(The scholarship is almost used up, and my appetite is just too big. After all, I throw five thousand punches every day, and every punch has to be at full strength—only then can I gain experience from it. Otherwise, if even random, half-hearted punches could earn experience, I could easily throw hundreds of thousands a day... Sigh, this is hard labor. My body is already pushed to its limits. If I increase my training any further, I might end up peeing blood. If my body collapses, then I'm really done for. I just hope my buddy's business goes well so he can support me a bit more.)

Henry Harper's figure was quite thin, which was actually rare among martial artists. After all, as the saying goes, "the poor study literature, the rich practice martial arts"—this old adage says it all. To practice martial arts, a material foundation is absolutely necessary. Not to mention anything else, if you have to do heavy manual labor every day but can't even eat any fatty meat, your body would collapse in at most a week—how could you practice martial arts then? Moreover, the internal energy in this world is all generated when the human body is trained to its limits, producing great power from the inside out. If your physical condition is poor, how could you possibly generate internal energy? So, although commoners are not forbidden from practicing martial arts in this world, the number of commoners who actually develop internal energy is probably not one in a hundred thousand, but one in a million or even ten million. Aside from the secret training methods monopolized by noble families, officials, and the wealthy, the biggest difference is that commoners simply don't have the money to support training to the limit.

"Pa!"

A large bowl was slammed down in front of Henry Harper. Although it was slammed, the person who did it had such precise control that not a drop of the meat soup inside spilled out. The whole bowl seemed to stick to the table, not even wobbling. This skill was astonishing, making Henry Harper's eyes narrow in surprise.

Looking more closely, Henry Harper saw a beautiful girl sit down in front of him. It was the long-haired beauty who had just watched him practice in the woods. The girl stared at him, a little annoyed, and said, "I called you just now and you didn't answer. I thought you were up to something, but you just came here to eat? What's wrong with you! You've already mastered a set of boxing techniques, and yet you're still eating this stuff? Where's the meat? The soup? The bones? Don't tell me, at your age, with your hard boxing skills already mastered, you still don't know what a martial artist should eat? Judging by what you're eating, are you planning to let your body fall apart?"

Henry Harper looked at the girl, then at the bowl of meat soup slammed in front of him, and immediately grinned. He wasn't annoyed or embarrassed at all. Instead, he picked up the bowl of meat and bone soup, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one go, gulping it down. Then he chewed up the meat and bones in a few bites and swallowed them straight into his stomach.

Seeing all this, the girl didn't find Henry Harper crude at all. Instead, her eyes showed appreciation—this was the child of a martial family. A thought stirred in her heart, and she couldn't help but say, "I think you have good talent. Why not learn martial arts with me?"

"Huh? Learn martial arts... I thought you meant learn to cook?"

Chapter 4: Debts of Gratitude

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Henry Harper's teasing left the long-haired beauty momentarily at a loss. After a while, she finally said in confusion, "Martial arts is martial arts—what does it have to do with cooking? I do know of a sect that specializes in cooking all kinds of exotic ingredients to absorb their nutrients and strengthen the body, even breaking through to the internal energy level, but that's a rare sect, far away at the edge of the Green Sea. I never learned their methods. I just want to teach you martial arts, that's all."

This, in turn, made Henry Harper feel a bit awkward. This must be the so-called generation gap, he thought to himself. But he quickly adjusted his attitude, cupped his hands, and said, "I am Henry Harper. Thank you, miss, for the meat soup."

"I am Sarah Sutton. Consider this bowl of meat soup a return gift for watching you practice martial arts earlier," Sarah Sutton replied politely, also cupping her hands in greeting.

"That's hardly martial arts," Henry Harper said with a cheerful laugh, eating his steamed bun as he spoke. "It's just some random farmhand moves, nothing special."

But Sarah Sutton replied seriously, "The moves may be ordinary, but the person is not. You just mastered a set of boxing techniques, didn't you? Do you know how many people nowadays can still endure loneliness and master a single skill? Everyone is rushing straight for internal energy, but they don't realize that if they haven't even mastered the basic techniques, how can their bodies possibly be trained to the limit? I've seen thousands like that, and not a single one of them has ever developed internal energy. As the saying goes, 'better to be skilled in one than mediocre in many.' They practice one skill, then move on to another after training a certain body part, and repeat this cycle for decades. At best, they become quasi-internal energy martial artists, able to take on a hundred men, but still just muddling through in this mundane world. Such people aren't worth mentioning. But you're different. Judging by your bone structure and age, you're at most eighteen or nineteen, and you've already mastered a set of boxing techniques. I don't know if you're exceptionally gifted or just incredibly diligent, but I can tell one thing: your temperament is absolutely suited for martial arts. As long as you find the right path, you have a seventy percent chance of developing internal energy! So come learn martial arts with me!"