Time flowed silently, like water slipping through one's fingers. For three full months, ever since that fateful night when he received the old beggar's relic, Tran Kien had immersed himself in another world. When the entirety of Fallen Leaf Town had sunk into a deep slumber, with only the chirping of insects and the bright silver moonlight piercing through the thatched roof, muffled grunts and the whistling of wind from fists and kicks echoed within the dilapidated hut. This was testament to his cruel, bitter cultivation of the Thiet Dot Mnemonic.
This mnemonic possessed no profound dharma to absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, nor did it contain any exalted incantations. It only consisted of martial postures so simple they were brutal, demanding extraordinary patience and endurance, squeezing out every drop of sweat, and testing every limit of the mortal body. Certain stances required him to hold a one-legged horse stance while lifting a massive boulder, remaining completely motionless for an entire sichen (two hours). Sweat poured down like rain, the muscles across his entire body trembled violently, and his bones let out dry, cracking sounds as if they were about to shatter apart.
Yet, Tran Kien did not give up. Clenching his teeth, his resolute gaze fixed on the empty air, his mind continuously visualized the faint stream of hot qi circulating within his body according to the guiding lines on the stone elephant statue. He understood that this was not merely tempering his muscles; it was the forging of his will.
The transformation arrived silently but distinctly. His once scrawny figure now bore the definition of taut muscles; hidden beneath his coarse cloth garments was a latent, explosive power. His tanned skin had become healthy and lustrous, and every step he took was as steady and immovable as a boulder. This change was most evident in his daily ore-smashing work. The heavy iron hammer now felt light and nimble in his hands. With his astute observation, a mere glance was all it took to find the weak point of an ore boulder. A single hammer strike descending, wielding neither too much nor too little force, would strike precisely upon the stone vein, causing the massive ore boulder to cleanly shatter apart. His efficiency had multiplied several times over, yet the stamina consumed was not even half of what it used to be.
However, the tree desires stillness, but the wind will not cease. Tran Kien's abnormalities had early on fallen into the eyes of Overseer Ton, a mine supervisor notorious for his greed and cruelty. And more importantly, it had made Ton Hao, his only son—a pampered young master accustomed to relying on his backing to bully others—feel extremely displeased.
On a sweltering summer noon, Ton Hao swaggered over, accompanied by two burly, fierce-looking lackeys.
"Orphan brat, I heard you've grown stronger recently?" Ton Hao lifted his chin, his tone brimming with provocation. He pointed towards a large pile of ore stacked as high as a small hill. "That pile of ore, you will handle it all by yourself before sunset. If you can't finish it, don't even dream of getting your wages."
The surrounding miners all bowed their heads; no one dared to utter a word. Tran Kien raised his head, his calm eyes looking straight at Ton Hao without showing the slightest trace of fear. He knew Ton Hao clearly wanted to humiliate him. If he resisted with martial force, he would be charged with assault. But if he endured the humiliation, they would only push their luck further.
"Young Master Ton," Tran Kien slowly stood up, his voice neither high nor low. "This task, I cannot accomplish alone. But if Young Master wishes me to try, I am willing."
The stifling air seemed to grow even more suffocating due to Ton Hao's mockery. He sneered, assuming Tran Kien was afraid. Sticking his nose in the air, he stepped closer, his pudgy hand already raised, preparing to slap Tran Kien's cheek to "teach him his place."
"Good that you know what's best for you. Your lot in life is to..."
Before his words could finish, and before the slap could fall, that pudgy hand was firmly clamped in mid-air by a gaunt but iron-like hand.
"Ahhh! It hurts! You... you dare!" Ton Hao shrieked miserably, his face turning deathly pale, his wrist bones feeling as though they were about to be crushed.
Tran Kien, his eyes shining brightly, maintained a tranquil expression. He merely utilized a minuscule wrist-rotating technique learned from the stone elephant statue, reflecting all of Ton Hao's force back upon himself. He leaned in close to Ton Hao's ear, his voice as cold as ice. "Young Master Ton, others fear you because of your father's authority. But I, Tran Kien, do not. I merely wish to work in peace; do not push people too far."
Saying this, he lightly released his grip. Ton Hao stumbled and fell unceremoniously into the dirt.
Seeing their master humiliated, the two lackeys roared and charged forward. One swung a fist aiming straight for Tran Kien's face. The other used a sweeping kick. Facing two opponents several times larger than himself, Tran Kien did not retreat a single step. He spun his body lightly, evading the heaven-shaking punch. Simultaneously, he used the tip of his toe to tap lightly on the sweeping lackey's ankle.
Crack!
The second lackey howled in agony and rolled on the ground. At that very moment, the first lackey had spun around, intending to launch a second strike. Tran Kien took a step forward, his nimble body closing the distance in a flash. His hand lightly rested upon the lackey's chest; at a glance, it looked like a gentle pat.
Thump!
A muffled sound rang out. The burly lackey's eyes widened round, his entire body flying backward like a sandbag, crashing down upon Ton Hao who had just scrambled back up.
The entire mining area sank into a deathly silence. Everyone was dumbfounded. A scrawny youth, in the span of a few breaths of time, had cleanly dispatched three burly men. Tran Kien brushed off his hands, not even sparing them a single glance. He knew this Fallen Leaf Town was no longer a safe place for him.
Right at that moment, on the main road in the distance, a merchant caravan with over a dozen large horse-drawn carriages was coming to a halt. The leader of the caravan, a middle-aged man wearing brocade robes, tall in stature, with eyes as sharp as an eagle's, had witnessed the entire sequence of events. He lightly stroked his beard, unable to conceal the astonishment and interest in his eyes.
"There are no spiritual energy fluctuations, yet his inner force can pierce through. Is this... is this the legendary Path of Body Refining? The cultivation path of the Lac Viet people that has been nearly lost to legacy..." The middle-aged man muttered to himself. He then turned and signaled to a trusted guard. "Go investigate that boy. On this trip to Thanh Prefecture, perhaps we have picked up a precious piece of unpolished jade."