C13 Promote to Core Disciple

On the journey back to the Sparring Courtyard, the guard escorting Meng Yang refrained from the usual loud scolding and chastisement. Yet, his grip on the hilt of his saber remained tight throughout the trip. His eyes, sharp and watchful as if guarding against a thief, sparked a surge of anger in Meng Yang.

Feeling a mix of alarm and resignation, Meng Yang couldn't help but reflect on his past actions with a tinge of regret. The guard, who had once taken pleasure in belittling the training partners, was now confronted with a former victim who had grown into a formidable individual. Instead of seeing a potential ally, the guard perceived a threat.

At this moment, they viewed Meng Yang as a danger, one that could potentially threaten their very lives. Although Meng Yang was still unaware of the Lin family's upper echelons' reaction to his confrontation with Gao Yubo, one thing was clear: the guard no longer dared to insult him. After all, of the five guards assigned to the training team, four were trailing behind him, excluding the leader. Were they guarding him or had they developed an affection for him?

With the suspicion that the Lin family might now be keeping an eye on him, Meng Yang chose not to stir up any trouble for the time being. Casting a glance at the guard who stood by him like a vigilant protector, he let out a resigned sigh and shifted his focus to his pupils.

The highlight of his day wasn't just his victory over Gao Yubo, but also the exhilarating insight into the True Martial Will that came with the advancement of his martial arts. Meng Yang had been puzzled as to why he couldn't grasp the concept of martial force that Nan Chenhai constantly mentioned. Even the dullest of individuals wouldn't struggle as he did, practicing nearly ten thousand times without a hint of force.

He had assumed that the emergence of a new True Martial Will in his eyes was the breakthrough in martial force he achieved after his battle with Gao Yubo. But the more he pondered, the more perplexed he became. It just didn't add up. If Nan Chenhai was correct, martial force was the ultimate expression of martial arts, born from the essence of True Martial Will.

The concept of True Martial Will seemed more akin to a title given to the ability to extract power from the pinnacle of martial arts techniques.

Though the terms share a root meaning, their implications are starkly different, which can be quite perplexing.

Yet, Meng Yang was confident that if his conjecture was correct,

then this True Will must refer to a classification of martial arts that evolve into both passive and active techniques.

Even if not entirely accurate, it was a close approximation.

...

Upon his return to the Sparring Courtyard, Meng Yang headed to his room after the guards had dismissed everyone.

He was eager to recount his duel with Gao Yubo to Nan Chenhai.

But as he pushed open the door and was about to shout for Nan Chenhai, he was greeted by the faint scent of roasted meat and alcohol.

The aroma, though subtle, made Meng Yang's mouth water profusely, his eyes nearly bulging—he hadn't tasted meat in over two weeks.

"You're back at last. If you'd been any later, I would have started without you."

Nan Chenhai, unable to contain his voracious appetite upon Meng Yang's arrival, snatched up the strong liquor from the table and began to guzzle it down.

He gestured to Meng Yang with his eyes to sit down quickly, indicating he had been waiting for him.

Without a word, Meng Yang let out a bellow and plopped down on Chen Nanhai's bed.

But suddenly, Meng Yang paused, a puzzled frown crossing his face as he glanced around the room.

His focused gaze eventually settled on the spotless empty bed.

"Where's the black man?"

Meng Yang finally realized what had seemed amiss when he first entered.

The black man who had been critically injured and comatose was gone.

"He's gone, didn't pull through..."

Nan Chenhai, with a trace of liquor at his lips, passed the bottle to Meng Yang and sighed, saying no more.

Meng Yang looked momentarily stunned, then exhaled a sigh. Without hesitation, he took a swig of the liquor.

"Bleh, what is this? It's got a sour note..."

After just one sip, Meng Yang nearly tossed the bottle aside, but Nan Chenhai was quick to snatch it back.

Observing Meng Yang's grimace as if he had just drunk poison, Nan Chenhai shook the bottle with a look of regret and chided, "You really can't appreciate the finer things. This is a renowned wine from the Lin family—many people long to taste it but can't, like you..."

"I wouldn't drink this wine even if it were given to me for free."

Meng Yang touched his lips, ready to retort, when he suddenly sensed that something was amiss.

Hesitating, he ventured, "You mentioned that many can't get a taste of this, myself included. What do you mean by that? Isn't this wine and meat a reward from the Lin family for my victory over the core disciple today?"

At these words, Nan Chenhai, who was mid-drink, nearly choked.

He shot Meng Yang a sidelong glance filled with scorn. "You really have a talent for tall tales."

"It's the truth..."

Meng Yang, faced with Nan Chenhai's mocking look, was at a loss for words. He recounted the day's events with Gao Yubo.

Throughout the story, Nan Chenhai maintained a skeptical demeanor, as if to say, "If I believe you, I must be out of my mind," which irked Meng Yang to no end.

Finally, Meng Yang couldn't be bothered to explain any further. He pursed his lips, ready to dive into the bowl of roast meat.

But before his hand reached halfway, Nan Chenhai slapped it away.

"You're free to drink the wine, but this meat is off-limits for you..."

Meng Yang, utterly baffled, was about to inquire further when a series of knocks sounded at the door.

Under normal circumstances, Meng Yang would have been thoroughly perplexed.

Given his status, people typically barged in without knocking.

Yet, after his confrontation with Gao Yubo, he suspected that the Lin family was extending a gesture of goodwill or perhaps delivering a reward.

Recalling Nan Chenhai's earlier disparaging comments, Meng Yang couldn't help but feel a smug anticipation, eager to see the look of surprise on Nan Chenhai's face. He quickly got up and opened the door.

Curious, Nan Chenhai couldn't resist trailing behind Meng Yang, eager to discover the identity of the visitor.

But as the door swung open, Nan Chenhai's weathered face involuntarily twitched.

His eyes widened in shock, as if beholding the incredible.

Meng Yang, too, was taken aback. He had expected a guard, but instead, it was him.

Lee Shen, who typically looked down his nose at others with scorn, now gazed at Meng Yang with a smile.

Behind Lee Shen stood three servants, each cradling a wooden tray in their hands and bowing their heads.

Each tray was draped with a red silk cloth, seemingly holding three distinct items.

As Meng Yang was about to voice his curiosity, Lee Shen, anticipating his question, promptly announced, "Master Meng, after four consecutive exemplary performances in the sparring sessions, it is my honor to elevate you from a junior training partner to a core disciple of the Lin family."

"Master Meng..."

Meng Yang caught sight of Lee Shen's ingratiating smile and his exposed yellow teeth.

Taking a deep breath, Meng Yang quickly quelled the tumult of emotions within him, striving to appear composed.

Yet, as the title "Master Meng" left Lee Shen's lips, Meng Yang couldn't contain his overwhelming joy.

Every cell in his body quivered intensely at the sound of those words.

Nan Chenhai, standing nearby, was so taken aback by Lee Shen's declaration that his inner energy roiled and his heart thumped uncontrollably.

His mind went blank, his thoughts thrown into disarray.