Chapter Forty-Six: The Family Martial Arts Hall, the True Legacy Footwork!

The next morning, Bai Xuan crossed the island and, following the address Bai Xuanji had given him, arrived before a spacious courtyard nestled in the bustling heart of the town—a property surrounded by other assets of the Bai family.

He knocked at the door, and two sturdy men pulled it open. At a glance, they saw Bai Xuan flip his palm to reveal a token, neither jade nor stone, at which point they silently let him inside.

“What a vast courtyard,” Bai Xuan murmured to himself, noticing a dozen or so young men within, some paired off to practice, others hoisting great stones single-handedly in feats of strength.

“You must be Bai Xuan,” a sharp-looking young man with close-cropped hair greeted him. “I am Bai Tianyuan, a close friend of Tiannian, your cousin. I’ve heard much about you.”

“That’s right. May I ask about this martial hall…” Bai Xuan began, finding the atmosphere more informal than he had expected.

“Wait a bit. Great-Uncle Bai Ehou will be here soon. He runs this dojo himself. Unless you are outstanding, the young men of the family rarely get the chance to learn here—most people aren’t allowed in,” Bai Tianyuan explained.

A short while later, an elderly man, small and thin, emerged, coming to stand at the front of the courtyard.

“All day you practice, but what is it you’re actually training?” The old man’s gaze swept over the young men, his brows knitting, and he spoke at last.

At his words, the trainees fell instantly silent.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the old man’s body seemed to contract. It was as if his entire being shrank, his energy, spirit, and presence drawn deep within, vanishing to the marrow of his bones, leaving no trace.

Yet his spine arched like a drawn bow, like a tiger coiled in the forest about to spring—his entire strength concentrated in a single, perfect instant.

Boom!

In a flash, the old man vanished from where he stood. His form flickered; the air itself was ripped open by a long wave of force, and a violent gale swept through the courtyard.

In a single bound of ten meters, he landed and shattered a slab of bluestone beneath his grasp, fragments scattering.

With a swift, lightning movement, he withdrew, the air still vibrating, and caught a cloak tossed to him, throwing it over his shoulders.

“I don’t care how the rest of your family teaches—here, the Tiger Pounce Step is the foundation of all martial arts.”

“In a single pounce lies the essence of martial practice. Martial arts is about action; without motion, you’re a corpse.”

“Remember this: if the martial way of vital energy and blood stagnates, it’s finished! When you train, you must imagine—if a thousand arrows are loosed, if swords are flying for your head—what then?”

The old man began at once to impart his lineage’s true stepping technique, wasting no time, entirely direct.

He reclined on a lounge chair beneath the eaves, eyes half-closed, not saying another word. Two disciples attended him, even bringing tea straight to his lips.

“What formidable footwork,” Bai Xuan thought, his gaze sharpening.

He was already skilled in external martial arts, and now, watching this demonstration, he gained a new understanding.

He realized that this was not mere dodging or evasion—the Tiger Pounce Step involved summoning and directing one’s vital energy in a single thought, launching forward with a speed that transcended the ordinary.

Around him, the disciples of the courtyard pondered and practiced the technique. Though it was but a courtyard, it was spacious enough to accommodate a hundred without crowding.

“This Tiger Pounce Step, used in boarding actions at sea, would let a man leap aboard an enemy ship and sweep all before him. And retreat, too, is at one’s command,” Bai Xuan mused, finding a quiet corner to practice in silence.

He was only here because of a recommendation, just a boatswain; the others were mostly older, first mates of their ships, and while he exchanged the occasional greeting, Bai Xuan remained discreet and kept to himself.

As dusk fell, Bai Xuan, after much diligent practice, finally felt he’d made some progress and went out for a meal.

At a restaurant, Bai Xiazhen sighed with concern. “My grandfather has taken to the sea again, commanding the fleet. Lately, the Star Hunters have been burning, killing, and plundering on the waves. They even drive demonic sea fish before them. Many of our ships have been attacked; without a strong leader, there’s no way to resist.”

He, who had once been plump, now looked noticeably thinner from worry.

“Demonic fish?” Bai Xuan, sipping his tea, frowned. He recalled the demon shark, a creature that had left a vivid impression on him—its entire body like forged steel, impervious to ordinary force.

If it were just common demon fish, any skilled martial artist could handle them; why would they need experts to lead the fleet? But if it was a demon shark like those controlled by the Sea God Cult, only a master who had passed the life-and-death threshold could hope to resist. Such a monster required the combined strength of true experts.

“Indeed, several of our whaling ships have been damaged and forced to return for repairs. Even among the Four Great Families, some are wavering. At this rate, the losses will be catastrophic. I hear the Yang family has suggested negotiating terms with the Star Hunters,” Bai Xiazhen said, his face clouded, the taste gone from his wine.

Faced with the threat of the Star Hunters, many were losing heart; the fleets suffered continuous losses, and some began to think that compromise might be preferable.

To compromise with the Star Hunters meant to pay them a yearly tribute, like a tax, in exchange for the right to sail the seas unmolested.

Of all the Four Great Families, the Yangs had lost the least; their distant fishing vessels had suffered little, and rumors abounded that they had already struck some sort of deal with the Star Hunters.

“Compromise…” A sense of crisis welled up in Bai Xuan’s heart.

For the Four Great Families of Qianshan Island, compromise might just mean paying a little more silver each year—a pragmatic choice, weighing losses against survival.

But for Bai Xuan, who still bore a bounty of two thousand taels of silver on his head, he could not afford to be complacent.

After his meal, Bai Xuan hurried home.

As dusk deepened, just as he neared his house, he noticed a group gathered outside the gates of several nearby courtyards—not far from his own. There were a dozen or so people, deep in conversation.

“Some unfamiliar faces,” Bai Xuan thought, scanning them. The island was busy, but his courtyard was in a secluded spot, rarely visited. Strangers here stood out at once.

“Within the Seven Seas, all are brothers—this is not just an empty saying. There is rice, grain, oil, talismans, and elixirs…” The group, all dressed in brown, looked unremarkable except for one—at their center, a man with a thick beard seemed to be the leader, speaking with conviction. An old fisherman’s eyes shone as he nodded, clearly persuaded.

“The Seven Seas Society?” Bai Xuan narrowed his eyes but minded his own business, returning to his courtyard.

He moved with his fists, shadowing his form, his speed astonishing, vital energy surging through his body like a blazing torch. Beneath his skin, azure scales shimmered: deep, tenacious power.

“With the Tiger Pounce Step, my speed has nearly doubled—a true transformation,” Bai Xuan thought as he traversed the courtyard in a single bound of seven or eight meters, leaving only afterimages in his wake.

Through relentless training these past days, he’d made rapid progress; the Tiger Pounce Step was now firmly within his grasp.

It seemed simple—direct, straightforward—but each step contained myriad changes. By channeling all his energy and blood into a single movement, he achieved a unity of power that felt like a door opening to a new realm.

“Not yet perfect; it needs more time to fully fuse with my mastery of the Shark Combat Technique. Then, my speed will rise again.”

“And in these past ten days, I’ve also condensed another particle of my External Training Dao.”

“Bronze Skin, open for me!”

Bai Xuan’s gaze sharpened. He was but a step away from perfection; today, he would achieve mastery.