Chapter 42: Believe it or not, I'll jump up and hit your knee [Seeking Rewards]

In the blink of an eye, another five days had passed. Tang Shen had already become accustomed to this regimented life. The weight on a single leg had reached fifty pounds, and a hundred pounds on both legs. When he walked across the training ground, each step landed with a heavy thud, a sound that was strangely satisfying.

So much so, the once-solid earth of the training field now bore the marks of their exertions, pitted with one depression after another. If the ground had been any softer, each step would have left a deep footprint.

It was still dark outside the Yixin Dojo, the sky yet to lighten, when two figures—one tall, one slight—were seen squatting atop wooden stakes. Though neither was particularly burly, from a distance they stood like two stone pillars, exuding a faint air of solemnity and gravity, as immovable as mountains.

Their legs were taut as steel, unbending under the burden of a hundred pounds, not sinking even a fraction. Their breathing was steady and deep, a low rumble in the chest, the breath sinking into the dantian, pressing downward so that the energy of their entire body struck toward the earth, steady as a hill.

This was the Pillar Stance technique. Tang Shen and Kuina had devoted themselves to its practice, having fully grasped the basics and rapidly progressing toward proficiency.

Both were wholly absorbed, giving not an inch of slack.

Not far away, a furtive figure appeared, carrying two heavy iron blocks. With careful control, he leapt onto a homemade stake and placed the weights upon his thighs. Soon, he too entered a focused state, a look of satisfaction spreading over his face.

Yes, every day at this hour, the horse stance was a must—anything less felt unnatural!

Time passed by the second, the sky shifting from pitch black to a pale gray. After half an hour, Tang Shen was drenched in sweat, the moisture streaming from his pores like a rushing brook. Kuina was no less soaked.

Yet neither moved. As time wore on, their bodies began to waver, muscles pulled taut to their limits, but they gritted their teeth and endured.

At last, as a single ray of sunlight broke over the horizon—

A long, resonant cry burst from Tang Shen’s dantian, accompanied by a rush of turbid breath. A strand of vapor, thicker than the white threads that usually marked the horse stance, shot from his lips, traveling five inches before dissipating.

Immediately after, a shriller cry followed—Kuina’s.

At that moment, Koushirou opened his eyes wide, staring intently. Since yesterday, he had noticed Kuina also breathing out that white vapor. At first, he thought it a trick of the eye, but today it was clear: it was real, though thinner than the plume Tang Shen had produced at first, almost imperceptible. At the same time, Tang Shen’s vapor was growing thicker, the change slight but noticeable to a keen observer.

What was the principle behind this? Koushirou was baffled. He had never experienced such a sensation himself. He merely knew that this stance work, while uncomfortable, was beneficial to the body. He sensed, faintly, that his injury was healing faster, though the effect was slight—he could not be sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

He reasoned that perhaps his own strength was too great, requiring more time and heavier weights for the effect to show. Still, he decided to take it slow; after all, he was secretly learning this. If he couldn’t resist letting out a long cry, he would be exposed.

Truthfully, his concern for his daughter was genuine, not the least bit motivated by guilt at secretly copying the training—he would never admit to such a thing.

Thud!

With a loud crash, Kuina tumbled from her stake to the ground, making quite a commotion.

Every time Koushirou witnessed this, his heart ached, but he forced himself to stay put. Now was not the time to reveal himself—if he did, that unruly fellow would surely mock him to his face. Worse yet, knowing Kuina, she would probably side with Tang Shen and shame him as well.

After all, he knew his own daughter’s temperament very well. The thought of such a scene already made him wince inwardly.

Moreover—

Thud!

Another dull sound—Tang Shen had jumped down from his stake. But as soon as his feet hit the ground, his face contorted. He had forgotten once again to reduce the weights.

Why “again”? Because this wasn’t the first time—he had simply been too caught up in his triumph.

The sensation was even more sour than the most fermented pickled vegetables.

After squatting for over an hour, he had already reached his limit; moving his legs at all was impressive, let alone jumping down with the weights adding to the rebound. The stakes weren’t high—barely two feet—but at this moment, Tang Shen felt like a salted fish longing to cry out “six six six” in admiration, his face twisted in agony.

In truth, he was getting used to this feeling. The discomfort was fleeting, and after enduring it more than once, today’s recovery was visibly faster than yesterday’s.

He grinned, reduced the weights to zero, and hobbled over to Kuina, plopping down beside her. A careful eye would notice his legs trembling—not just at their limit, but well past it.

“Heh heh… Look at that, Kuina, you were the first to fall again!” Tang Shen crowed, his sweat-soaked face radiating smug satisfaction.

At the very least, that’s how Koushirou saw it. Every time he saw that look, he felt the urge to draw his sword and cut Tang Shen down. Though he restrained himself each time, the impulse was always there.

“Next time, I’ll last the longest,” Kuina retorted, black lines of frustration crossing her face. She could not abide her master’s perverse sense of humor, but she refused to accept defeat, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Best of luck, then,” Tang Shen replied with a dismissive curl of his lip, his tone devoid of sincerity, which only made Kuina want to leap up and kick him in the knee. Unfortunately, she was utterly spent, her body unwilling to move an inch.

Wearing a look of supreme self-satisfaction, Tang Shen reduced Kuina’s weights to zero, and then, with great care, began massaging her legs, his expression growing serious.

Her pale face was slick with sweat, and she let out soft moans of pain, too exhausted to stay angry.

Sometimes, Tang Shen could hardly bear it, watching this little girl pushing herself so fiercely to train with him. She was still just a child, yet insisted on keeping pace. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to stop, for a person without dreams was no better than a salted fish.

This was a truth Tang Shen had thoroughly comprehended in his previous life.

At this moment, his own stamina had long since been spent. The Pillar Stance consumed enormous energy, draining him every second. Yet, even with his strength gone, he remained steady as a mountain, not betraying the slightest weakness.

He even managed to massage Kuina’s legs with precisely the right pressure, as if nothing were amiss.