Lin Feng's fourth day at the Beggars' Sect began with pain—specifically, the full-body ache that comes from exercising muscles previously unaware of their own existence. He awoke before dawn, his limbs protesting even the simple act of sitting up.
"I feel like I've been trampled by the Imperial cavalry," he groaned, gingerly stretching his arms. "Twice."
"Meridian opening is always worst the next day," Crooked Yang observed sympathetically from his nearby mat. "The elders say it's the body rebuilding itself stronger."
"The elders say a lot of things," Lin Feng replied, wincing as he stood. "Most of which seem designed to make horrible experiences sound spiritually significant."
Nevertheless, he made his way to the small courtyard where Lao Wei awaited, the older beggar sitting cross-legged beside the now-familiar earthen jar, eyes closed in meditation.
"You're not as late as I expected," Lao Wei observed without opening his eyes.
"I considered crawling here to properly express my physical distress," Lin Feng replied, "but decided it lacked dignity."
"Dignity is overrated," Lao Wei said, finally looking up with amusement. "Especially for beggars."
"So I'm discovering." Lin Feng lowered himself to the ground with the careful movements of an elderly man. "Please tell me today's training involves lying motionless while visualizing the concept of energy."
"Not quite." Lao Wei produced a small cloth bag and emptied its contents between them—a dozen river stones of various sizes and colors. "Today you'll learn to sense the differences in natural qi."
Lin Feng eyed the collection with suspicion. "These all look like ordinary rocks that might have been gathered from any riverbed in the province."
"Precisely," Lao Wei nodded approvingly. "Yet each contains a different qi signature based on its composition, age, and history. Close your eyes and select one."
With a skeptical sigh, Lin Feng complied, running his fingers over the stones until one seemed to catch his attention. He picked it up, a smooth gray specimen with a faint white line running through it.
"Good," Lao Wei said. "Now, using the awareness you developed yesterday, try to sense the stone's energy. Don't just feel its surface—reach deeper."
Lin Feng closed his eyes again, focusing his attention on the stone as he had with the coin. At first, he sensed only the cool, solid presence in his palm. Then, gradually, something more—a faint vibration, a subtle resistance, like the stone was holding its breath.
"It feels... closed," he said hesitantly. "Like it's keeping secrets."
"Interesting description," Lao Wei mused. "That particular stone comes from the northern mountains where the rock has been compressed under tremendous pressure. Its qi is indeed tightly contained." He selected another stone, this one reddish-brown with tiny sparkling specks. "Try this one."
Lin Feng exchanged stones and immediately noticed the difference. Where the gray stone had felt reserved, this one pulsed with a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.
"It's... excited," he said, struggling to find words for the sensation. "Almost agitated, like it can't sit still."
"Iron content," Lao Wei explained. "Creates a more active energy. Now try this one." He handed over a third stone, black and unusually heavy.
Lin Feng's eyebrows shot up as soon as the stone touched his skin. "This one's powerful," he said. "Like it's humming with energy."
"Very good," Lao Wei looked pleased. "Most initiates need weeks to distinguish such subtle differences. You have a natural sensitivity."
"Lucky me," Lin Feng replied dryly. "I've always wanted to be exceptionally receptive to the emotional states of rocks."
Lao Wei ignored the sarcasm. "This sensitivity is the foundation of the Vagrant Cloud Path. Once you can accurately read the qi in objects, you can learn to influence it, redirect it, and eventually absorb it."
"Absorb it?" Lin Feng's interest sharpened. "You mean take energy from objects and use it myself?"
"In essence, yes," Lao Wei confirmed. "Though it's more complicated than simply draining energy like drinking water from a cup. Different energies serve different purposes."
For the next hour, Lao Wei had Lin Feng sort the stones based solely on their qi signatures, blindfolded to ensure he wasn't using visual cues. To his surprise, Lin Feng found the task engrossing—each stone told a different story through its energy, revealing aspects of its formation and history that would be invisible to ordinary senses.
"Remarkable," Lao Wei murmured as Lin Feng correctly identified a stone he had mischievously slipped in from a different batch. "You're progressing faster than anyone I've trained in decades."
"I've always been a quick study," Lin Feng shrugged, removing the blindfold. "Necessity tends to sharpen learning."
"Indeed." Lao Wei gathered the stones, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps we can accelerate your training."
"Accelerate to what, exactly?" Lin Feng asked. "You've been deliberately vague about where all this rock-feeling is leading."
Lao Wei seemed to debate with himself before answering. "The Vagrant Cloud Path has three major stages. The first is Perception—learning to sense qi in all its forms. The second is Manipulation—influencing qi outside yourself. The third is Integration—bringing external qi into harmony with your own."
"And I'm still at the 'fondling rocks blindfolded' phase of Perception, I take it?"
"You're progressing through Perception faster than expected," Lao Wei corrected. "Most initiates spend a year or more at this stage. You might be ready for basic Manipulation techniques within months."
Lin Feng absorbed this information with mixed feelings. On one hand, accelerated progress meant greater power sooner. On the other hand, drawing attention was dangerous in an environment where jealousy and competition were rampant.
"What's the rush?" he asked casually. "Are you entering me in some sort of cultivation talent competition? 'Most Promising Beggar' perhaps?"
Lao Wei's expression remained unreadable. "Let's just say there are... timelines that make your rapid advancement fortuitous."
"That's cryptically ominous," Lin Feng observed. "Care to elaborate?"
"Not at this stage," Lao Wei replied, rising to his feet. "For now, focus on developing your sensitivity. We'll continue with more complex materials tomorrow."
As they returned to the main compound for the morning meal, Lin Feng noticed an unusual level of activity. Disciples hurried about with purpose, and even the elders seemed more animated than usual.
"What's happening?" he asked as they entered the dining hall.
"Ah," Lao Wei said, "today is Challenge Day."
"That sounds deliberately capitalized and ominous."
"Once each month, disciples may formally challenge others of the same rank or one rank higher for position and privileges," Lao Wei explained. "It's tradition."
"Let me guess," Lin Feng sighed. "Stone Fist is planning to challenge me to reclaim his wounded pride in public."
"Actually, challenges must be issued before dawn and posted on the central board," Lao Wei said, gesturing to where a crowd had gathered around a wooden noticeboard. "Let's see if you feature."
They approached the board, Lin Feng's stomach sinking as he noted the curious and occasionally sympathetic glances thrown his way. Sure enough, the day's challenges were listed in large, bold characters:
*Third Watch:*
*Stone Fist (Initiate) challenges Lin Feng (Initiate) for disrespect and special treatment*
*Combat Trial: Three Strikes*
"Well, that's direct," Lin Feng remarked, maintaining a casual tone despite his internal concern. "What exactly is a 'Three Strikes' trial?"
"Combatants face off in the central ring," Lao Wei explained. "First to land three solid strikes on their opponent wins. No weapons, no targeting vital points."
"Sounds straightforward enough," Lin Feng mused. "Except for the minor detail that Stone Fist is twice my size and apparently related to someone called 'Iron Palm.'"
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"Size isn't everything in cultivation combat," Lao Wei said. "Skill and qi utilization often prevail over brute strength."
"That would be more comforting if I had more than three days of cultivation training," Lin Feng pointed out. "Somehow I doubt my expertise in rock-feeling will be particularly helpful when Stone Fist is trying to rearrange my facial features."
Lao Wei's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps we should modify this morning's training plan."
---
An hour later, Lin Feng found himself in a secluded corner of the compound, facing Lao Wei in what appeared to be a combat stance. His earlier muscle pain had been temporarily forgotten in the face of more urgent concerns—namely, avoiding a public beating.
"The Three Strikes format favors precision over power," Lao Wei explained, demonstrating a simple blocking motion. "You don't need to overpower Stone Fist—you just need to tag him three times while avoiding his attacks."
"Easier said than done," Lin Feng muttered, mimicking the movement. "He's been training here for months. I barely know how to stand properly."
"Which is why we'll focus on your advantages rather than your disadvantages," Lao Wei countered. "What are your strengths?"
Lin Feng considered the question. "I'm faster than I look. Good at reading people's intentions. Experienced at avoiding being hit."
"Excellent start," Lao Wei nodded. "And what have you learned in your training so far?"
"That rocks have feelings and meridians hurt when you stretch them?"
"You've learned to sense qi," Lao Wei corrected patiently. "And with qi sensitivity comes the ability to anticipate movement."
"How exactly does that work?"
Instead of answering, Lao Wei suddenly thrust a fist toward Lin Feng's face—not fast enough to actually hit him, but quick enough to startle. Lin Feng jerked backward, narrowly avoiding contact.
"You saw my movement and reacted," Lao Wei observed. "Normal reflex. Now, close your eyes."
Lin Feng complied skeptically.
"Focus on sensing my qi, just as you did with the stones," Lao Wei instructed. "Tell me when you feel a change."
Lin Feng concentrated, attempting to perceive the older beggar's energy. It was more difficult than with inanimate objects—Lao Wei's qi was complex, fluid, constantly shifting in subtle ways.
"There!" Lin Feng suddenly said, feeling a distinct surge of energy.
He opened his eyes just in time to see Lao Wei's fist stopping inches from his shoulder, exactly where the energy shift had been most noticeable.
"You sensed my intention before I moved," Lao Wei explained. "Qi shifts before physical action—it's the energy preparing to express itself through movement."
"So I can potentially sense attacks before they happen?" Lin Feng asked, intrigued despite his skepticism.
"With practice, yes," Lao Wei confirmed. "It won't make you invincible—a skilled opponent can mask their intentions—but against someone like Stone Fist who broadcasts his movements..."
"It might give me an edge," Lin Feng finished, a glimmer of hope taking root. "Teach me."
For the next several hours, they practiced. Lao Wei would attack from various angles, sometimes telegraphing his intentions, sometimes masking them. Lin Feng learned to distinguish between genuine attacks and feints by the quality of qi preceding the movement.
By midday, he could consistently sense incoming strikes with his eyes closed, though his reactions weren't always fast enough to avoid them completely.
"You're improving quickly," Lao Wei noted as they paused for rest. "But sensing is only half the challenge. You still need to land three strikes of your own."
"I was thinking about that," Lin Feng said, taking a long drink of water. "Stone Fist expects me to be defensive—to avoid his attacks and look for openings. What if I do the opposite?"
"Attack immediately?" Lao Wei raised an eyebrow. "Bold, but risky against a stronger opponent."
"Not just attack," Lin Feng clarified. "Provoke. Stone Fist's biggest weakness is his temper. If I can make him angry enough, he'll get sloppy."
"A psychological strategy," Lao Wei mused. "It has merit, though it requires precise timing."
"Timing and a talent for irritating people," Lin Feng agreed with a grin. "Fortunately, the latter is one of my most refined skills."
They spent the rest of the training session developing Lin Feng's offensive capabilities—not power strikes, but quick, precise taps that would count as scoring hits while requiring minimal strength. By the time the third watch approached, Lin Feng had a strategy that, while not guaranteed, at least gave him a fighting chance.
"Remember," Lao Wei advised as they headed toward the central courtyard where challenges were conducted, "qi follows intention. Be clear in your mind about what you want to accomplish, and your energy will align accordingly."
"My intention is to not get pummeled into the ground," Lin Feng replied dryly. "Hopefully my qi is on board with that plan."
The central courtyard was already crowded when they arrived. It seemed the entire sect had turned out to watch the challenges, with Lin Feng's match drawing particular interest as it involved the newest initiate. A circular area had been marked with white stones, creating an arena about twenty paces across.
Stone Fist was already waiting, stripped to the waist to display his impressive musculature. Beside him stood an older disciple—presumably the cousin Little Rat had mentioned—giving last-minute advice.
"Your opponent looks confident," Lao Wei observed.
"Confident is just another word for predictable in this context," Lin Feng replied, though his casual tone couldn't entirely hide his nerves. "Any last words of wisdom before I enter the circle of probable pain?"
Lao Wei considered for a moment. "The Vagrant Cloud Path teaches that emptiness is strength. In combat, this means keeping your mind clear of fear and anticipation. React to what is, not what you expect or dread."
"Poetic and vague, as always," Lin Feng sighed. "I'll try to remember that while dodging Stone Fist's meaty fists."
A gong sounded, and the elder who had overseen the bowl-balancing competition stepped forward.
"Challenges are the Beggars' Sect's way of resolving conflicts and establishing merit," he announced to the crowd. "Today's first match: Stone Fist challenges Lin Feng on grounds of disrespect and favoritism. The format is Three Strikes—first to land three clean hits wins."
The elder gestured for both combatants to enter the circle. Lin Feng stepped forward, acutely aware of how much smaller he appeared next to Stone Fist's imposing build.
"I'm going to enjoy this," Stone Fist growled, loud enough for only Lin Feng to hear. "No tricks will save you today."
"Fascinating prediction," Lin Feng replied with a deliberately casual smile. "Though I notice your pants are tied extra tight today. Learning from past mistakes?"
Stone Fist's expression darkened, exactly as Lin Feng had hoped. The elder raised his hand, then dropped it sharply.
"Begin!"
Stone Fist immediately charged forward with a roar, exactly as expected. Lin Feng, rather than dodging, stepped directly toward his opponent—a move so unexpected that Stone Fist actually hesitated for a split second.
That hesitation was all Lin Feng needed. Darting inside Stone Fist's reach, he delivered a quick tap to the larger boy's chest before dancing away.
"First strike to Lin Feng!" the elder announced, sounding surprised.
The crowd murmured in appreciation. Stone Fist looked momentarily stunned before his face contorted with rage.
"Lucky hit," he snarled, circling more cautiously now.
"Luck, skill, divine intervention—the point counts regardless," Lin Feng shrugged, maintaining a relaxed posture designed to further irritate his opponent. "Though I must say, you move remarkably well for someone who spent yesterday swimming in a well."
The taunt had its intended effect. Stone Fist lunged forward again, throwing a powerful but telegraphed punch. Lin Feng, focusing on the qi shifts as Lao Wei had taught him, sensed the attack coming and pivoted to the side. As Stone Fist's momentum carried him forward, Lin Feng delivered another quick tap, this time to his opponent's back.
"Second strike to Lin Feng!" the elder called, genuine astonishment in his voice.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder. Lin Feng caught sight of Crooked Yang and Little Rat watching wide-eyed from the front row, while Lao Wei observed with an inscrutable expression.
Stone Fist turned, his face now purple with fury and embarrassment. His cousin called something from the sidelines—advice to calm down, judging by the gestures—but Stone Fist was beyond listening.
"No more games," he growled, settling into a more disciplined stance. "You got lucky twice. It won't happen again."
Lin Feng recognized the danger immediately. An enraged opponent was predictable; a focused one was dangerous. He needed to provoke Stone Fist back into mindless anger before the larger boy could bring his superior training to bear.
"Twice isn't luck," Lin Feng replied loudly enough for everyone to hear. "It's a pattern. But I understand your confusion—counting past one must be challenging for someone who thinks with their fists."
Titters of laughter rippled through the crowd. Stone Fist's jaw clenched, his tenuous control visibly slipping.
"You talk too much," he snarled, advancing more methodically now.
Lin Feng backed away, maintaining distance while continuing his psychological assault. "Talking is just one of many skills I possess that you don't. Along with bathing regularly and winning competitions."
That did it. With a bellow of rage, Stone Fist abandoned all pretense of strategy and charged like a maddened bull. Lin Feng, anticipating the rush, waited until the last possible moment before attempting to sidestep.
But Stone Fist had learned from his previous failures. Instead of continuing forward, he pivoted suddenly, catching Lin Feng with a glancing blow to the shoulder. The impact sent Lin Feng stumbling backward, though he managed to keep his feet.
"First strike to Stone Fist!" the elder announced.
The larger boy grinned triumphantly, advancing with renewed confidence. Lin Feng, his shoulder throbbing, reassessed his strategy. The direct provocations were becoming less effective as Stone Fist adapted.
Time for a different approach.
As Stone Fist closed in, Lin Feng suddenly clutched his ribcage and winced, as if nursing an injury. Stone Fist's eyes lit up at the perceived weakness, and he aimed his next attack at Lin Feng's supposedly vulnerable side.
It was exactly what Lin Feng had anticipated. As Stone Fist committed to the strike, Lin Feng dropped to one knee, ducking under the attack, then sprang upward with his palm outstretched. His hand connected solidly with Stone Fist's chin in a perfectly placed tap.
"Third strike to Lin Feng! Match concluded!" the elder declared, sounding as shocked as anyone.
A moment of stunned silence fell over the courtyard, followed by an eruption of cheers and exclamations. Stone Fist stood frozen in disbelief, while Lin Feng tried not to let his own surprise show on his face.
He had won. Against all odds, against an opponent with more size, strength, and training, he had emerged victorious through quick thinking and psychological manipulation.
The elder raised Lin Feng's hand officially. "The challenge is resolved in favor of Lin Feng. By sect tradition, the winner may claim a reasonable privilege from the defeated."
This was an aspect of the challenges Lin Feng hadn't been aware of. He glanced at Lao Wei, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Stone Fist's expression had shifted from shock to sullen resentment. His cousin watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, his calculating gaze fixed on Lin Feng.
Lin Feng considered his options carefully. He could humiliate Stone Fist further by demanding some degrading service, but that would only deepen the enmity. Alternatively, he could decline any privilege, appearing magnanimous but potentially weak.
Neither option served his long-term interests.
"My privilege is simple," Lin Feng announced clearly. "Stone Fist will teach three of his best combat techniques to my friends Crooked Yang and Little Rat, who helped fish him out of the well yesterday morning."
This strategic choice accomplished multiple goals at once: it acknowledged Stone Fist's superior combat training (soothing his wounded pride), it benefited Lin Feng's allies rather than himself (appearing selfless), and it forced Stone Fist to interact positively with Lin Feng's friends (potentially reducing future conflict).
The crowd murmured appreciatively at this unexpected request. Even the elder nodded approval. Stone Fist himself looked momentarily confused, clearly having expected either humiliation or mercy, not this pragmatic middle path.
"A wise choice," the elder proclaimed. "Stone Fist, do you accept this obligation?"
After a moment's hesitation and a glance at his cousin, who gave a slight nod, Stone Fist bowed stiffly. "I accept."
"Then the matter is settled," the elder concluded. "Next challenge!"
As Lin Feng stepped out of the circle, Lao Wei appeared at his side. "Impressive strategy, both in combat and aftermath."
"The best victory leaves your opponent confused rather than vengeful," Lin Feng replied quietly. "Besides, Crooked Yang and Little Rat could use the training, and it gives Stone Fist a chance to save face by demonstrating his superior knowledge."
"You continue to surprise me, little philosopher," Lao Wei said with genuine approval. "Most in your position would have chosen either vengeance or magnanimity. You chose utility."
Lin Feng shrugged, wincing slightly as his bruised shoulder protested. "Three years on the streets teaches you that grudges are expensive luxuries. Better to turn enemies into reluctant assets when possible."
As they spoke, Stone Fist's cousin approached, his expression neutral but assessing. Up close, Lin Feng could see the family resemblance—the same square jaw and heavy brow, though the older disciple's eyes held a cunning that Stone Fist lacked.
"Iron Palm Chen," he introduced himself with a slight bow. "An unexpected outcome, Initiate Lin Feng."
"The unexpected keeps life interesting," Lin Feng replied cautiously, returning the bow.
"Indeed." Iron Palm studied him with unnerving intensity. "My cousin underestimated you. I will not make the same mistake."
"Is that a threat or a compliment?" Lin Feng asked, maintaining a polite tone despite the implied menace.
"An observation," Iron Palm replied. "Talent draws attention in the Beggars' Sect—not all of it welcome. Be mindful of your rise." With a meaningful look at Lao Wei, he turned and walked away.
"I believe I've been officially noticed by the sect's internal politics," Lin Feng observed dryly once Iron Palm was out of earshot.
"An inevitable consequence of your performance," Lao Wei sighed. "Though I had hoped for a few more weeks of quiet development before the factions took interest."
"Factions? That sounds ominously plural."
"The Beggars' Sect, like any organization with power and tradition, has different views on its purpose and direction," Lao Wei explained. "Some advocate for greater integration with conventional society, others for maintaining our outsider status. Some focus on martial development, others on spiritual cultivation."
"And where do you stand in this fascinating web of sectarian politics?" Lin Feng asked.
Lao Wei's expression turned guarded. "I have my perspectives, but now is not the time to burden you with them. For today, enjoy your victory and rest. Your training intensifies tomorrow."
As Lao Wei departed, Crooked Yang and Little Rat rushed over, their faces alight with excitement.
"That was amazing!" Crooked Yang exclaimed. "How did you learn to fight like that in just one morning?"
"I didn't," Lin Feng admitted. "I learned to avoid fighting and to land precise touches instead. Completely different skill set."
"And you got Stone Fist to teach us techniques," Little Rat added with a gap-toothed grin. "He looked like he was swallowing a toad when you announced that."
"Strategic charity," Lin Feng explained. "You two get training, Stone Fist gets to demonstrate superiority, and I get to appear generous while actually benefiting my friends. Everyone wins."
"Except Stone Fist's pride," Crooked Yang laughed.
"Pride recovers faster than resentment fades," Lin Feng replied. "Trust me, this outcome is better for everyone than if I'd tried to humiliate him further."
As they walked toward the dining hall for the midday meal, Lin Feng found himself the center of attention—initiates and disciples alike watching him with new interest. Some gazes were admiring, others calculating, a few openly hostile.
His victory, while satisfying, had accelerated his visibility within the sect. He had wanted to matter, to be more than just another street orphan struggling to survive. Now he had his wish, for better or worse.
The simple path of the nameless initiate was no longer an option. Whatever hidden currents ran through the Beggars' Sect, Lin Feng had just dropped himself into their depths. Now he would need to learn to swim—or risk drowning in the very opportunity he had sought.
As Lao Wei had cryptically suggested, timelines were accelerating. Lin Feng just wished he knew what exactly was rushing toward him, and whether he would be ready when it arrived.