Iron Mountain Strength.

"You want me to teach you to read and write in your spare time?" 

Master Liu stroked his beard, his tone revealing no emotion. 

"Yes, sir. I want to learn as many characters as possible in the shortest time, at least enough to read and write. This is my tuition fee." 

Zhong Lin spoke solemnly. 

Master Liu had initially intended to scold Zhong Lin, but the sight of a five-tael silver ingot on the table made him swallow his words. 

It turns out that money can solve 99% of problems in this world. The remaining 1% is because there isn't enough money. 

"Since you are so eager to learn, I will agree. You may come to see me every afternoon." 

"Yes, sir." 

Master Liu casually waved his hand over the table. With a light touch, as if it were nothing, the silver ingot disappeared without a trace. 

During his morning literacy lessons, Zhong Lin made an interesting discovery. His max-level calligraphy skills provided an incredible boost to his ability to recognize characters. 

The written language of this world was similar to Chinese—also a pictographic script. With his mastery of calligraphy, Zhong Lin could analyze the strokes and structure of each character far more effectively than through rote memorization. 

In terms of memory techniques, understanding was far superior to mere memorization. 

With this method, he could recognize not just ten characters in a day but even a hundred. 

He also had plenty of free time. As a painter for the county office, not a constable, he only needed to report in every morning. Technically, he was required to stay in the yamen, but since no one monitored him, he had the perfect opportunity to slack off and study. 

However, he knew this situation wouldn't last forever, so he had to learn as quickly as possible. 

— 

"Brother Zhong, this is Old Zhou. He's been in the yamen for years. Almost every constable here has learned martial arts from him—even Head Constable Xue once sought his guidance." 

Chi Yan pointed to a grizzled constable in black uniform, his voice full of respect. 

The man called Old Zhou looked to be in his fifties, with gray streaks in his hair, but his posture was impressively straight, and his sharp eyes were full of vigor. 

Although the county yamen had martial arts manuals, simply studying from a book would take ages to produce results. The best approach was to find someone who could teach in person. 

So Zhong Lin had asked Chi Yan to help him find a teacher. 

Old Zhou was the one Chi Yan had recommended. 

He was still a constable, but due to his age, he no longer took part in arrests. Instead, he handled miscellaneous duties within the yamen. 

"Old Zhou is only at the ninth rank, 'Refined Skin' stage, but he has spent years mastering the 'Flying Crane Fist.' As your martial arts mentor, he's more than qualified." 

Zhong Lin did not dare to be careless. He clasped his hands in greeting. 

"Zhong Lin greets master Zhou. This is a small token of appreciation, nothing grand." 

Old Zhou waved a hand dismissively, smiling. 

"No need for formalities. Just call me Old Zhou. We're all colleagues here. There's no need for gifts." 

"Are you sure, master Zhou? This is a jar of twenty-year-old Hua Diao wine from Baishan Restaurant. This single jar cost five taels of silver." 

Chi Yan chuckled mischievously. 

As soon as he finished speaking, Old Zhou's eyes locked onto the wine jar in Zhong Lin's hands, glowing with desire. His throat bobbed as he swallowed a mouthful of saliva. 

"This is far too extravagant! But… I won't say no!" 

Without hesitation, he grabbed the jar, pried off the sealing mud, took a deep sniff, and sighed in satisfaction. 

"This is definitely Baishan Restaurant's Zui Hua Diao. Good wine! Excellent wine!" 

"I'm glad you like it, master Zhou." 

"I told you—just call me Old Zhou! Now, let me check your bones." 

"Bone examination?" 

Zhong Lin's excitement surged. Could he be a rare martial arts prodigy? 

Old Zhou could tell exactly what Zhong Lin was thinking and laughed. 

"I'm checking your bones, not your innate talent. I'm assessing your skeletal structure to see what kind of martial arts would suit you best." 

With that, he grabbed Zhong Lin's arm and pressed along his wrist bones, shoulders, hips, and spine. 

After a moment, he nodded in appreciation. 

"Zhong Lin, your bone structure is excellent! Broad shoulders, a tapered waist—strong and well-proportioned. You've just been malnourished in the past and didn't develop fully. How old are you?" 

"Fifteen, almost sixteen." 

"That's good. You can still recover. Eat more meat and get a physician to prescribe some tonics. You'll grow taller—at least six feet, I'd say." 

"What martial art do you think suits me best, Old Zhou?" 

The county yamen's martial arts library contained thirteen complete manuals, each focusing on different strengths. The strongest technique wasn't necessarily the best; the most suitable one was. 

Old Zhou smiled. 

"With your build, you're best suited for raw power. 'Iron Mountain Strength' would be perfect for you." 

"'Iron Mountain Strength'? That's the martial art Head Constable Xue trained in! His iron fists are unbeatable in all of Heishan County! I can't believe Brother Zhong is suited for it as well!" 

Chi Yan was visibly surprised. 

Old Zhou nodded. 

"'Light as a willow, deep as the wind. The old ape crosses the sun, lifting me high.' This technique is all about overwhelming force—crushing power. Zhong Lin, can you read?" 

"I know some characters but not all. I'm currently studying with Master Liu in the south of the city." 

"Good. Learning to read is important. The manuals contain key mantras—once you can read, you should memorize them and ponder their meaning. For now, you can just start practicing the movements. 

"I trained in this technique when I was younger. Come, I'll teach you." 

Old Zhou took off his outer robe, revealing a body that, though aged, was still packed with muscle. He raised his arms and assumed a firm stance. 

"The purpose of practicing movements is to circulate your inner vitality. The faster your vitality flows, the stronger your physical refinement becomes. 

"The ninth, eighth, and seventh ranks of the martial path all focus on tempering the body. Different styles just emphasize different aspects. For example, my 'Flying Crane Fist' is about agility, movement, and positioning." 

Old Zhou demonstrated move after move, starting with simple punches and kicks, gradually increasing in complexity. Toward the end, his techniques included airborne flips and other high-difficulty maneuvers. 

After about seven or eight minutes, he finally finished. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. 

"Getting old, huh?" 

Once he had caught his breath, he began guiding Zhong Lin through the practice. 

At first, Zhong Lin's movements were stiff and awkward, often stopping midway. The advanced techniques, in particular, were impossible for him to execute. 

Gradually, he imitated the forms more accurately, barely managing to complete one full sequence. By then, a whole hour had passed. 

"Alright, that's enough for today. Time to go home." 

Zhong Lin wiped his own sweat and cupped his hands. 

"Thank you, Old Zhou." 

Old Zhou waved a hand and left, wine jar in tow. 

Chi Yan stood up from his chair and spoke before Zhong Lin could. 

"Brother Zhong, do you have any silver on you? Lend me three taels—I need it for something urgent." 

Zhong Lin hesitated for a moment but still pulled out three taels of silver and handed them over. 

"Much appreciated."