Chapter 49: The Bell-Striking Method

After breakfast, they rested only briefly before resuming their training. For the past half month, Tang Shen and Kuina had spent nearly every day in this manner.

Wrist strength exercises began with stone locks, progressing to the jar-lifting method. The jar-lifting method trains the suspended force of the arm and, simultaneously, the grip of both hands. It employs an iron jar tied with a short rope, the other end fastened to a wooden pole. The pole must be sturdy and unyielding, not prone to breaking, and measures ten feet—just over three meters long.

At first, the iron jar weighed twenty pounds. Grasping the far end of the pole was extremely taxing, for like a lever, it magnifies the weight—ten pounds per foot, thus a full ten feet equates to a hundred pounds. This exercise targets the wrists specifically, making it a grueling ordeal.

They would assume a horse stance, backs straight, gripping the pole's end. Using only wrist strength, they would lift the iron jar until their elbow was level with the shoulder. At that moment, the forearm stood upright and slightly forward, thumbs facing each other, palms outward. Once lifted, after the jar steadied, the hands would alternate between a dead grip and a live grip, gradually twisting the pole inward to wind the rope and raise the jar until it was level with the chest. After a brief pause, they would lower it slowly. Thirty repetitions made a set.

Despite the stone lock training, the jar-lifting method was still grueling and painful. Every lift and every rotation funneled nearly all their strength into the wrists. After each session, both Tang Shen and Kuina’s wrists swelled like loaves of bread, painfully tender to the touch.

Wrists, by nature fragile, ached tenfold compared to the pillar training. Yet, they endured, adapting in short order thanks to their physical resilience and the prior stone lock exercises.

Of course, Tang Shen also had a special ointment to help. For the wrist, massage alone was useless—otherwise, such relentless daily training would be impossible. While hunting wild beasts, Tang Shen had noticed a wealth of herbs in the forest. Though this world consisted mostly of islands, the land was fertile, and many herbs were unknown to its people—but not to Tang Shen.

He gathered herbs like Sichuan aconite, arisaema, and bone-penetrating grass. What he couldn’t find, he bought in town with beli, then crafted ointments to aid their wrists, with remarkable results.

Now, the jar-lifting method had evolved into the bell-striking method—a more advanced technique. If the former trained suspended force, the latter honed the application of wrist power. The pole was replaced with a bamboo rod, two feet longer for a total of twelve feet. At its tip hung a circular iron weight of forty pounds. The longer the pole, the greater the leverage—twenty pounds per foot, two hundred forty at twelve feet—nearing the breaking point of the bamboo. Bamboo, more flexible than wood, was even harder to control.

Unlike the jar-lifting method, this exercise required gripping the opposite end of the bamboo and using the tip to strike a bell. Each successful ring counted as one repetition. But it wasn't just once; Tang Shen would tap the iron weight with a stick, and Kuina had to match her strikes to his rhythm. As the tempo increased, she had to keep up, persisting for a quarter of an hour to reach basic proficiency.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

There was Tang Shen, seated to one side, rhythmically tapping the iron block on his knee with a wooden stick. Kuina, in a horse stance, gripped the bamboo rod with her right hand, her wrist subtly controlling the oscillating, bending rod, directing her strength precisely to the iron weight at the tip, then striking the bell with a sharp blow.

The process seemed simple, but was in fact deeply challenging: strength, the maintenance of power transmission, the control of the iron weight—every detail had to be perfect, or the force would be misdirected.

Clang!

The use of wrist strength had to be exquisitely precise, with a high degree of control. Without hesitation, Tang Shen struck again, and Kuina had to match him. Again and again.

Had it not been for the foundation laid by the stone locks and jar-lifting, they would have been unable to control even the bamboo. While they had grown accustomed to the jar-lifting method, the bell-striking method felt like starting all over.

After Kuina’s turn, Tang Shen took over. They took turns.

Half an hour later, both their wrists were swollen, mottled with purple bruises—a frightening sight. Their faces twisted with pain, sweat soaking their bodies. This was truly inhuman—utterly tormenting.

Yet they uttered not a word of complaint. They watched over each other, encouraged each other, and progressed together, forming a tacit bond.

Indeed…

“Kuina, look! My wrist’s more swollen than yours!” Tang Shen, grimacing, applied the black ointment he’d concocted and grinned.

Kuina rolled her eyes in exasperation. What was there to compare? Her wrists were plenty swollen, too! Besides, if Tang Shen hadn’t practiced a few minutes longer than she had, his wouldn’t be so bad. Next time, she would surpass him for sure.

As the ointment touched her wrist, a cool sensation spread, tingling all the way to her scalp. The burning, swollen ache faded by more than half.

Tang Shen carefully massaged both wrists as he applied the ointment, and the swelling visibly receded before their eyes—remarkably fast, almost magical.

Every time Kuina witnessed this, she was astonished. She had seen it since their first jar-lifting practice. No matter the problem with her training, Tang Shen always had a swift, miraculous solution—never once hindering her progress.

After she finished with her own wrists, she began to massage Tang Shen’s, her technique deft and precise.

“Mmm, that feels good!”

“Ah, easy, easy!”

“Oh, right there, a bit harder!”

“Master, could you please not make those noises?”

“Huh? Of course not. If it hurts I’ll cry out; if it feels good, I’ll make a sound, too. Otherwise how would you know what I feel?”

Every time, Tang Shen would let out odd sounds, making Kuina rather embarrassed—especially since some students would stretch their necks, peeking over in curiosity and whispering among themselves.

How exasperating! But there was nothing she could do.

After two more sets and the swelling had fully subsided, a system prompt sounded in Tang Shen’s mind: [Spirit +1]

Tang Shen: “…”

If he wasn’t mistaken, the Spirit +1 was due to enduring pain every day. The thought made him feel both resigned and oddly proud. His pain tolerance was clearly increasing.

Each time, the pain in his wrists felt as if they would snap, yet the black ointment brought such relief that he almost became addicted to the sensation. Sometimes he wondered if he was developing some extraordinary hidden attribute.

The mere thought made his skin crawl.

Delving further, he even felt a little thrill.