Journey to the Capital

Zhang Ling rose from the ground, wincing as he rubbed his bruised backside. With a hint of annoyance in his voice, he said, "Uncle Zong, did you have to be so rough?"

Zong Chentian remained unconcerned, yet praised him, "Not bad. To have cultivated inner force so quickly—your talent for martial arts is exceptional."

"Of course," Zhang Ling replied proudly. "Uncle Zong, as we agreed, can I venture out into the world now?"

Zong Chentian nodded. "Where do you plan to go?"

"First, I'll visit the capital," Zhang Ling answered with determined eyes, as if he'd made up his mind long ago. "You won't tell me anything about my parents, so I'll investigate myself. Honestly, I think you want me to go there too."

Zong Chentian readily agreed, "Very well. You may leave tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"Yes. In three months, the selection for Chengdao Academy will be held. Once you're admitted, it will be easier and safer for you to look into your parents' affairs." Zong Chentian spoke, though for reasons unknown, he truly wished for Zhang Ling to search for the truth himself, as if everything had already been prepared.

Chengdao Academy was the largest in Chen Kingdom, admitting only prodigious students. Many official families sought to send their descendants there, but the academy never accepted the talentless or spoiled, not even princes. Supported by the royal family, none dared object. Graduates could become officials directly, and the previous emperor of Chen Kingdom granted them a remarkable favor: academy disciples could meet the emperor without kneeling.

Thus, it was clear how much the emperor valued talent and Chengdao Academy.

After some thought, Zhang Ling realized entering Chengdao Academy was indeed the best option. He said, "Then I'll go say my farewells."

As Zhang Ling turned to leave, Zong Chentian suddenly called after him.

Zhang Ling looked back, "What is it?"

"It's time to teach you a new martial art," Zong Chentian said solemnly. "What you've learned so far are basic, gentle techniques. When fighting someone, it's hard to gain the upper hand."

"What kind of martial art?"

Zong Chentian didn't answer directly. He pressed his palm against Zhang Ling, transferring his inner force. It was the same method Zhang Jingqian had once seen him use—a sign of a top-tier technique. Zhang Ling cleared his mind and focused.

He threw a punch into the air, aiming at a tree trunk in the courtyard. The moment his hand touched the tree, a surge of true energy burst from his palm.

After withdrawing his fist, Zhang Ling examined the tree. There was no change, not even a single leaf fell. "What? It's useless."

No sooner had he spoken than the tree collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Zhang Ling stared in astonishment. Such an ordinary punch held such power. "What is this technique?"

The blue sky and drifting clouds, breaking stars, hidden in motion, moving mountains—

"This punch is called 'Cloudbreaker,'" Zong Chentian said slowly.

Zhang Ling marveled, "Impressive, though it's only one punch."

Zong Chentian shook his head. "This is only the first punch of the Sky Cloud Fist. There are three in total, but I can't teach you the other two yet—they're too conspicuous. Skilled martial artists can recognize them at a glance."

To know a master by their moves—a newcomer to the martial world might not be famous, but those with experience could identify one's teacher by their technique.

The power of Cloudbreaker was evident. Zong Chentian worried that, once Zhang Ling reached the capital, he'd be recognized and possibly targeted.

Following the sensation from before, Zhang Ling tried the punch himself and, astonishingly, mastered it on his first attempt—it was easier than he'd expected.

"Alright, wait for me at the west city gate tomorrow. There's something else I need to give you." With that, Zong Chentian departed without another word.

Zhang Ling left the courtyard as well, heading to the Yuan Guest Martial Hall to bid farewell to his friends.

Under a sky of endless blue and layered clouds, the streets teemed with traffic. Zhang Ling gazed at it all, feeling a sudden wave of emotion: leaving now, who knew when he'd return?

He felt reluctant, but his yearning for the world was stronger. As he wandered in thought, he saw Huang Hao running toward him, panting heavily.

Urgently, Huang Hao said, "Zhang Ling, something's happened!"

"Hey, I'm fine, don't jinx me," Zhang Ling replied seriously.

"No, it's Yuan Teng—something happened to him."

"What happened?"

After catching his breath and sorting his thoughts, Huang Hao continued anxiously, "Yuan Teng was tricked into a gambling house. He's lost who knows how much. You know he's not the brightest..."

Before Huang Hao could finish, Zhang Ling cut him off, "Which gambling house?"

He didn't need to ask for details; he could guess it was another foolish mishap. In the martial world, even recruiting followers required caution.

Before him stood a gambling house—the largest in Luochuan County, Le Silver Gambling House. No wonder even Yuan Teng could be duped.

Though Yuan Guest Martial Hall held some prestige in Luochuan, not everyone respected it. After all, the law still prevailed, so these people weren't afraid of retaliation.

Zhang Ling entered the gambling house, which was filled with private rooms of all sizes for gambling. Huang Hao led Zhang Ling to the room where Yuan Teng was.

At a gambling table, only two men were playing. One was Yuan Teng, while the other was a shifty-looking middle-aged man with two tufts of beard at his lips, stroking them as he grinned slyly. The room was crowded with onlookers.

Zhang Ling squeezed in, standing beside Yuan Teng, and slapped the table, shouting, "Hold on!" Instantly, all noise ceased.

Yuan Teng looked up, his tense expression relaxing as he called out joyfully, "Big brother!"

The middle-aged man sneered, "What, here to wreck the place?"

Zhang Ling ignored him and asked Yuan Teng, "What's going on? Tell me."

Yuan Teng pointed at the man, his face full of indignation. "He insulted me, said I'm only good at fighting and nothing else, so we started gambling."

Zhang Ling was speechless and smacked Yuan Teng's head. "He's not wrong. Can't you have a bit of self-awareness? Is it so hard to admit you're simple-minded?"

He asked, "How much did you lose?"

"Five thousand taels," Yuan Teng replied.

Zhang Ling was shocked. As expected, every gambling house was a money pit. Five thousand taels wasn't much for such a place.

"Quite a loss," Zhang Ling finally addressed the middle-aged man. "I am Zhang Ling, this fool's big brother. May I ask your name?"

The man respectfully raised his hand, grinning, "So you're Young Master Zhang. I am the owner of this gambling house, Qian Le. Are you here to stand up for Yuan Teng?"

Zhang Ling waved his hand and smiled lightly, "Not at all. I simply feel like playing a few rounds with you, Mr. Qian."