“Heh heh,” John Foster brushed his sleeve and stood up, striding to the center of the garden. He turned to look at William Foster: “This move, the Wild Ox Charge, was actually something I figured out myself during my own training. In the army, there’s no such power technique. Little brother, watch closely—when using this move, you need to coordinate your muscles.”

“When you reach a certain level in martial arts, your will becomes strong enough to control every muscle in your body. When your muscles vibrate, they stir the air, allowing you to create all kinds of attack techniques.”

As John Foster spoke, he demonstrated the final move of the Wild Ox Fist, the Wild Ox Charge, in extremely slow motion. His muscles trembled one by one, as if alive. Each muscle’s vibration stirred up a gust of wind, and the booming sound of air bursting was startling.

William Foster stared ahead, not even noticing when John Foster finished the technique. He looked entranced, his eyes filled only with the image of John Foster launching the “Wild Ox Charge.”

John Foster smiled inwardly, walked lightly over, picked up the chopsticks from the table, and quietly left.

Not long after John Foster left, the sound of fierce fist winds rose again in Zilong Garden.

All night, William Foster did not rest. Only at dawn did he finally fall into a deep sleep.

Chapter 5: Deep Brotherly Bond

“Sifang Marquis has colluded with the enemy and betrayed the country—an unforgivable crime. By imperial order, everyone in the Sifang Marquis’ residence is to be arrested and imprisoned. Any who dare resist will be executed without mercy!” The main gates of the Sifang Marquis’ residence stood wide open. An old eunuch from the palace, his voice shrill, read out the imperial edict. His gaze was as venomous as a snake’s. Behind him, rows upon rows of imperial guards stood at the ready.

“Seize all the criminals!” At the command, the brightly armored guards surged in like tigers and dragons.

“Mother!” Suddenly, a cry of alarm came from the main hall.

“Mother!” William Foster’s eyes were bloodshot as he knelt on the ground, gazing up in despair. At the end of his sight, a beautiful woman slashed her own throat with a sword, her graceful body collapsing softly against the wall. Her snow-white neck was stained with glaring red.

……

“Ah!”

William Foster suddenly sat up from the ground, cold sweat pouring from his forehead. His breathing was rapid, and it took a long time for him to calm down.

“Young master, you’re awake.” A girl’s voice sounded by his ear, crisp as a nightingale.

When William Foster turned his head, he saw a young girl in a silver-mouse fur jacket standing properly by his side. William Foster recognized her—this maid was his mother’s close attendant, named Grace.

“Madam said, when young master wakes up, you should go rest in the side room. It’s cold outside.” The girl lowered her head and spoke softly.

Only then did William Foster notice a thick fox-fur cloak had been draped over him. This early morning was the coldest time of day. In the capital, after late autumn, the weather only grew colder.

“I understand. You may go.” William Foster waved his hand.

“Yes, young master.”

After the maid left, William Foster did not get up to return to his room. He sat dazed on the ground, memories of his “previous life” flooding his mind. In his memory, his mother’s care was always so meticulous, yet never obvious. In William Foster’s recollection, his mother always appeared strong—only when she fell did William Foster realize she, too, had a vulnerable side.

Having grown used to his mother’s protection, it was only at the moment she fell that William Foster realized how much she needed to be cared for. For a woman to live in the perilous capital—how precarious it must have been!

Having lived two lifetimes, William Foster finally understood how hard things had been for his mother!

“Mother!…” William Foster’s eyes grew moist, the scene from his dream seeming to replay before him, making his nose sting.

“Mother, believe me—from now on, I will never let you suffer again!”

William Foster stood up and wiped away his tears. He did not return to the side room to rest. Instead, in the chilly morning wind, he began training in martial arts once more.

“I have no extraordinary fortune, nor anyone powerful to protect me. The only thing I can rely on is the memory of an extra lifetime—and my own fists.”

William Foster understood deeply the crisis he faced. The memory of an extra life did not give him much of an advantage. If he wanted true strength—strength enough to change his fate—he had no choice but to train harder than anyone else!

For half a month, William Foster stayed in Zilong Garden. Mrs. Clark had already arranged a half-month leave for him. During this time, except for necessary meals, William Foster devoted all his time to training.

This high-intensity training meant that one day of William Foster’s hard work was equivalent to five days of an ordinary person’s practice. After all, there are twelve hours in a day, and ordinary people spend at most two or three hours training, with the rest of the time spent on eating, socializing, and sleeping.

William Foster’s dedication to training could only be described as fanatical. John Foster and Mrs. Clark saw this and felt both worried and pleased. William Foster’s daily training time reached nearly eleven hours, leaving only one hour for eating and sleeping.