Tian Peng shifted his palms, keeping his left palm forward and hiding his right beneath his ribs. His fingers curled slightly like iron hooks. The opening stance of the Thunderbolt Hand was called "Thunder Hidden in the Clouds." It looked unremarkable, but it was actually storing power, ready to unleash a thunderous strike at any moment.
Chen Yuan did not move. Standing in the Santi stance, his leading hand formed an eagle catch while his rear hand guarded his heart. His entire body resembled an iron stake driven into the gray bricks.
The two faced off for three full breaths.
Tian Peng moved first. It wasn’t because he had lost his patience, but because he suddenly realized something. With Chen Yuan standing there in that posture, his entire body surprisingly revealed no openings to exploit. His leading hand sealed off his throat, his rear hand guarded his heart, his knees were slightly bent, and his center of gravity was perfectly stable. There was no point in continuing the standoff.
He stomped his right foot forward. The step was incredibly heavy, emitting a muffled THUD against the gray brick as his entire sole ground half an inch into the dirt. At the same time, his left palm flashed out like sudden thunder. His five fingers pressed together to form a Palm Blade, thrusting straight at Chen Yuan’s face.
"Thunderbolt Stab!"
This attack was not a slap or a chop; it was a stab. The Palm Blade tore through the air, letting out a sharp SWISH. The edge of his palm sliced through the air, and the fierce wind pierced toward Chen Yuan’s brow a split second before the strike itself.
Chen Yuan pushed off with his back foot. Instead of retreating, he advanced, though not in a straight line. Transitioning from the Santi stance into the Dragon Body-Folding maneuver, his spine twisted like a thick cable. His upper body slanted to evade the sharp edge of the palm thrust, while his right hand simultaneously flipped out from his waist. His Chopping Fist moved in a vertical circle, striking from top to bottom like an axe splitting wood as the heel of his palm chopped down viciously toward Tian Peng’s wrist.
CRACK!
The heel of his palm slammed into the wrist joint, producing a crisp, explosive sound. Tian Peng felt a sudden numbness in his wrist. The power in his entire left arm was severed into two by the chop. The force in the front half of his Palm Blade was completely dissipated, while the vital energy in the back half of his forearm was jolted backward.
His heart skipped a beat, but his right palm had already flipped out from beneath his ribs. The fingers curled into a fist with the fist eye facing upward as he blasted a punch toward Chen Yuan’s chest. This punch was called the "Thunder Hammer." It was a variation of the Thunderbolt Hand that transitioned from palm to fist. It carried immense weight and power, its wind howling as it struck.
Chen Yuan did not retract his chopping right hand; instead, his left hand moved. His left hand had been guarding his heart the entire time. At this moment, it suddenly flipped upward—Drilling Fist. With the center of his fist facing upward, his knuckles spiraled. He didn’t block or parry; he drilled straight into the face of Tian Peng’s incoming fist.
Fist against fist.
THUD!
The two fists collided, letting out an extremely muffled and heavy impact sound, like two cowhide drums being struck at the same time. Tian Peng’s fist power was the straightforward Manifest Force, like an iron hammer smashing a door. Chen Yuan’s fist power was a spiraling drilling force, like a steel rod piercing a hole.
The superiority of the two forces was decided the instant their fists clashed. The straightforward force was penetrated by the spiraling force. Tian Peng’s fist was forcefully deflected, causing his center of gravity to falter as his upper body involuntarily leaned back half an inch.
Half an inch was enough.
Chen Yuan’s right foot had already stepped between Tian Peng’s feet, stepping directly into the center gate. He didn’t unleash a Beng Fist. Instead, he bent his right elbow and swept his entire forearm horizontally like an iron rod. This was precisely the "Horizontal Lean" from the Body-Wrapping Cross Fist. The outer edge of his forearm slammed squarely into the center of Tian Peng’s chest. The emitted force was extremely short and explosive, retracting the moment it made contact, like the snap of a bowstring.
BANG!
The clothes on Tian Peng’s chest billowed from the shockwave of the lean. He stumbled backward—STOMP, STOMP, STOMP—taking four consecutive steps before stabilizing his posture. He looked down to see a faint arm-shaped imprint on his lapel. The skin beneath it burned slightly.
At the edge of the Martial Arts Arena, several Nursing Homes had already stopped what they were doing and gathered around.
"This newcomer actually has some skills. Tian Peng didn’t gain the upper hand in either of the two exchanges."
"It’s not just about not gaining the upper hand. Did you see that last move? Fist against fist, he forcefully deflected Tian Peng’s Thunder Hammer head-on."
"A Grade-D Superior Root Bone? He doesn’t look like it."
Tian Peng took a deep breath. The stifling sensation in his chest hadn’t entirely dissipated. He knew he had underestimated his opponent. Fan had said that this Chen Yuan had broken through the threshold in two and a half months, so he had subconsciously assumed it was a forced breakthrough resulting in an unstable foundation. After all, how stable could a two-and-a-half-month foundation be?
But from those two head-on clashes just now, the opponent’s fist stance was as steady as a veteran who had practiced stance training for two years. How did that look like someone who had just broken through?
He put away his underestimation and crossed his palms once again, his ten knuckle joints cracking audibly. Manifest Force was channeled.
CRACKLE—
The muscles and bones in Tian Peng’s arms rang in unison. From his shoulders down to his fingertips, a continuous string of explosive pops sounded like popping beans. This wasn’t an ordinary channeling of Manifest Force; it was the "Thunderous Sound Infusing the Arm," a unique technique of the Thunderbolt Hand. It pushed the Manifest Force to its absolute limits, driving the power through every single knuckle.
His movements suddenly became incredibly fast. Pushing off with his right foot, he closed in on Chen Yuan like a clinging shadow. His left palm slapped toward the face, and his right palm threaded toward the ribs. Both palms struck out in unison, each strike faster and heavier than the last—the Thunderbolt Twelve Palms, a continuous, overlapping assault!
SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!
Palm shadows fluttered wildly as fierce winds shot out in all directions. Tian Peng’s set of Thunderbolt Twelve Palms was the signature technique of the Benlei Martial Arts Hall. The twelve palms linked continuously, with each strike faster and heavier than the previous one. By the time he unleashed the sixth palm, the wind from the strikes already carried the faint sound of rolling, muffled thunder.
Chen Yuan’s response changed. He had met the first two moves head-on, but now that Tian Peng’s palm techniques were fully unleashed, he no longer blocked them forcefully. His footwork came alive. The Chicken Leg Step of the Santi stance inherently emphasized "lifting the feet low and rooting them upon landing." At this moment, he shrank his stride to the absolute minimum, practically gliding across the ground.
When Tian Peng’s palm chopped over, he shifted three inches to the left. When Tian Peng’s palm stabbed over, he yielded two inches to the right. Every single step landed perfectly on the transitional points of Tian Peng’s palm strikes—no more, no less—allowing the edges of the palms to brush harmlessly past his clothes.
His positioning was incredibly slick.
The several Nursing Homes on the sidelines exchanged bewildered glances. They had sparred with Tian Peng before. Once the Thunderbolt Twelve Palms were fully unleashed, very few people could evade them entirely just by relying on footwork. The usual method was to endure a few hits head-on while looking for a chance to counterattack. However, this Chen Yuan wasn’t following the conventional path at all. He wasn’t moving randomly. Every step made it seem as though he knew exactly where Tian Peng’s next palm was going to strike ahead of time.
"Anticipation," an older Nursing Home murmured. "He’s reading Tian Peng’s shoulders."
The several Nursing Homes looked closely, and sure enough—right before Tian Peng unleashed a palm strike, his shoulders would slightly dip first. This shoulder dip was so fast it was almost imperceptible, but Chen Yuan’s body always began to move the very instant Tian Peng’s shoulders dropped, keeping him a hair faster than the wind of the strikes.
Tian Peng had noticed it too. He grew increasingly frustrated as he fought—he had unleashed eight of the twelve palms, yet he hadn’t even touched the corner of Chen Yuan’s clothes. What infuriated him even more was that Chen Yuan actually managed to find time to counterattack while evading.
Just as his ninth palm was halfway extended, Chen Yuan suddenly stopped dodging. Stomping his right foot, his left hand swung up from the flank—Cannon Fist. The Cannon Fist belonged to the fire element, resembling a cannonball blasting out of its barrel.
Chen Yuan’s punch didn’t aim for Tian Peng’s face, nor did it aim for his chest. Instead, it targeted the elbow joint of the arm executing Tian Peng’s ninth palm strike. The knuckles smashed squarely an inch above the tip of the elbow, perfectly severing the power path of the Thunderbolt Palm.
THUMP!
Tian Peng’s ninth palm only made it halfway before the power in his entire arm was cut off, causing it to fall limply to his side. His face flushed beet red. He had only executed nine of the twelve palms before the remaining three were interrupted by the counterattack.
The Thunderbolt Hand emphasized "completing everything in one breath." The greatest advantage of this Continuous Palm Technique was that, once unleashed, it was as relentless as rolling thunder. However, its greatest flaw was that the rhythm would completely fall apart the moment it was interrupted. Right now, he was a total mess. He didn’t know whether he should launch the tenth palm, he couldn’t connect the power rhythm for the eleventh palm, and the twelfth palm was completely out of the question.
What made it even more humiliating was that all of this had happened right under the noses of his colleagues. When he passed his assessment half a month ago, these Nursing Homes had all sparred with him, and they all knew that his Thunderbolt Twelve Palms were not to be trifled with. But now, his twelve palms hadn’t even grazed the opponent’s clothes; instead, his elbow’s power generation had been severed by a single punch.
A newcomer who had just crossed the threshold, with a Grade-D Superior Root Bone, in two and a half months—what gave him the right?
Tian Peng gritted his teeth, a few bloodshot veins surfacing in the whites of his eyes. He suddenly dropped the stance for the Thunderbolt Twelve Palms. Pressing both palms downward, his entire aura shifted abruptly.
He was about to get serious.
The Thunderbolt Hand didn’t just consist of the Thunderbolt Twelve Palms; it also had a set of moves that weren’t used lightly, known as the "Nine Thunder Strikes." This was the true inheritance of the Benlei Martial Arts Hall—fierce, explosive, and fatal with every move. It was generally never used during assessments or sparring, because once unleashed, it was hard to hold back, easily leading to lethal accidents.
But right now, he couldn’t care less.
He stomped his right foot, causing a gray brick to crack with a sharp snap as a thin fissure spread across it. He launched himself forward like a booming thunderbolt. Winding up his right arm, his fingers clenched into a fist with veins bulging on the back of his hand. He smashed it down viciously toward the top of Chen Yuan’s head. This punch was called "Thunder Cleaves the Five Mountains." It was the opening move of the Nine Thunder Strikes, carrying immense weight and power, its howling wind genuinely feeling like a suffocating, muffled thunderclap pressing down from above.
"That’s enough. It’s just a spar. Know when to stop."
A deep voice detonated over the Martial Arts Arena like a clap of thunder. Tian Peng’s fist stopped dead in midair, less than a foot from the top of Chen Yuan’s head. The residual force of the fist’s wind hadn’t faded, blowing Chen Yuan’s bangs until they fluttered wildly.
Fan Dajiang walked over from the sidelines. His pace wasn’t fast, yet every step seemed to land squarely on the rhythm of Tian Peng’s heartbeat.
"The Nine Thunder Strikes are meant for killing, not for testing newcomers." Fan Dajiang came to a halt and looked at Tian Peng with a flat gaze. "Retract your fist."
Tian Peng’s chest heaved violently, the bloodshot veins in his eyes yet to recede. He shot a glance at Chen Yuan. The latter maintained his unhurried demeanor, not even his breathing disturbed. Tian Peng gritted his teeth, retracted his fist, and took two steps back. He lowered his head and cupped his fists. "I overstepped. Please punish me, Mr. Fan."
Fan Dajiang didn’t respond to him, instead turning to Chen Yuan.
"Your stance foundation is very solid. Standing in the Santi stance, you didn’t move an inch. Such composure is rare among impetuous youngsters."
Chen Yuan smiled faintly. "You flatter me. If Brother Tian had gotten serious, I definitely wouldn’t have been a match for him."
One couldn’t show mercy during a spar, but one could certainly show mercy with their words afterward. He had no desire to offend people right after arriving.
Sure enough, the moment he said that, Tian Peng’s expression softened considerably, and he picked up the conversation. "Brother Chen possesses extraordinary skills. If I didn’t bring out my signature techniques, I really wouldn’t have been able to do anything against you."
His impression of Chen Yuan improved quite a bit. When navigating the world, respect was always mutual.
Fan Dajiang’s evaluation of Chen Yuan rose even further. His skills were solid, and he knew how to handle interpersonal relations. He was more than capable enough to be a Nursing Home. He smiled faintly. "Chen Yuan, you passed. You will begin your shifts tomorrow. Your monthly salary will be seven taels. Your living quarters and specific duties will be arranged shortly."
Chen Yuan retracted his fists and cupped them together. "Thank you, Tributor Fan."
He then followed Fan Dajiang out of the Martial Arts Arena.
The night breeze blew through the corridors, carrying the faint fragrance of unknown flowers from the gardens. The eyes of the several Nursing Homes followed his departing figure, containing curiosity, admiration, and a hint of scrutiny. His steps were steady, and his expression was as calm as ever.
Fan Dajiang entered the storehouse, retrieved a set of Nursing Home clothes and a waist token, and handed them to Chen Yuan. He instructed, "When you arrive tomorrow, change into these clothes and bring your token. For your first time, you’ll be on the morning shift, which is from 7:00 AM to 1:00 PM. Remember to gather in the courtyard before 7:00 AM to receive your specific tasks."
Chen Yuan accepted them. Feeling the fabric, he found that it was actually of better quality than what he was currently wearing. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly at the sheer wealth of these filthy rich households. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Mr. Fan, I’ve got it."
Fan Dajiang nodded. "The Li Family has quite a few Tributors. I’m in charge of the estate’s security, so the workload isn’t too heavy. We run on a three-shift rotation.
"During your free time, you can practice martial arts in the Martial Arts Arena. Sparring with the other Nursing Homes isn’t a bad idea either.
"Additionally, you get four days off a month, and the monthly salary is uniformly distributed at the end of each month. Your pay for this month will be prorated based on the actual number of days you work. Is that acceptable?"
"No problem." Chen Yuan naturally had no objections.
This job was already extremely generous. With eight-hour workdays, based on the behavior of that group in the Martial Arts Arena, he could probably slack off for at least four hours. Normally, he’d just patrol around the courtyards, and generally speaking, no petty thieves would dare cause trouble for the Li Family. If something truly went wrong, his first priority would be to run away.
After leaving the Li Family’s estate, Chen Yuan hurriedly rushed back to the Huo Courtyard.
Running all over the place and doing so much, he still hadn’t eaten!