves you right.”

Before they could speak, all the men in the hall stopped, surging toward Zhang Ling with a threatening air, regarding him as if he were a lamb to be devoured.

One stepped forward, speaking arrogantly, “You’re Zhang Ling?”

Zhang Ling glanced at Zhang Jingqian, who looked indifferent, clearly unwilling to intervene.

He then turned back, raising his chin, “Yes.”

The group of men burst into laughter, openly mocking him.

“Hahaha, with that scrawny body, you think you can fight our young master? You must be tired of living! One punch from me and you’ll be crawling.”

Zhang Ling’s expression didn’t change. He pointed to the chest muscle over the man’s heart, noting a slight change in heart rate—proof that the man was all muscle, with no true cultivation. Zhang Jingqian had observed Yuan Teng’s steady steps earlier, not just watching his footwork, but sensing his unchanging heart rate as he walked. Zhang Ling knew he couldn’t achieve that yet, so he deliberately pointed to probe.

“If you’re not convinced, let’s fight first.”

Huang Hao and Jiang Wen were startled, not expecting Zhang Ling to be so bold on someone else’s turf.

The big man raised his fist, ready to strike, but a loud, youthful shout stopped him.

Yuan Teng emerged, looking serious. He glanced first at Zhang Jingqian behind Zhang Ling; seeing no movement, he relaxed. He knew Zhang Jingqian was a true master—if he wanted to fight, the entire school wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Yuan Teng walked up to the big man and scolded, “I invited Zhang Ling here for a match today. If you fight him first, even if I win, people will say I’m dishonorable.”

Yuan Teng pushed the big man aside and faced Zhang Ling. “Since you’re here, let’s begin.” The two walked onto the platform together, while the men below grew rowdy.

Not to lose face, Zhang Ling adopted a confident, casual posture. “Since it’s a match, we need a wager. If you lose, you’ll be my little brother.”

“Fine,” Yuan Teng agreed without hesitation. “If you lose, I’ll be the big brother.”

Before Zhang Ling could prepare, Yuan Teng punched, and Zhang Ling quickly raised his arm to block. The punch landed on his lower arm, pain flaring as he gasped softly.

“You hit hard.”

The punch seemed ordinary, and indeed it was. But for an average person, it would have meant a broken bone. Even after three months of bitter training, Zhang Ling only barely managed to withstand it—any more and he’d surely suffer fractures.

Yuan Teng ignored Zhang Ling’s words, throwing punch after punch. This time, Zhang Ling didn’t try to block directly, but moved lightly, dodging several blows.

Seeing this, Yuan Teng’s eyes widened; his punches grew faster and faster, but Zhang Ling dodged them all, or, if he couldn’t, diverted the force with a hand.

After a quarter of an hour, Yuan Teng was panting, breathing heavily, his face flushed with exertion and frustration. “If you’re a man, stop dodging and fight me head-on!”

“Come on!” Zhang Ling beckoned, glancing at him.

Hearing this, Yuan Teng charged again—just as Zhang Ling had hoped. Sidestepping the attack, Zhang Ling pressed a hand on Yuan Teng’s shoulder, then leapt up, intending to throw him off. But he found Yuan Teng’s footing unshakable.

Yuan Teng reached to grab Zhang Ling’s leg but missed; Zhang Ling twisted away, landed, and took advantage of Yuan Teng’s surprise to launch a punch at his chest—though it hit solidly, it had no effect.

The two continued to grapple, neither gaining the upper hand even after several more minutes.

Finally, when both were exhausted, Yuan Teng lunged again, his footing unsteady. Zhang Ling suddenly grabbed his arm, spun, and threw Yuan Teng off the platform.