The door didn't stand a chance. With a thunderous CRACK, it exploded inward as Mu Jang's boot connected, sending splinters and hinges clattering across the room.
"Good morning, flower," the giant man rumbled cheerfully. "You've got sixty seconds to get to the courtyard. Fifty-nine… fifty-eight…"
Jinhu shot upright in bed, eyes wide with panic. Mu Jang's steps faded down the hallway, several heads peeked out of neighboring doors. Silent Edge members. All used to the morning chaos. None spoke a word. They valued their doors too much.
---
Day One. Courtyard. Dawn.
Jinhu stood blinking under the pale morning light, rubbing sleep from his eyes and wondering if he'd stepped into a nightmare. Mu Jang didn't speak. He didn't need to. He walked to the center of the courtyard and dropped into a wide stance, fists raised, breath steady.
He moved. Each step was deliberate, thunderous. His heels sank into the packed clay, leaving deep imprints. Arms flowed with coiled strength. At the peak of the form, Mu Jang twisted and drove his right fist forward. BOOM. The air cracked. A crater smoked in the courtyard wall. Birds scattered from the trees. Somewhere in the barracks, someone swore.
Jinhu's jaw slackened. "No way in hell I can do that..." He raised a hand tentatively. "Uh... Master Mu Jang... is there, maybe, a scroll?"
Mu Jang blinked. "Scroll?" "I... can't read," he admitted. "And I sure as hell don't write."
He stared at Jinhu, then at the ground. A long pause.
Then he grunted, turned back to the courtyard, and took a deep breath. "Fine. Watch."
This time, he moved slower. Every motion intentional. His steps landed heavily, carving fresh footprints. Shoulders pivoted. Hips drove the movement. Each part broken down like a master craftsman revealing the secrets of his forge. "
You want to read?" he said, not unkindly. "Read this."
He stepped aside. BOOM. Landing behind Jinhu in a single bound, he shoved him forward. "Now read." Jinhu stumbled into the footprints, wide-eyed. He looked down at the trail of power left behind. He took his first step.
Somewhere behind him, Mu Jang watched with crossed arms, hiding the faintest smile beneath his beard. For the rest of the morning, Jinhu struggled. His steps were uneven. His stance too tight. His punches lacked the weight of an avalanche. But he didn't quit. And Mu Jang—brutal, relentless Mu Jang—watched with the eyes of a teacher who, for once, had something worth passing on.
---
That Evening. The sun dipped low behind the mountains. The courtyard was marked with deep prints and scuffed patches. Jinhu sat cross-legged, drenched in sweat, legs trembling, knuckles bruised, but eyes locked on the muddy impressions left in the clay.
Mu Jang returned, two bowls in one hand and a jug of water in the other. He dropped one bowl in front of Jinhu with a loud clack and settled beside him. "My master taught me this footwork," Mu Jang said, staring into the fading sky. "I watched him crush a man's rib cage into dust. Asked how. He said: 'The mountain don't move for anyone—but if it did, it'd look like this.'"
He jabbed a finger at the ground. Jinhu followed the prints with his eyes, nodding. "You want elegance? Go train with Wu Jin. He'll teach you how to float." Mu Jang grunted. "But I'll teach you how to stand. How to break the earth beneath your enemies. That's what Earth Splitting Footwork is." He leaned forward, bowl on one knee, voice low. "Before you sleep, stare at those prints. Burn them into your mind. Your legs are your roots. Train until they scream. When your fists carry the weight of a mountain, you'll understand the first form."
Mu Jang took a bite, chewed. Then added, like an afterthought, "Don't screw it up." Jinhu didn't respond. He dipped a finger into the shallow indent of Mu Jang's heel print and traced it. He wouldn't forget.
Mu Jang stood with a groan, towering like the mountain he wanted Jinhu to become. Then, with a mischievous grin: "Oh, by the way." Jinhu looked up. "No joint training until after the tournament, or was it until after you learn footwork? Mu Jang scratched his head. "Either way...Wu Jin said you're all mine until then." A monstrous laugh followed, echoing. Jinhu blinked, unsure whether to feel relief or dread. Did he fear the mountain or the Rod? Probably both.
---
Day Two. Courtyard. Dawn.
BOOM. Another door reduced to kindling. "I'm awake, I'm awake, dammit!" Jinhu screamed. "Sixty seconds," Mu Jang called down the hall. "Fifty-nine… fifty-eight..." More heads peeked out. None spoke. They liked their doors. T
he second day was worse. Jinhu duck-walked with logs strapped to his shoulders, buckets of water dangling from a pole balanced across his neck. He staggered. Cursed. Fell. Tried again. "Legs, not lungs!"
Mu Jang barked. "Push from the ground! You want to punch like a boulder? Train like one!"
Midway through a brutal set of uphill lunges, a familiar presence arrived. Wu Jin stood at the edge, arms folded, face unreadable. Mu Jang noticed.
He strode over. "Commander."
Wu Jin nodded. "You're pushing him hard."
Mu Jang grunted. "He'll master two forms in two weeks."
Wu Jin glanced at Jinhu.
Mu Jang crossed his arms. "I gave my word. He has to."
Wu Jin paused. Then: "See that he does."
He turned and vanished like a passing shadow.
Mu Jang didn't miss a beat. "You hear that? You've got two weeks to master two forms."
Jinhu turned, aghast. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TELL HIM THAT?"
Mu Jang flicked a small throwing spike. It zipped past Jinhu's cheek, slicing a shallow line and embedding in the wall. "Because I believe you can," Mu Jang said, eyes blazing. "Stop yelling or next one's coming for your forehead. Now move."
---
The next four days passed the same. Each began with a flying door and Mu Jang's cheerful countdown. Jinhu ached everywhere, but his movements began to stabilize. Stances deepened. Breathing found rhythm.
On the seventh morning, Jinhu dragged his trunk to the door and stacked his table atop it. He sat, arms crossed, daring fate. Today was the day his door stayed intact.
BOOM.
The door, trunk, and table exploded inward. Jinhu stared, slack-jawed. Mu Jang stepped through the wreckage. "Damnit! I can't afford a new trunk! What the hell, man?!"
Mu Jang picked up a chair and hurled it. It bounced off the wall, nearly missing Jinhu's head. "I said no yelling. Sixty seconds."
He grinned. "Fifty-nine… fifty-eight..."
In the courtyard Mu Jang watched him silently, arms crossed. After a long moment, he gave a grunt that almost sounded like approval. "Didn't think you'd get there so soon," he muttered.
He pointed toward the courtyard, where fresh prints marked Jinhu's path. "That's what we call the first form. Earthshaker's Mark. It is your most solid base. Mu Jang grinned, flexing one thick arm like he was showing off a trophy.
"It's your most solid base. The anchor. You gather your qi...from your calves, through your thighs, hips, up your back, and down your arm. Then you punch, and explode it outward."
He jabbed a thumb at the still-smoking crater. "Do it right, and you'll leave craters like that one." "For now just focus on becoming the immovable mountain Jinhu." He added.
Jinhu, drenched in sweat and barely standing, managed a crooked smile. The earth beneath his feet didn't feel so impossible anymore. This was the day he mastered the first form of the Earth Splitter footwork...Earthshaker's Mark. He had one week left to master another. Thanks to Wu Jang.