3: Chapter 3 Second Life, First Glimpse into Martial Arts (Part Two)

Steward Lin Zhen clutched Lin Shi's wrist, his steps urgent and heavy.

As he stepped across the packed earth of the Martial Arts Arena, each muffled thud was filled with an uncontrollable anxiety.

Disciples they knew greeted them along the way, but he only nodded quickly, his face ashen.

Beneath the facade of dignity he had maintained for half a lifetime, unwillingness and disappointment almost overflowed.

Lin Shi followed silently, not saying a word.

He had experienced his father's current state of mind in his previous life.

It was the powerlessness of tying all one's future to one's children, only to watch hope vanish before one's eyes.

It was more tormenting than a lifetime of one's own mediocrity.

The two walked directly to the Instruction Courtyard on the west side of the Martial Arts Arena.

Just inside the courtyard gate, they saw a tall, thin old man standing with his hands behind his back.

He held a shiny, dark wooden ruler in his hand, watching two disciples practice horse stance.

The old man's face was stern, his jawline carved like by a knife and axe.

Even though age had slightly bent his back, his posture remained like an iron spear nailed into the ground, unyielding to wind and rain.

He was none other than the Chief Instructor of the Houshan Martial Arts Hall in Hansha Town, Instructor Wang Zhong, a late Stone Skin Realm cultivator.

“Instructor Wang.”

Steward Lin Zhen stopped, released Lin Shi's hand, and bowed deeply to the old man.

His posture was even more respectful than when facing the Hall Master, and his tone held a subtle plea.

Instructor Wang Zhong turned his head.

His gaze, like an eagle's, swept over the father and son.

His eyes lingered briefly on Steward Lin Zhen's pale face, and his brows furrowed slightly: “The Hall Master's side, is there a result?”

“...Yes.”

Steward Lin Zhen's throat moved, his voice slightly hoarse, forcing a smile uglier than a cry.

“Inferior Root Bone. In this life... without great fortune, he will at most stop at the Ox-Skin Realm.”

“Brother Wang, I know you are always strict in accepting disciples, valuing root bone and foundation above all else, but this child, he...”

The words reached his lips, then he swallowed them back.

He merely gently guided Lin Shi forward: “Shi'er, kowtow to Instructor Wang.”

Lin Shi didn't hesitate for a moment.

He knelt, firmly knocking his head three times on the bluestone ground.

“Thud, thud, thud.”

Three clear, crisp sounds, without any ambiguity.

When he looked up again, his eyes were clear, looking directly at Instructor Wang Zhong.

In those eyes, there was none of the timidity or evasion a child his age should have.

No resentment or unwillingness at a future cut short.

And certainly no servility of begging for scraps.

Only a calmness and certainty completely unsuited for his ten years of age.

As if he was completing a lifelong task that required his utmost effort.

“Disciple Lin Shi, humbly requests Instructor Wang to accept him.”

His voice was steady, his words clear, without a hint of tremor.

Instructor Wang Zhong didn't tell him to get up, nor did he respond.

Only his sharp eyes, which had seen through the hearts of countless children, were fixed on Lin Shi's face.

He scrutinized him for a long time.

He had taught martial arts his entire life and had seen many reactions after discovering an Inferior Root Bone.

Some would cry and break down, others would complain to the heavens, or rely on their family background to cause trouble and pester.

But he had never seen a ten-year-old child.

Who, when almost condemned to death on the path of martial arts, could still kneel here so calmly.

With clear eyes, proper demeanor, neither humble nor arrogant.

In this chaotic world, talent was a ladder to the heavens.

But this calm and steady temperament was the ballast that allowed one to go far through storms.

After a while, Instructor Wang Zhong finally spoke.

His voice was still stern, but with a little less of the detached formality.

“Get up. When I accept disciples, I prioritize root bone potential.”

“You are not qualified.”

Steward Lin Zhen's face turned even grayer.

Lin Shi remained silent, still calm.

“However,” Instructor Wang Zhong's tone shifted, “your calm temperament is quite rare in this world.”

“Out of consideration for my many years of working with your father, I will accept you as a Named Disciple.”

A Named Disciple had the title but no core inheritance.

They could receive guidance and avoid detours.

But according to the martial arts hall's rules, monthly stipends, chores, and future prospects all had to be earned by oneself.

This was limited acceptance, an opportunity earned through sentiment and temperament, not a true transmission of legacy.

“Disciple understands! Thank you, Master!”

Lin Shi kowtowed again, his voice steady.

He understood the distinction.

But this was already much better than he had expected.

Only then did he get up and stand quietly beside his father.

Steward Lin Zhen's heart, which had been suspended all day, finally dropped heavily.

He let out a long sigh, his eyes instantly reddening.

He bowed repeatedly to Instructor Wang Zhong, his voice slightly choked: “Brother Wang, I cannot thank you enough! This child, I... I entrust him to you!”

“Since he has entered my door, I will naturally do my best.”

Instructor Wang Zhong waved his hand and turned to enter the room.

Soon, he came out with a thin, thread-bound booklet.

Its cover was yellowed and frayed, and he handed it to Lin Shi.

The cover of the booklet was made of rough earth paper.

On it were three strong, bony ink characters—

“This is the foundation of my Houshan Fist.”

“A tall building starts from the ground; everything must begin with this stance cultivation.”

Instructor Wang Zhong's tone was solemn.

“According to the martial arts hall's rules, new disciples pay ten taels of silver to learn basic skills for a month and receive five bowls of 'Qi-Nourishing Soup'.”

“I'll make an exception; the silver is waived, but the soup will still be given.”

“But your future prospects depend on your own fortune.”

Instructor Wang Zhong's gaze was solemn as it fell on Lin Shi, his words heavy as a thousand jun.

“Do not aim too high, and never practice blindly in private.”

“I'm giving you the diagram today; be sure to study it carefully when you go back.”

“Every stance diagram, every line of the mental cultivation method, must be firmly etched into your mind, memorized thoroughly, so you can recall it perfectly even with your eyes closed.”

“Come tomorrow morning; I will test you.”

“Without mastering stance cultivation, everything else is empty.”

“Memorizing and reciting it perfectly is your only task right now.”

“Disciple understands.”

Lin Shi took the booklet with both hands.

It felt light, yet heavy as a thousand jin.

His fingertips touched the rough paper, and a strange warm current suddenly surged from his palm into his heart.

The grand gate of martial arts, which he had sought his entire previous life but never touched.

In this life, it officially opened with these thin pages.

Steward Lin Zhen exchanged a few more pleasantries with Instructor Wang Zhong.

They agreed that Lin Shi would be sent over at the End of Yin Shi tomorrow.

Only then did he bid farewell with Lin Shi and leave.

(PS: The End of Yin Shi is after 4 AM, truly getting up earlier than a chicken, as roosters don't crow until 6 AM.)

As they walked out of the Instruction Courtyard, the setting sun was sinking into the western mountains.

It cast long shadows of the father and son on the ground.

Steward Lin Zhen let out a long sigh.

His shoulders, which had been tense all day, finally sagged a little.

His rough hand rubbed Lin Shi's head, his voice full of weariness and apology: “Shi'er, your father is incompetent; I couldn't give you a good root bone...”

“Father.”

Lin Shi looked up, his eyes reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun, clear and resolute.

“To have the opportunity to practice martial arts and even become Instructor Wang's disciple, your son is already very content.”

Steward Lin Zhen looked at his son's calm eyes, and his throat choked up again.

In the end, he just heavily patted his still-slight shoulders, saying no more.

As they neared home, they saw his mother, Wang Caixia, pacing anxiously at the courtyard gate.

Seeing them return, she immediately hurried forward to greet them.

She first quickly glanced at Steward Lin Zhen's face, and her heart immediately sank.

After listening to Steward Lin Zhen quietly recount the process of testing his root bone and becoming a disciple, her eyes suddenly reddened.

But she immediately turned her head, blinked hard, and forced the moisture back.

When she turned back, her face had a warm, gentle smile.

She took Lin Shi's hand and gently held it: “Since you've become Instructor Wang's disciple, then train well.”

“We don't care about those fancy things; as long as Shi'er is safe and sound, that's enough.”

“Didn't your father also live a stable life in the Ox-Skin Realm?”

Dinner was specially stewed tender Exotic Beast Meat.

It was glistening red, the aroma of meat mixed with the savory taste of sauce, wafting directly into their noses.

Paired with a bowl full of golden, fragrant millet rice, this was a hearty dish that even ordinary families in town might not afford to prepare for the New Year.

As a steward of the martial arts hall, Steward Lin Zhen was not comparable to the wealthy families in town.

But compared to the lower-class families who risked their lives for a bite to eat, their life was already quite affluent and stable.

The couple, by unspoken agreement, hardly touched the plate of meat.

They only used their chopsticks, piece after piece, to put the tender, sauce-soaked meat into Lin Shi's bowl.

Piling it up high.

“Eat more.”

Wang Caixia said gently, her eyes full of concern.

“You'll start training tomorrow, and your qi and blood consumption will be high, so eat more to have strength.”

Lin Shi lowered his head and ate his rice.

The meat was stewed tender and flavorful, wrapped in an undeniable warmth of family affection.

This was far from any delicacy.

Yet, it was the most humble support this not-so-wealthy but stable home could offer him.

In his previous life, where he struggled to survive, he had never experienced such solid warmth.

After dinner, Lin Shi sat under the oil lamp.

He gently opened the Houshan Stance manual.

The booklet was clearly old, its pages yellowed and brittle, with slightly curled edges.

The diagrams inside were hand-drawn with ink, the lines simple, even a bit clumsy.

Yet, they clearly depicted the various angles of the stance and the subtle shifts in the center of gravity.

The accompanying verbal formulas were concise.

Every word and phrase was solid, practical body-tempering knowledge, without a single falsehood.

Lin Shi flipped through page by page, reading with extreme focus.

Four points of comprehension were not enough for him to grasp its profound mysteries at a glance.

But after two lives of ups and downs, he had already developed sufficient patience and composure.

Every posture, every verbal formula, was repeatedly dissected and verified in his mind.

Until it was completely etched into his memory.

Outside the window, the cool moonlight quietly streamed into the room.

It caressed his focused profile and his perfectly straight back.

He was deeply immersed in his reading.

Until Wang Caixia's hushed voice came from outside the door: “Shi'er, get some rest early. The oil lamp is hard on your eyes, and you have to get up early to train tomorrow.”

Lin Shi looked up from the pages and replied to the door: “Understood, Mother, I'm going to sleep now.”

He closed the booklet but didn't immediately blow out the oil lamp.

He merely gently caressed the three strong, bony characters on the cover with his fingertips.