At dawn, when the first hint of light appeared on the horizon, over thirty teenagers had already gathered at the edge of Xiao Village. They practiced a set of fist techniques called the *Fierce Tiger Fist*, their punches slicing through the air with sharp whistles, creating an imposing spectacle.
Among them, a lean, fair-faced boy clad in coarse linen stood out. Though only fifteen, his execution of the fist technique flowed like quicksilver—seamless and relentless, far surpassing his peers in mastery. Even Xiao Dashan, the notoriously strict martial instructor, wore a rare smile of approval.
"Brother Ye's *Fierce Tiger Fist* rivals even Uncle Dashan's!" whispered one youth in awe.
"Of course! Brother Ye has reached the eighth level of the Body Refining Realm. Only Xiao Teng among the younger generation can match him," another replied.
"Xiao Teng is also at the eighth level. Who do you think is stronger?" a third chimed in, sparking heated whispers.
In martial arts, the Body Refining Realm focused on tempering the physique, divided into nine tiers. Most village youths lingered around the sixth tier.
"Hmph! Xiao Teng only reached his level because his father leads the hunting team and showers him with resources. Brother Ye achieved this through sheer hard work! How can they compare?" a girl retorted sharply.
"But Xiao Teng's eighth-tier strength isn't fake. He might not lose to Brother Ye," a boy countered lazily.
...
"Who's stronger—me or Xiao Teng?" Xiao Ye wiped sweat from his brow, smiling faintly at the familiar debate. Once, Xiao Teng had been a worthy rival. But last night, Xiao Ye had quietly broken through to the **ninth tier of the Body Refining Realm**. Only Xiao Dashan knew.
"Enough chatter! Want extra drills?" barked Xiao Dashan, his hawk-like gaze silencing the group.
From the crowd, a tall, broad-shouldered youth glared venomously at Xiao Ye. This was Xiao Teng, the village's other prodigy.
"Why do they always say I'm inferior?!" Xiao Teng seethed. His father, captain of the hunting team, lavished him with medicinal resources, yet Xiao Ye—poor, meat-scarce—matched him. Villagers whispered that Xiao Ye was the *true* genius. The injustice burned.
"Once Father buys me a Body Refining Pill to reach the ninth tier, I'll crush you publicly. They'll all see *I'm* the best!"
...
As Xiao Ye practiced, his mind churned.
"What use is being first in the village? If I can't join the Chongyang Sect and obtain spirit medicines, Father's injuries will never heal!"
His father, Xiao Yang, once a mighty warrior, now lay bedridden—his meridians shattered. Only rare elixirs could mend them. But their remote village in Qingyang Town lacked such treasures.
Years ago, Xiao Ye had learned of the Chongyang Sect from village records—a martial sanctuary within the Black Dragon Kingdom, famed for its miracle cures. Every three years, it recruited disciples.
"But youths from noble families, raised on rare herbs, reach the ninth tier effortlessly. With just Body Refining ninth-tier strength, my chances are slim..."
To secure entry, he needed the **Houtian Realm**—where refined flesh births true qi. Even a novice Houtian warrior could obliterate a crowd of Body Refining experts. Yet breaking through was monstrously difficult. The village, with 200 households, boasted only a handful of Houtian experts, all over thirty.
"If only... my *illness* would strike again," Xiao Ye mused wryly.
At nine, he'd developed a mysterious affliction. Each agonizing flare-up inexplicably accelerated his cultivation. Last night's third episode had propelled him to the ninth tier. He kept this secret, lest he be branded a monster.
By noon, drills ended.
"Dismissed!" Xiao Dashan called. The youths scattered like startled sparrows.
"Xiao Ye," Dashan approached warmly, "Keep pushing. Reach Houtian, bring glory to the village!"
Had the village chief not been secluded, Dashan would've shared the breakthrough news.
Returning home, Xiao Ye wolfed down a meal and resumed practicing in his yard. The Chongyang trials loomed in a year.
*Fierce Tiger Fist*, though not even a first-grade martial skill, excelled at tempering the body.
"Cough! Cough!"
A pallid middle-aged man emerged—Xiao Yang. Seeing his son's worry, he waved weakly. "Don't fret over me. What of the Chongyang trials?"
"I'll make it," Xiao Ye lied brightly. His father saw through it but said nothing, retreating with a sigh.
"I *will* enter Chongyang. I *will* heal you," Xiao Ye vowed, clenching his fists.
Suddenly, the gate burst open. A panting boy cried, "Brother Ye! Liu Yiyi's back! She's at the chief's house!"
*Liu Yiyi*.
The name detonated in Xiao Ye's mind, unleashing a flood of buried emotions.
Their childhood sweetheart, adopted by the village, she'd been whisked away two years prior by a Chongyang elder. Villagers had jokingly betrothed them; his parents already saw her as their daughter-in-law.
Xiao Ye had hoped reuniting with her awaited his entry to Chongyang. Yet here she was—returned.
Heart pounding, Xiao Ye sprinted toward the chief's home. The girl who'd haunted his dreams for two years was back.