Tiger Fist Perfected [Requesting Recommendation Votes]

This is exactly what he needs!

No matter how respectable a medicine boy may be, he is still a servant, whose life, death, honor, and disgrace are all tied to the whim of his master.

The guards, though servants, were free agents; their relationship was that of employees!

and.

Having the status of a nursing home means greater freedom of movement, a monthly allowance, and access to more resources.

Most importantly, the opportunity to learn martial arts!

To know.

In chaotic times, becoming stronger as quickly as possible is the key to survival!

"It is said that Du Fuwei's advance scouts have appeared thirty miles away, and time is of the essence." Old Zheng said slowly with a solemn expression, "The master has specially moved the selection forward to three days later, to be a public competition at the archery range within the mansion."

"Any male member of the household may register. You...would you like to give it a try?"

Su Yang took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement, and solemnly asked, "Elder Zheng, if I were to leave, wouldn't that... put you in a difficult position? I've been fortunate enough to be taken in and guided by you; if I were to leave now, wouldn't I be forgetting your kindness?"

Old Zheng's eyes showed even greater satisfaction. He shook his head and said, "The fact that you could think of this shows that you are not ungrateful. My intention in teaching you Tiger Form Fist was not to tie you to this medicine cabinet forever. You have talent and a strong will. It would be a pity if you were confined to a servant's position."

He paused, his tone gentle yet firm: "Go and register. If you're selected, you'll be a truly free person, no longer someone's servant. As for this place..."

Old Master Zheng smiled slightly: "The door to the medicinal cuisine room is always open for you. If you have time, you can come and help out or learn any skills. I still have some influence in the household. Since you call me 'Old Master Zheng,' I will treat you as a junior, not a servant."

These words were sincere and insightful, demonstrating a broad perspective.

A surge of warmth welled up in Su Yang's heart, and he bowed deeply: "I will never forget Elder Zheng's kindness in nurturing me! I... will certainly live up to your expectations!"

"Go."

Old Zheng waved his hand, his tone as usual: "These three days, the work in the medicinal cuisine room is fundamental and cannot be neglected. As for practicing boxing... once you've finished your duties, the back courtyard will be quiet, so you can manage your time as you see fit."

These words sounded ordinary, but they warmed Su Yang's heart.

Master Zheng didn't give him any special treatment, but he gave him what he needed most—a space where he could practice without interference and focus on his skills during every spare moment. This was more in accordance with the rules and showed more protection than simply giving him three days off.

"Yes, I understand! I will definitely not delay the work."

Su Yang bowed respectfully.

He understood; this meant he was being asked to "snatch" three days from his own time.

..........

The night was deep, in the outer room of the medicinal cuisine room.

Su Yang lay on his bunk, while the sound of Old Zheng's even breathing came from the inner room.

He lay in bed, his right hand tightly clutching the tiger bone piece the size of a pigeon egg.

During the day, I can only touch it intermittently due to various tasks, but now that everything is quiet, it is the time to sprint with all my might.

His fingertips repeatedly rubbed the bone surface, as if trying to carve the words "tiger shape" into his very soul.

[Proficiency +1]

[Proficiency +1]

Tiger Style Fist (Minor Success 233/1000)

……

child time.

Tiger Style Fist (Dacheng 116/2000)

[Proficiency +1]

[Proficiency +1]

……

The hour of Chou (1-3 AM).

Tiger Form Fist (Complete)

The panel in Su Yang's mind suddenly froze.

"It's done... a perfect night!"

A surge of profound understanding of the fist technique, like a sudden enlightenment, instantly permeated his limbs and bones. At the same time, a scorching torrent erupted from his dantian and Yongquan acupoint, surging like subterranean fire, flowing through all his meridians and cleansing his muscles and bones.

However, this transformative metamorphosis was firmly locked within his body by the perfected fist intent and physique—his exterior was as still as a rock, but his interior was undergoing its final tempering.

There was no roaring, no unusual noise.

A surge of heat rose from the depths of his bone marrow, spreading to every inch of his flesh and blood.

"Just how strong am I right now?"

Su Yang closed his eyes and looked inward, feeling as if he had been practicing this fist for twenty or thirty years. His muscles were bulging and restrained, with smooth lines that contained the power to collapse mountains; his bones were as solid as iron, and his tendons as strong as a bow.

He slowly opened his eyes.

Lying quietly on the couch, it resembles a mountain lord that has tucked its claws into its paw pads and suppressed its roar in its throat.

Seemingly harmless, yet a cold, predatory insight occasionally flashes in their eyes.

At a deeper level, there is an instinctive "hunting intuition"—before the enemy even shrugs, the direction of their force is already clear in one's mind; before the formation is even complete, three or more bloody paths to break the deadlock are already laid out in one's eyes.

This is no longer brute force.

This is the realization forged from the fusion of skill, physique, and combat wisdom in a state of perfection.

............

The next morning.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the Huang family's lower courtyard overnight.

"Have you heard? The guard selection is starting today, with registration at the archery range!"

"The competition is in two days! This is a golden opportunity to escape slavery and achieve great success!"

"Let's go! What if our ancestral graves emit auspicious smoke?"

"........."

As dawn broke, the bluestone path leading to the archery range in the west courtyard was already bustling with people.

The sturdy servants in coarse linen clothes, the young servants in slightly neater clothes, and even a few strong men who worked in the carriage yard, all rushed in the same direction with excitement and trepidation.

The air was thick with a sweltering heat, a mixture of grass clippings and ambition.

Outside the archery range, a small area has been simply fenced off with wooden railings.

Two people sat behind a long cedar table.

The man in the main seat, around forty years old, had a dark and stern face. He sat upright like a pine tree, and his eyes flashed with a sharp light as they opened and closed. He was none other than Yang Yunxing, the head instructor of the guards in the manor. Beside him, a young guard was engrossed in registering names.

The procession moved forward slowly.

For each person who stepped forward, Coach Yang's sharp gaze would linger on them for a moment, quickly sweeping them from head to toe—looking at whether their physique was well-proportioned, whether their steps were solid, and whether their eyes were naive or had a hint of fierceness.

This is purely an instinct developed from military training in his early years. Like an old craftsman weighing materials, he silently categorizes people into different classes in his mind, but remains expressionless on the surface.

The young guard didn't even look up, mechanically asking, "Name, affiliation, age."

Then take notes.

Whether the person who came was as strong as an ox or as thin as a stick, as long as they registered, they were all registered.

After all, the master's instruction was that "all male members of the household may register," and the word "may" implies equal opportunity. As for the real test on stage in the next two days, that's another matter.

"Look, is that Instructor Yang? Just sitting there makes you feel breathless..."

"Anyway, once you've registered, you have a chance, what if!"

In the crowd, Chen Le was squeezed to the front, talking animatedly with Zhao Si and others beside him, when he suddenly stopped talking.

As the crowd parted slightly, a familiar figure dressed in a light blue medicine boy's short jacket silently walked towards the end of the line.

"That bastard!"

"He actually applied to be a nurse? He's really overestimating himself!"

The smugness on Chen Le's face froze instantly, then turned into undisguised mockery and resentment.

New and old grudges surged into his heart—the loss of his position as a medicine boy and the public humiliation made him feel a surge of anger rushing to his head.

He gave Zhao Si a wink, parted the crowd, and swayed his shoulders to block Su Yang's path.

"Oh! Who do we have here?"

Chen Le raised his voice, deliberately making sure everyone around could hear: "Isn't this Su Yang, the 'busy guy' from our medicinal cuisine kitchen? What, tired of serving tea and water to Old Zheng and picking up medicine dregs? Want to see the world in this real place too?"

"I'm just being blunt, brother!"

He feigned concern as he looked Su Yang up and down: "With your skinny arms and legs, you might be able to weigh medicinal herbs at the pharmacy, but can you even lift the stone locks in this archery range? Don't get so scared on stage that you wet your pants and embarrass Old Zheng!"

Chen Le's words immediately drew a murmur of laughter from those around him.

Many eyes turned towards them, drawn by amusement at the spectacle.

Su Yang stopped and slightly raised his eyelids.

His gaze was indifferent, not even focusing on Chen Le's face, which was distorted with excitement. It simply swept over him, as if what was blocking his way was not a person, but a withered vine growing in the corner of a wall, or a pebble in the way.

However, in that fleeting moment when their eyes seemed to brush past each other.

The mocking smile on Chen Le's lips suddenly froze, and his eyes widened in shock!

A cold, heavy, and faintly bloody sense of oppression, like a tangible tide, crashed against his mind with that indifferent glance!

In that instant, it felt as if he wasn't being watched, but rather being casually swept by the tip of a tiger's tail as it lazily sat on a rock with its eyes half-closed.

But this "casual sweep" sent chills down his spine!

All sounds, light, and the laughing faces around him seemed veiled in mist, becoming blurry and distant. He felt as if he had been instantly thrown into a primeval jungle, surrounded by a deathly, dangerous darkness, and he himself had become a hare unintentionally targeted by a top predator.

"Well……"

Chen Le felt as if his throat was blocked by a wad of cold, wet cotton, and all the harsh words he was about to utter were stuck in his throat.

The color drained from his face in an instant, leaving him as pale as paper.

An extreme fear, stemming from biological instinct and the fear of beings at the top of the food chain, exploded from the tailbone, flashing through the spine like lightning throughout the body, as if all the strength in the limbs had been instantly drained.

"Thump!"

His expression turned horrified, his legs went weak, and he involuntarily and solidly fell to the ground, stirring up a small cloud of dust.