William Foster’s fists moved as swiftly as the wind, his footwork shifting and changing, the intent of his boxing carrying the wildness and freedom of a raging bull. He was now completely immersed in this set of basic boxing techniques from the Great Zhou army, silently attuning his mind to the primordial energy between heaven and earth.

  “Fourth form: Bull’s Horn Thrust!”

  “Fifth form: Bull’s Roar!”

  William Foster executed two more moves of the Bull Fist in quick succession, having completely forgotten about the Zilong Garden, the pavilion, and even his elder brother watching nearby.

  “My little brother’s talent is truly impressive, to reach such a state of selflessness so quickly. Perhaps, this incident is actually a blessing in disguise. With this duel ahead, my little brother will surely train even harder from now on! With his aptitude, he will surely shine in the military in the future. With the three of us in the Great Zhou army, we’ll no longer have to worry about those people from the Pingding Marquis’s faction.”

  John Foster nodded to himself as he watched, then, not wanting to disturb William Foster, quietly left the Zilong Garden. At the same time, he gave orders to the marquis’s residence, instructing all servants and maids to take a detour and not disturb William Foster in the garden.

  “Bull’s Iron Stomp!”

  “Bull’s Tail Whip!”

  William Foster practiced the boxing forms over and over again, losing track of how long he had been at it. Beads of sweat had long formed on his forehead, and his back was soaked through, yet William Foster remained oblivious.

  Human stamina is ultimately limited. Several times, William Foster felt utterly exhausted, on the verge of collapsing to the ground, but he gritted his teeth and persevered.

  “Practice, practice! Father once said, in the martial path, what matters most is willpower and conviction—talent comes second. If I want to possess great strength and change my fate, if I can’t even endure this bit of hardship, what right do I have to dream of changing my destiny in the future!”

  William Foster clenched his teeth, recalling the Confucian sage’s words he had memorized: “When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it must first distress their mind, tire their muscles and bones, starve their body, impoverish their life, and frustrate their endeavors, to strengthen what they cannot do.” With this in mind, he gritted his teeth and pushed through once more.

  The martial path is all about tempering oneself; with each trial, one’s martial skills advance a step. A martial arts master must first be a person of indomitable will. William Foster, born into a martial family, was long familiar with these martial aphorisms.

  Steeling his resolve, William Foster focused all his attention on the Bull Fist techniques, refusing to think about the aches and pains in his body. As a result, the feeling of exhaustion was indeed not as overwhelming.

  “Bull’s Charge!” William Foster’s fists whipped up a fierce wind, the sound like a whip cracking through the air, producing sharp snapping noises.

  “Bang!”

  William Foster’s fists struck out, and two blasts of air exploded from beneath his fists, producing a thunderous sound.

  “No, this Bull’s Charge move—I can’t capture the essence that big brother has. Something must be wrong.” William Foster finally stopped, lowered his head, and frowned in deep thought, his mind filled with the forms of the Bull Fist.

  “Little brother, take a break!” A deep, resonant voice rang out. From beneath the pavilion, a young man in a blue martial outfit strode out—it was William Foster’s elder brother. He held a rosewood lunchbox in his hand and walked over in big strides.

  “Little brother, you’ve been practicing boxing all day. You must be hungry. Man is made of iron, food is made of steel. Martial arts are important, but without strength, you can’t keep training.” John Foster said with a smile, his eyes full of affection. In the marquis’s residence, the one he worried about most was this little brother. Their father had long been stationed on the frontier, and as the saying goes, the eldest brother is like a father. In the capital, only he could protect his younger brother.

  “All day?” William Foster was startled. He looked up and only then realized that the sky was dark and overcast, with no stars or moon in sight.

  He had lost track of time and had actually spent the entire day practicing in the Zilong Garden.

  “Gurgle!”

  His stomach rumbled, and only after realizing a whole day had passed did William Foster feel the hunger in his belly. He had focused all his mind on boxing and martial arts, forgetting not only his fatigue and soreness, but even his hunger.

  “I didn’t expect the day to pass so quickly. I really am a bit hungry.” William Foster said with an embarrassed smile, walking over to John Foster.

  “Mother knew you hadn’t eaten all day and was afraid you’d go hungry, so she kept your food warm for you. Hurry and eat.”

  There were many tables and chairs for resting in the Zilong Garden. John Foster placed the food box on the table, and the two brothers sat facing each other.

  Lady Huayang had prepared a sumptuous meal for William Foster: delicate chicken soup, finely stir-fried fish, a small plate of steamed buns, and several side dishes. William Foster sat by the table, eating the meal his mother had prepared in the cool night air, feeling a warmth in his heart.

  While William Foster ate, John Foster sat by and watched, a gentle smile on his face. Seeing William Foster work so hard at his training, he felt quite gratified.

  “If father knew how diligently little brother was training, he would be very pleased.” John Foster thought of their father, Marquis Sifang, Edward Foster. The frontier was desolate and poor, and their father had not returned to the capital for many years.

  “Little brother, I saw you frowning in thought just now—did you run into some difficulty?” After William Foster finished eating and put down his chopsticks, John Foster asked.

  “Yes, big brother, you came at just the right time. That Bull’s Charge move of yours—I just can’t capture the intent behind it.” William Foster immediately voiced his confusion.