Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Unyielding Pillar

"Second Brother really said that? He even gave you a family recipe for nourishing the bones?" Yue Wuhuo asked, his expression peculiar.

"Yes. Senior Brother Yue also told me to practice my stance diligently, but I don't quite understand what he means," Kou Li replied with a frown.

Though he and Yue Wuhuo saw each other daily in the martial hall, they had never truly spoken. After showing his potential, it was even more unlikely for Yue to provoke him without reason.

"When a man shows you favor, he must want something in return. Haha, don't get the wrong idea. Second Brother has a rough temperament—asking him to curry favor is truly a challenge for him."

"Senior Brother, are you saying he's trying to win me over?" Kou Li was dumbfounded.

"Exactly. Fierce Tiger Fist was entrusted to him by a close relative, and perfecting it has always been his obsession. Yet, after more than ten years, all he achieved was fusing the seventeen techniques into one, creating Tiger Pounce—his limit. He must have long abandoned hope. But your appearance has given him new hope."

Kou Li began to grasp his meaning, but still puzzled, he asked, "Giving me the bone-nourishing formula is to help me recover, but what about the stance practice—"

"That's what I need to talk to you about. Eighth Brother, tell me: once you've recovered, what do you plan to do?"

"Learn boxing from you, Senior Brother, and train my body as soon as possible," Kou Li answered firmly.

"My opinion is the same as Second Brother's. I hope you spend half a year to a year perfecting your hard stance."

Kou Li immediately frowned. "Why?"

He didn't believe his senior couldn't see that his stance work was already accomplished—not only could he seal his pores, he could even generate force from his dantian. Even mastering the hard stance would only bring him to this level, so why waste time on the lesser when he could focus on the greater?

At his age, to reach his peak, he could not afford a moment's slack—let alone squander time. Besides, he hadn't forgotten his three-month promise.

Luo Yanzong saw his thoughts at a glance and sighed inwardly at his ambition. He explained, "You think stance training is just to help you sense 'qi,' don't you?"

"Yes."

"That is most important, but it's only internal training, not external. External stance training cultivates the unity of breath, intent, and force; it teaches you to experience offensive and defensive power, synchronize hands, eyes, body, and footwork, and correct flaws in your boxing technique."

Seeing Kou Li about to speak, Luo Yanzong gestured for patience. "I know you've grasped the essence of Fierce Tiger Fist, so these may seem trivial to you. But the most crucial point is this: by practicing the hard stance, gathering and dispersing your vitality, you strengthen tendons, muscles, and bones, increasing your body's resistance to blows. As the old saying goes, 'To learn to strike, first learn to take a beating...'"

Kou Li pressed his lips together and said bluntly, "Senior Brother, you should know that all that tempering and hardship is just part of the process for me. I'm not arrogant or careless about my foundation. But does hard stance training really work? The Pursuing Wolf, Lu Yao from the Five Forms Hall, and those apprentice fighters from common backgrounds—haven't they all practiced the hard stance? Yet none of them can really take a hit."

"But they're all southern boxing masters. When you encounter a northern boxing master, you'll suffer a serious loss. With your current physique, you might even be beaten by someone with only basic skills."

"When you're healed, I'll fight you with northern boxing. Then you'll understand," Luo Yanzong said slowly.

"No need. I can do it now," Kou Li replied, flexing his fingers and unwrapping the linen from his wound. "I'm almost healed."

"What?" Luo Yanzong was slightly stunned; he'd expected it would take at least two weeks for Kou Li to recover.

"I've had a new insight into Fierce Tiger Fist," Kou Li replied.

As soon as he finished speaking, he drew a deep breath—so powerful it made the surrounding flowers and grass bow. He inhaled without exhaling, his abdomen swelling and contracting, and a series of tiger roars echoed from within him.

Even though Kou Li had not yet moved, in Luo Yanzong's eyes, he had already transformed into a white-striped tiger, eyes bloodshot and fixed on him.

"A Boxing Genius!" Luo Yanzong drew a breath. "If Second Brother knew about this, he might even kowtow to you in gratitude."

To achieve the state of the Boxing Spirit meant being a hair's breadth from true mastery—a hope rekindled. Luo Yanzong had seen many prodigies—some rose, most died young—but never one like this Eighth Brother. He had no accumulation, but his momentum was overwhelming!

Before he could think further, the tiger's shadow leaped at him. True fighters never waste words when fists can speak.

Without any visible movement, Luo Yanzong's figure shifted half a yard sideways. He spoke as he moved: "Northern boxing excels in legwork—heavy as iron, precise as a nail, sweeping as an axe, and kicks like a collapsing mountain. Both fists and legs are as hard as iron blocks; movements are grand and forceful, and every punch lands like a hammer!"

As his words fell, his leg slashed down like a chopping blade, instantly thickening as if an assault pillar swept by. Kou Li's spine rippled, and in a flash, he vanished beneath the descending leg.

"Turning Mountain Variegated Hammer!"

Luo Yanzong didn't retract his leg; his arm swung down like a hammer, colliding with Kou Li's double-throat strike from an uncanny angle.

A deep thud resounded.

With only one foot supporting him, his balance should have been compromised. Yet the one forced back was Kou Li.

So hard!

This was Kou Li's first impression.

He had used force from his dantian just to barely withstand that iron-axe strike, but his blood and energy were left unstable.

Before he could steady his stance, another attack came.

"Raising Hand Cannon!"

The descending leg crashed down, and with both man and fist, Luo Yanzong executed a horse-stance cannon punch—like an armored soldier on horseback, using the mount's momentum to drive a long spear. But it was a pike, not a spear—the pike, thicker and unbending.

Kou Li knew instantly he could not block it. Like a tiger flicking off a flea, his body shuddered, his waist twisting sharply. His lower body stayed put, but his upper body shifted aside.

A tiger, being quadrupedal, turns with its waist, not its head.

This dodge was deft.

Yet, a searing pain suddenly lanced through his waist—a confirmation of the old saying: a graze is an injury, a direct hit is death.

Kou Li gritted his teeth, tiger spirit flooding his mind. His boxing stance gathered and dispersed, pulling his scattered energy into tiger form—Crouching Tiger, Five-Stripe Tiger Hugging Hammer—striking out with fierce strength.

Impressive—his boxing had reached the spirit of the technique, already rivaling the toughness of northern boxing, Luo Yanzong thought with growing gravity. Planting his feet in the Big Dipper stance, he spun his shoulder and launched three cannon punches!

Northern boxing, aside from hard blocks and deflections, had among its masters those who sensed the vastness of the earth, merging heaven and starry constellations into their power. These three punches, indistinguishable in order, fell like meteors. When they clashed with the tiger's pounding blows, Kou Li was sent flying over twenty feet, his blood boiling like water, impossible to suppress.

"This Star Cannon Fist, I learned it in the capital a decade ago from a friend. After I broke through with the Monument-Shattering Hand, I set it aside, since their principles are similar. My mastery of this one only hovers at the edge of proficiency. Eighth Brother, what do you think?"

Kou Li exhaled deeply. "When you fought, you didn't use dantian force."

"Indeed. Northern styles focus more on channeling power into the fists, not on explosive short-range force."

"Your stance is high, full of openings, but in this approach, flaws aren't really flaws. Using stance power to drive muscle and fascia—northern boxing truly is different from southern boxing."

"Do you understand now?"

"If I master the hard stance, my tendons, bones, and skin can withstand the penetrating force instead of scattering at a single collision. With my level in Fierce Tiger Fist, I might not lose. The northern style checks boxers like me—those with skill but insufficient physique."

Luo Yanzong nodded in satisfaction. This Eighth Brother truly had talent for martial arts; had he started as a child, he might have rivaled Third Brother. Even now, it wasn't too late.

He was about to speak when Kou Li turned and walked away. "Rest assured, Senior Brother. If I can't reach the level where I can take your punch with the hard stance, I won't practice any other boxing technique."

Luo Yanzong was left speechless. He had merely wanted to correct Kou Li's technical flaws. After all, he was a second-tier expert himself—by Kou Li's logic, few in the northern circles could take such a blow head-on.

For the first time, he began to wonder if his teaching methods had been somewhat excessive.