4: As the tiger's shadow first appeared, a wicked servant came to the door.

As twilight crept across the western window, Lin Yang's fist wind tore through the last sliver of setting sun in the corner of the courtyard.

His fingertips brushed over the yellowed cover of the "Tiger Shadow Fist" manual, and the dust of years drifted down in the light, as if a thunderclap sealed away by time was finally about to break its shackles.

"Tiger Shadow Fist, borrow power from the waist and stance to rupture the airflow, use the mind to guide the overlapping fist shadows..."

Amid the crisp sound of turning pages, he suddenly pressed his Dantian, and the surge of internal energy from last night was rushing through his Meridians, like a hidden Dragon trapped in the crevices of stone finally breaking through to a path of life.

The fallen leaves on the blue brick floor suddenly trembled in unison.

Lin Yang sank his waist and settled into a stance, his right fist chopping out diagonally following the trajectory of the manual.

At first, only the sound of breaking wind could be heard, but when the second fist followed closely, the two fist shadows actually overlapped in mid-air to create a faint golden afterimage, causing the leaves of the old locust tree by the courtyard wall to "swish" and surge in a wave of green.

A fishy sweetness rose in his throat—the stagnation of his bones and marrow remained, and every exertion felt like dragging thousand-jin iron shackles, but the meridian diagram of the fist manual in his mind became increasingly clear, as if it were innate.

"Hah!"

When the third fist was blasted out, three Tiger shadows suddenly took form!

The airflow condensed into a visible vortex in front of his fist, causing the bowl-thick wild jujube tree to shake violently, and the green fruit on the branches tumbled down to the ground with a pattering sound.

When Lin Yang withdrew his stance, the veins on his forehead were still throbbing, and sweat dripped along his jawline onto the bluestone, spreading into dark marks.

He looked at his slightly trembling fist, where the tingling sensation of tearing through the air still lingered, and his eyes welled with unbelievable ecstasy: "Three shadows... it actually worked!"

Hidden within this Trash body that had been mocked for sixteen years was such terrifying Comprehension Ability.

"Bang—!"

A loud noise exploded like a thunderclap, the courtyard gate was kicked open, and amidst the flying wood chips, Lin Dongping swaggered in with two attendants.

His moon-white brocade robe was particularly glaring in the dilapidated courtyard. His gaze swept over the green fruit scattered on the ground and the trembling tree shadows, and a cruel, mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth: "Yo, isn't this our young master Trash who is worse than a dog? You've been lying down for three days, and you can actually get up to play monkey tricks?"

Luo Hu and Sun Jilin stepped forward with sinister smiles. The former cracked his knuckles, and the latter licked his lips with a scarlet tongue, the steel sabers at their waists clattering with a harsh sound.

The twin girls following behind them were hiding timidly behind the door. Liu Qingluan clutched her sister's sleeve, and Liu Hongluan's almond-shaped eyes were wide open, looking at Lin Yang in the courtyard, who was still stained with blood, with a mixture of curiosity and fear—when he was thrown back three days ago, this youth was covered in injuries, but now he stood tall, with a beast seemingly lurking in the depths of his eyes.

Lin Yang's fists suddenly clenched, his knuckles turning white as frost. The image of Uncle Liu's wide-open eyes before he died was like a red-hot branding iron, searing fiercely into his heart.

"What?" Lin Dongping noticed his suddenly icy gaze, sneered, and spat on the ground, "Thinking of that dead dog? True, besides that worthless life, what else does a piece of Trash like you have to think about?"

Before the words had even faded, he gave Luo Hu a look.

The two evil servants immediately pounced like wolves and tigers toward the medicinal herbs drying in the courtyard. Those were the herbs Lin Yang had painstakingly gathered to regulate his Meridians; now, Luo Hu grabbed them and smashed them fiercely into the mud. Sun Jilin even kicked over the medicine furnace in the corner, and amidst the crisp sound of shattering pottery, the last bit of medicinal fragrance dissipated into the evening breeze.

"Stop!"

Lin Yang's eyes were splitting with rage, his three-shadow Fist Intent instantly ready to strike. But Lin Dongping had long anticipated his reaction; his Acquired Sixth Layer internal energy struck like a heavy hammer, landing squarely on Lin Yang's lower abdomen.

The moment the intense pain exploded, Lin Yang felt his internal organs churning. His body hit the earthen wall like a kite with a broken string, bricks and stones falling down and covering his face in blood.

"Trash is just Trash." Lin Dongping stepped on the back of his hand and ground it, the mud on his boot sole smearing into his bleeding wounds, "Did you really think learning a couple of cat-fist moves meant you weren't Trash anymore? Beat him! Beat him to death!"

Sun Jilin's leather boots kicked into Lin Yang's ribs without mercy. He let out a muffled groan, a mouthful of fresh blood spraying onto the bluestone and spreading into a hideous red in the puddle. Luo Hu grabbed his sweat-drenched hair and slammed his face hard against the ground, the rough stones slicing his cheek, and beads of blood dripped into the dust along his jaw.

"Hit back... why aren't you fighting back?" Lin Dongping squatted down and used the toe of his boot to lift Lin Yang's chin, "Last time, that old dog of yours took a few hits for you; let's see who can protect you this time?"

Lin Yang tried to crawl up like a madman, but every time he managed to prop himself up halfway, he was knocked down by even more vicious kicks and punches. The pain from his broken ribs was excruciating, but it was even more painful to remember the sight of Uncle Liu lying in a pool of blood—he had been just as powerless then, only able to watch as his only family member breathed his last. His blood mixed with the mud on the ground, dragging a winding trail across the blue bricks like a desperate snake.

"Hahaha! Look at his stupid look!" Lin Dongping laughed until he was leaning back and forth, then suddenly raised his foot and kicked Lin Yang in the chest, "Trash is just Trash; living is just a waste of food!"

Lin Yang's body twitched violently, and his vision went black in waves. He stared fixedly at Lin Dongping's twisted face, carving Luo Hu's grinning yellow teeth and Sun Jilin's kicking feet into his marrow—these people, just like the murderers who killed Uncle Liu back then, were all trampling his dignity underfoot.

"Enough." Lin Dongping's foot was tired from kicking, so he flicked his robe sleeves, "Why bother with a dead dog? It's just dirtying my feet."

Luo Hu and Sun Jilin followed with sinister smiles, and as they passed Lin Yang, they deliberately stepped heavily on his fingers. The twin sisters were already pale with fright; Liu Qingluan pulled her sister and turned to run, while Liu Hongluan looked back once, colliding with Lin Yang's eyes, which were burning with the karmic fire of Hell, and fled screaming and stumbling in terror.

The setting sun sank completely into the western mountains, and the twilight covered the small courtyard like a shroud.

Lin Yang lay on the cold ground, every breath carrying the stench of blood. He remembered Uncle Liu carrying him to the back mountain to gather herbs when he was young, remembered the old man stuffing the only steamed bun into his hands, and remembered when those withered hands stroked his head for the last time, saying, "Young Master must live well"...

"Ah—!"

The roar of grief and indignation shook the leaves off the old locust tree and startled the night birds nesting under the eaves. Lin Yang's fingernails dug deeply into his palms, and his blood dripped onto the bluestone, but it could not wash away those humiliating footprints.

"Power..." He murmured in a low voice, his voice as hoarse as if it had been ground by sandpaper, "I need power..."

Lin Dongping's arrogant face, Luo Hu's grinning yellow teeth, Sun Jilin's kicking foot, and that Lin Hongfeng who always hid behind the scenes... one face after another flashed before his eyes, eventually turning into poisoned blades, slicing away at his sanity.

He slowly propped up his body, his broken ribs emitting a teeth-gritting sound. The evening breeze carried the smell of blood as it swept across his cheeks. When Lin Yang stood straight, his eyes, which had originally retained the air of a youth, now held only ten thousand years of cold ice, and every inch of his muscles seemed to be roaring for revenge.

"Lin Dongping, Luo Hu, Sun Jilin..." He recited the names one word at a time, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying the stench of blood, "And Lin Hongfeng—"

"I, Lin Yang, swear to Heaven: today's humiliation, today's blood, I will return a hundredfold!"

The oath echoed in the empty courtyard, startling a few barks from dogs in the distance. Lin Yang looked at the last trace of ink-black in the sky and slowly clenched his fist, which held not only blood and hatred but also the Tiger Shadow Fist Intent that had just undergone Awakening and was enough to tear everything apart.