David Wright cherished this hard-won opportunity immensely, so as soon as the first light of dawn appeared, he got up immediately.

After getting dressed, he quietly pushed open the door.

A familiar voice sounded: “Haotian, have breakfast before you go to the training ground.”

David Wright turned around in surprise—his father was actually standing at the kitchen door, smiling at him.

He instantly understood that although he had gotten up early, his father had risen even earlier and had already prepared breakfast for him.

Nodding heavily, David Wright gulped down a large bowl of meat porridge in one go. That familiar warmth surged up again, slowly spreading throughout his body.

David Wright realized that he had come to enjoy this magical sensation.

“Eat slowly, don’t eat too much, just enough to fill your stomach a little, wait until you come back…” Charles Wright’s words were cut off, because he saw his son swallow all the porridge in the pot in one breath.

He figured the boy probably hadn’t listened to a word he said.

“Dad, I’m off.”

“Mm.” Charles Wright nodded slowly and said, “Do your best.”

“Yes.”

David Wright ran out of the house happily, heading toward the training ground.

Charles Wright glanced at the now-empty large bowl, smacked his lips a couple of times, and thought to himself, this kid sure has a big appetite—could it be that getting injured actually increases one’s appetite and helps with growth?

But then, recalling David Wright’s bloody wound from that day, his heart twinged with pain. This kind of “growth” was better avoided.

In the early morning mountain forest, birdsong was clear and fresh, and a breeze brought the scent of leaves. The morning mist had not yet lifted, and the moisture of Xionglang Mountain was heavy, the white fog roughly outlining the distant mountains.

David Wright shrank his neck, shivering from the morning chill.

However, the heat in his heart soon surged forth, and he no longer felt cold.

When he arrived at the training ground in just a few quick steps, nearly all the men of the village were already there. Some were swinging stone weights, some practicing with weapons, others drawing bows and nocking arrows—a scene of bustling activity.

“Haotian, you’re here too? That’s rare.”

Someone spotted him and teased him good-naturedly.

In Dalin Village, the The Wright Family father and son were always an exception—they were the only family that didn’t participate in this morning training. But this didn’t affect their standing in the village at all.

The craftsmanship of Dalin Village’s The Wright Carpenter not only brought comfort to his own family, but also benefited the neighbors greatly. The quality of the village’s hunting bows and weapons was said to be the best among villages for dozens of miles around—all thanks to Charles Wright’s handiwork.

David Wright smiled awkwardly, his eyes darting around, and soon spotted Jason Clark in a corner of the training ground, instructing William Clark and Thomas Miller in martial arts.

The two youths moved with vigor and energy as they practiced their punches and kicks. Though they couldn’t yet match true martial artists in strength, their movements were crisp and swift, already showing impressive form.

Although David Wright had spent years with his two playmates, it was the first time he’d seen them train so seriously.

At this moment, there was a faint aura about them—a result of their dedication and hard work. David Wright seemed to understand a little why the village chief had agreed to let the thirteen-year-old Thomas Miller join the mountain hunt.

Approaching them, David Wright murmured, “Village Chief, I’m late.”

Jason Clark smiled slightly and said, “It’s not easy for you to get up this early for the first time. But if you truly want to learn martial arts, you’ll have to come even earlier from now on.”

David Wright agreed loudly, standing up straight. In that moment, the morning chill could no longer affect him at all.

Jason Clark nodded in satisfaction, but his expression turned serious: “Haotian, William and Thomas Miller are learning internal martial arts. In our village, only four people have the talent to practice it. I saw your performance yesterday—it was good, but that doesn’t mean you definitely have the talent for internal martial arts.” He paused, giving David Wright time to digest this, then continued, “Today I’ll teach you a set of fist techniques and the horse stance. Tomorrow we’ll go hunting in the mountains. When we return, I’ll check your progress. If I’m not satisfied, you won’t need to learn from me anymore. Otherwise, continuing would do you more harm than good.”

A chill ran through David Wright’s heart. He replied in a clear voice, “Yes, Village Chief.”

Jason Clark clapped his hands, and William Clark and Thomas Miller, who were practicing their forms, stopped almost simultaneously.

They held their poses from that moment, motionless in the cold morning wind.

A strange light flashed in David Wright’s eyes. At that moment, William Clark happened to be in a “golden rooster stands on one leg” pose—one foot on the ground, the other raised, one fist extended, the other guarding his chest.

This stance was extremely difficult to hold steady, but William Clark managed it with the stability of an old tree with deep roots.

His clothes fluttered lightly in the wind, but he himself didn’t move at all, like a wooden or clay statue—not even blinking.