1: Chapter 1 I Want to Practice Martial Arts

Lin Tian opened his eyes, his vision blurred for a long while before gradually clearing.

Wooden beams, mud walls, coarse cloth curtains.

The air held a scent mixed with herbs and damp earth.

He propped himself up, but a wave of dizziness struck, almost causing him to fall back down.

Memories flooded in like a tide—not his own, but another person's.

Lin Family Village, seventeen years old. Three days ago, during a skirmish with the neighboring Wang Family Village over water rights, he was struck on the back of the head with a club and had been unconscious ever since.

His father, Lin Dashan, and his mother, Madam Zhao, were simple farmers.

There was also a younger sister named Lin Xiaohe.

And, the truth of this world.

This was not any ancient dynasty he knew of.

Although there was farming, villages, and clans, one thing stood above the ordinary order—the Dao of Martial Arts.

Martial Artists refined their Qi and blood, strengthened their tendons and bones, could lift heavy tripods, and were as swift as leopards.

The powerful were said to possess the strength of ten thousand catties, capable of splitting stones and breaking monuments with ease.

In this world, martial arts were supreme, and the law of the jungle was the iron rule.

Lin Tian sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his hands. The palms were broad, the knuckles thick, and they were calloused—the hands of someone who had labored for years.

But his Qi and blood were weak, his muscles loose; he was not cut out for martial arts—at least, the previous "Lin Tian" wasn't.

"Tian'er, you're awake?"

The door curtain was lifted, and a woman in her forties walked in quickly, her eyes red, holding a pottery bowl in her hand.

Following her was a dark-skinned, sturdy man with a weathered face; they were the parents of this body.

"Mother, Father." Lin Tian spoke, his voice somewhat dry.

Madam Zhao handed him the bowl containing a brown medicinal soup: "Drink it quickly. The physician said that once you woke up, you had to drink it."

Lin Tian took it and drank it in one gulp. It was bitter, astringent, and carried an earthy, fishy smell.

Lin Dashan sat on the wooden stool by the bed, remained silent for a while, and then said: "It's good that you're awake. Those bastards from Wang Family Village, they struck too hard. The Village Head said this grudge is remembered, and sooner or later, we will get it back."

Lin Tian put down the bowl and looked at his father: "Father, I want to Cultivate."

Lin Dashan was stunned, then sighed: "Tian'er, you... have no talent for the Dao of Martial Arts."

Fragments surfaced in his memory:

At thirteen, Lin Tian had excitedly joined the village's Martial Arts Team, but after learning a set of basic fist techniques for three months, he couldn't even remember all the Moves.

His strength grew slowly, and he struggled even to lift a fifty-catty stone lock. The bearded captain had shaken his head at the time: "Go back. Farming is also a path."

Later, he really did go back, content to farm and occasionally help the village with odd jobs.

Until this skirmish, when he was knocked down by a single blow.

"I still want to try." Lin Tian's voice was calm, but very firm.

Lin Dashan looked at his son and saw that his eyes were different from before—less timid, and filled with something indescribable.

After a long while, he nodded: "Fine. Once you have recovered, I will speak to the bearded one."

After resting for three days, Lin Tian felt his body had mostly recovered.

On the fourth day, just as dawn was breaking, he went out and headed toward the threshing floor at the east end of the village.

That was where the Martial Arts Team usually trained.

The threshing floor was about two mu in size, with a firmly tamped ground. At this moment, more than twenty people were already morning training, with shouts and the sound of fists and kicks breaking through the wind mixing together.

Rows of stone locks were lined up along the side, ranging from twenty to two hundred catties.

In the center of the field, a middle-aged man with a full beard stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze scanning the field.

His name was Village Head Lin Tieshan, one of the three First-Rank Martial Artists in the village and also the captain of the Martial Arts Team.

He stood nearly eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, standing there like an iron tower.

Lin Tian walked over, cupped his fists, and saluted: "Uncle Tieshan."

Village Head Lin Tieshan turned to look at him, raising his thick eyebrows: "Lin Dashan's kid? Is your body better?"

"It is better."

"Still want to Cultivate?"

"Yes."

Village Head Lin Tieshan stared at him for a few moments, then suddenly shouted into the crowd: "Lin Jing!"

A woman stepped out in response.

She was in her early twenties, tall, wearing grey cloth short-style clothes, her long hair simply tied behind her head.

Her face was not stunning, but her features were delicate, and she had an air of competence and decisiveness.

She was one of the few female Martial Artists in the village; although she was only a Quasi-Martial Artist, her swordsmanship was highly praised by Village Head Lin Tieshan.

"You take him under your wing." Village Head Lin Tieshan pointed at Lin Tian, "Start with the basics."

Lin Jing nodded, expressionless, and simply said to Lin Tian: "Follow me."

The two walked to a corner of the threshing floor, which was relatively quieter. Lin Jing stood still, turned around, and looked at Lin Tian: "I will teach you the most basic fist technique, the Great Strength Fist.

This is the foundation for tempering Qi and blood and honing tendons and bones. Every Martial Artist in the village started with this set of techniques."

After saying this, she assumed a stance and began to demonstrate slowly.

The Great Strength Fist consisted of twenty-four Moves, simple and direct: punching, chopping with the palm, elbow strikes, kicking... Every Move emphasized the method of exerting force and the circulation of Qi and blood.

Lin Jing practiced very slowly, deliberately letting Lin Tian see the details of every movement clearly.

Once she finished, she began to explain in detail: "The first Move, Bow Stance Punch. Step the left leg forward into a bow stance, and at the same time, thrust the right fist out from the waist with a twisting motion.

Pay attention, the force starts from the feet, passes through the waist and hips, transfers to the shoulders and arms, and finally concentrates at the fist. Qi and blood must circulate with the movement, and your intent must be focused on the fist surface..."

Lin Tian listened intently, while silently memorizing it in his mind.

An hour later, Lin Jing finished explaining the last few Moves and stood still: "These are the keys to the Great Strength Fist.

For the next few months, you will focus solely on practicing this set of techniques.

When you can lift a hundred-catty stone lock and perform the fist techniques completely and fluently, you will have entered the door."

Lin Tian cupped his fists: "Many thanks, Sister Jing."

Lin Jing returned to the field to continue her own Cultivation. Lin Tian remained in the corner and began to attempt the practice.

He recalled Lin Jing's movements, assumed a bow stance, and threw a punch.

His movements were stiff, his footing unsteady. By the third Move, he forgot the following connection and stood there stunned.

He started over, but got stuck again at the seventh Move. How high should his arm be raised? How should his waist turn?

A few snickers came from afar.

"Look at that kid, he can't even hold a proper stance."

"He was like this three years ago, and he's still like this now. What a blockhead."

"Martial arts rely on talent. If you don't have the aptitude, no matter how much you struggle, it's all a waste of effort."

The speakers were a few young members, all Quasi-Martial Artists. Although they hadn't reached any rank, their strength was all over a hundred catties.

One of them, named Lin Hu, could lift a one-hundred-and-fifty-catty stone lock last year and was a promising talent favored by the bearded captain.

Lin Tian turned a deaf ear and continued practicing.

Another round. This time, by the twelfth Move, his movements deformed, his center of gravity became unstable, and he almost fell.

Sweat had already soaked his back.

This body was indeed clumsy; muscle memory was almost zero. Every movement required him to desperately recall it in his brain before his body could barely execute it.

But he didn't stop.

The third round, the fourth round... Every time, he could only perform a few Moves before interrupting.

Either he forgot the follow-up, or his force exertion was wrong.

The sun gradually rose, and the Martial Arts Team's morning training neared its end. Most people had already left, leaving only a few still practicing.

Lin Hu's group walked over, and as they passed Lin Tian, one of them deliberately raised his voice:

"What's the use of hard work? In this world, talent is fundamental. If hard work alone could make you a Martial Artist, then the streets would be full of experts!"

Lin Tian still ignored them and continued his clumsy practice.

Lin Jing watched from not far away, shaking her head slightly.

She walked up to Lin Tian: "In the Dao of Martial Arts, talent is certainly important, but perseverance is also indispensable. Although your talent is a bit lacking, diligence can make up for it. Don't be discouraged."

"I know, Sister Jing." Lin Tian answered, panting, as sweat dripped down his chin.

He took a deep breath and assumed the stance again.

This time, he deliberately slowed down even more. For every Move, he silently recited the essentials in his mind and then tried his best to imitate them. Bow Stance Punch, Horse Stance Palm Chop, Turning Elbow Strike...

His movements were still awkward, but this time, he didn't stop halfway.

The twentieth Move, the twenty-first Move... When the last Move, "Return to Origin," was completed, Lin Tian was soaked to the bone, and his arms were so sore and weak that he could barely lift them.

But he had finished it.

A complete round of the Great Strength Fist.

Just at the moment he finished, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out deep in his mind:

[Proficiency System activated]

[Host has completed martial arts demonstration, System activated]

[Current Martial Art: Great Strength Fist (Beginner)]

[Proficiency: 1/100]

[Hint: Proficiency can be accumulated through repeated practice. Once proficiency is full, the martial art will upgrade, and the host's strength will improve accordingly]

Lin Tian stood in place, stunned.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled onto the threshing floor, stretching his shadow long.

In the distance, Village Head Lin Tieshan was directing a few members to tidy up the stone lock equipment. Lin Jing had already left, and only a few people remained on the side of the field.

He looked down at his hands, then looked up at the setting sun.

This world seemed to have become different.