"Silk-Wrapping Fist."
"Great Accomplishment Fist."
"Six Harmony Fist."
"Five Ancestors' Crane Sun Fist."
…
Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao walked for four straight days.
They were strangers in the Mountain-Sea Realm, couldn't understand the language, couldn't speak it either. With no way to communicate or ask for directions, they simply picked a direction and followed one road to the end.
On the first day, they left the marshes.
On the second day, they followed a river downstream, passing seven or eight tribal settlements. At each one, they observed from the shadows. In every tribe, people were practicing martial arts—young boys, youths, middle-aged men, even elderly folks and children.
Yan Chuang quietly watched and recognized the various fist techniques they used—
"Wu Family Fist."
"Fu Family Fist."
"Gao Family Fist."
"Arhat Eighteen Hands."
…
In just a handful of tribes, they had already seen nearly the full range of the eighteen widely taught fist styles of the Guangling Academy.
From beginner to intermediate level, and even occasionally, styles comparable to the advanced "Gong-Style Tiger-Taming Fist" or the "Ten Form Fist" of the Cheng Family.
Clearly—
These tribes had a widespread martial tradition.
"Most likely the Guangling Academy is behind this spread."
Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao increasingly leaned toward this conclusion.
So, they kept walking—determined to leave the influence of the Guangling Academy behind.
One more day, and another, and then another.
By the fourth day, they seemed to have exited a certain region. They didn't see a single tribe all day—no signs of habitation among the mountains and rivers.
Following the river.
Crossing mountains.
Fifth day.
Sixth day.
By sunset on the sixth day, when the master and disciple duo were on the verge of questioning their lives—
Finally—
At the base of a mountain.
In a valley.
Clusters of wooden and bamboo huts emerged from the earth.
From a distance—
"This is the place!"
Both Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao had a hunch—this tribe was likely beyond the reach of the Guangling Academy.
With that in mind, their pace quickened.
They descended the mountain, heading straight for the village.
Before they even entered, they saw a boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old, tiger-headed and strong, dressed only in a fur loincloth, practicing martial arts beside a small creek under the setting sun.
"Young eagle takes flight."
"Mighty eagle spreads its wings."
"Claw, grab, pinch, lock—twist and turn."
"This looks like a form of Eagle Claw Kung Fu, but this structure… it's not among the hundred styles taught in Guangling Prefecture!"
Yan Chuang stared intently. As a martial arts expert from Guangling, he could instantly tell—the boy was practicing Eagle Claw, both in form and spirit, but it was rougher, more primal. Clearly, it wasn't from the refined schools of Guangling. Instead, it resembled the tribal imitation-style fist arts described by Xun Guilan in the Geographic Records of Mountain and Sea.
"Imitation-style fist arts!"
Yan Chuang looked at the boy with excitement and turned to Cheng Fengxiao, pointing at the distant tribe: "Master, I think we're out of Guangling territory. Let's stay here for a while."
Then he pointed to the boy at the creek: "And we'll start with this kid!"
…
"Eagle claw grab and clutch!"
"Grab, strike, pinch, hook, lock, sweep!"
"Upward claw, downward claw, reverse claw, standing claw, upside-down claw!"
"Eagle wings whirl!"
"Flip jump, leg trap jump, leaping lotus leg!"
Beside the creek, Yan Chen kept practicing the "Linked Eagle Claw Fist," picturing the movements of an eagle—grabbing prey, circling midair.
His basic form was decent, getting smoother with practice, but it was just that—basic. True Eagle Claw Fist included footwork, stances, leg techniques, body control, movement flow, and jumps. As soon as Yan Chen tried to incorporate all these together, it became clumsy and disconnected—his form was okay, but it lacked spirit.
Sweat poured.
Yan Chen panted heavily.
He was exhausted, but with the tribal warrior selection only half a month away, and him still far from qualifying for the Eagle Division, he gritted his teeth and kept going under the setting sun.
Fully focused—
Suddenly—
"Practicing like that won't do you any good."
A voice came from nearby.
"Who's there?"
Yan Chen turned his head, startled. A handsome young man in a fur wrap had appeared beside him at some point, speaking in a language Yan Chen didn't understand. As the boy stayed alert, the youth stepped into the clearing and struck a stance—then began demonstrating martial arts.
Yan Chen, though young, was bold.
He stared wide-eyed, watching carefully—
"Strike fast, grab and lock on return. Tendon disruption, pressure point sealing. Agile and fierce. Spirit and form like an eagle."
"Eagle Claw Fist never strays from its roots. Strike fast, four types of grabs—no claw unless the hand is in position. Watch—first the palm spreads wide, fingers open in an eight-pattern. Only when nearing the opponent's wrist or body does it transform suddenly into a claw—grab, hook, pinch, or lock."
"Practice requires precision in claw technique—fluid chaining, rapid and forceful, power sinking into bone."
The youth babbled in a language Yan Chen couldn't understand—it sounded like nonsense.
But that didn't matter.
Watching the young man demonstrate Eagle Claw, he saw echoes of his own techniques—only what he had just been doing looked clumsy in comparison. In this man's hands, those same moves were transformed—
"Aggressive, vicious, rapid, relentless!"
"Still and silent like an eagle stalking a rabbit!"
"He's better than our chief!"
Yan Chen couldn't understand the man's words, but the movements spoke for themselves. The youth demonstrated a full Eagle Claw form, then slowed it down, breaking down each basic element and common structure right before Yan Chen's eyes.
Understanding the words wasn't necessary—
As long as he watched closely, he could learn.
"Form without spirit is no true fist."
"Soaring, hunting, spreading wings, lurking, clawing!"
"All eagle behavior!"
"This guy is an eagle!"
Mesmerized, Yan Chen felt many of his previous doubts and confusions dissolve with each move.
Clarity!
Relief!
Unable to hold back, he started copying the man's movements.
At first it was stiff.
Then a little less stiff.
Still stiff.
"Ugh…"
His face fell.
Understanding is easy—doing it is hard.
Everything seemed so clear while watching, but when it came time to do it himself—everything fell apart.
"Haha!"
"Your foundation's not solid. Without roots, how can you wield the fist?"
The youth laughed.
Yan Chen couldn't understand, but blushed anyway, realizing he was being teased.
At that moment—
The youth picked up a tree branch, and without warning, began whacking him.
"The feet are the base of the body—stand firm and the body follows!"
"The eyes guide, the hands deliver, the feet propel."
"When the feet move forward, the body follows. Backward, the same. Inward angles the body, outward bends it. Kicks and strikes—hands lead, feet command. Punches strike three parts, kicks dominate seven. The foot is swifter than the hand."
"Hip and leg technique!"
"That's the basis of Eagle Claw—and all martial arts!"
Thwack thwack thwack!
The youth muttered non-stop—Yan Chen understood none of it—but the branch directed his body, adjusted his posture, guided his form.
Wrong? Whack!
Not wrong? Still whack!
With just a stick and no shared language, the youth still managed to teach.
Yan Chen was delighted—fully immersed, soaking it in.
In his ears, the man kept rambling—
"Just a little off! Just a little off!"
"If you always practice 'just about right,' then when it counts—you'll always fall just short!"
"Practice!"
"Foundation!"
"Form!"
"Every move, every stance—no room for error!"
The stick stung, his skin smarted—but Yan Chen's heart soared. He could clearly feel his improvement—his Eagle Claw was already leaps better than it had been.
Far more effective than weeks of self-study.
And that was without even understanding a word—
"If only I could understand him…"
"Or if he could speak my language…"
Yan Chen couldn't help wishing.
Then—
The stick stopped. The youth tapped his head three times with it, pointed toward the peak of White Rock Mountain behind the tribe, then drew a crescent moon on the ground.
"Midnight. When the moon is at its highest—I'll meet you up there?"
Yan Chen understood and nodded enthusiastically: "Yes, yes! I'll be there!"
As soon as he said that—
The youth tossed the stick away, pushed off the ground, and leapt into the trees—disappearing with a bound.
"Lightness skill!"
"That's lightness skill!"
Yan Chen was stunned and thrilled. When the man was out of sight, fatigue rushed in, but he still felt energized. He bounced back to the tribe.
At home—
His parents had dinner ready. His younger siblings waited obediently.
Seeing him—
His father frowned: "If martial arts aren't working out, come help with chores. Stop wandering off all day."
His mother was more concerned: "Little Chen, how was training today?"
"Great!"
"I made huge progress!"
With a sly sparkle in his eye, Yan Chen hid the truth about the mysterious teacher. Inside, he thought:
"Heh! Once I've mastered this and get selected for the Eagle Division, you'll all be stunned!"
He gulped down three big bowls of rice—
"I'm full!" He grabbed the bowl and washed up.
Clink clank!
Done in a flash.
"I'm going to bed!"
Then he dashed to his room.
His parents just thought he was discouraged—but in reality, Yan Chen was eager to rest up.
So that at midnight—
He could climb White Rock Mountain…
And learn real skills!
Heh!
Eagle Division—
Here I come!