He moved slowly, put down the chicken claw, and licked his lips.

"Well, as for the reason..."

He glanced around at the group of people eagerly waiting for him to speak.

"What? None of you are going to practice? You think just listening to tall tales will make you stronger? Each of you thinks you're something, huh?!"

"Go, go, go! All of you, get back to it! Only by working hard day and night will you have no regrets when the time comes!"

He picked up a willow branch from behind his chair and swung it at the group.

The willow branch cracked through the air, making a loud noise, causing the group of men to grimace and scatter.

Only Henry Webb was left.

"Alright, now, let's continue. Where were we?" Old Man Grant scratched his head.

"We were talking about the difference between us and ordinary people," Henry Webb quickly replied.

"Yes, that's right, here." The old man spoke slowly, grinding on everyone's nerves.

He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

"Why do we practice martial arts? Isn't it just so we can beat others?"

"Yes, yes." Henry Webb nodded. He was also very curious at this moment—what exactly was the martial arts of this world, and was it still the same as in his previous life?

In his previous life, Chinese martial arts had declined because they couldn't keep up with the times, to the point where they were easily defeated by a group of Sanda practitioners.

Utterly routed.

To say that Chinese martial arts had never been effective from ancient times to now, Henry Webb didn't believe it. After all, every era produced countless masters, and among over a billion people, there were always those who trained diligently—it was impossible for all of them to be useless.

Why, then, were they still no match for Sanda? The biggest reason was probably being stuck in their ways and lacking real combat experience.

So he was very curious about what martial arts in this world were really like.

Old Man Grant dawdled for a while, but finally stopped keeping them in suspense.

"Practicing martial arts is all about being able to beat people. If you can beat others, then the purpose of practicing martial arts is achieved.

So, martial arts is the skill of using various methods to defeat others, to kill others."

He summed up.

"I don't know what others think, but this is the foundation of my Huishan Fist."

Old Man Grant stroked his beard. "And as for being able to beat others, at the root, it still comes down to who is stronger, who is faster, who is more accurate. And, who can take more hits!"

"Master, what insight! Only a veteran expert like you could sum it up so well." Henry Webb quickly praised.

Old Man Grant smiled. "The principle is simple, but how do you make yourself stronger, faster, more accurate, and tougher? That's what you train for.

We practice martial arts for these things. But..."

He changed his tone.

"No one can be good at everything." It's said that when Old Man Grant was young, he even became a scholar, so the way he spoke was different from others.

He sighed.

"People's energy is extremely limited, and talent can't cover everything. So, being able to train one aspect to a high level is already quite good."

He looked at Henry Webb.

"My Huishan Fist focuses on both hands, the fists."

"Rich people can use good gloves to enhance their punching power and protection. But you all don't have money," Old Man Grant said lazily.

"So, just train—harden your fists, build your strength, and you'll be formidable in a fight."

He stood up and pointed at a tall, expressionless man.

"David Scott, you're in charge of your junior brother. Start by helping him train his strength."

"Oh..." The man replied honestly.

Henry Webb looked at the man, compared his build to the others around, and felt that this David Scott might actually be quite strong.

"Junior brother, my name is David Scott, I'm the eldest disciple. I'll teach you how to build strength first. But to build strength, you need to eat meat, so you'll have to find a way to improve your meals first."

"I understand!" Henry Webb nodded seriously. "By the way, senior brother, have you ever heard of internal training experts?"

"Internal training? What's internal training? I don't know." David Scott shook his head. It was clear he was just an honest, straightforward person.

Tall, muscular, and obedient—he was probably often ordered around in this courtyard.

"Since it's your first day, just follow me and practice lifting stones."

"Lifting stones?" Henry Webb felt a bit cheated. So after paying so much money, all he got to do was lift stones?

"Yes, but there's a technique to lifting as well. When you lift, you have to go slow, go steady. Also, there's a bit of Huishan Fist method here, so remember it."

David Scott earnestly led Henry Webb to a corner where stones of various sizes were piled up.

"The method is: body like a floating willow, light as the wind, both feet rooted, strength must move." David Scott recited a little rhyme.

"..." Henry Webb was speechless. This formula was a bit different from what he had imagined.

"Try practicing first." David Scott picked up a stone about as wide as his own body, then hugged it to his chest, lifting it up and down. A big stone in his arms, yet he moved it up and down with ease, gently and smoothly.

Although his upper body was moving, his feet seemed to be rooted to the ground, fixed in place.

Henry Webb seemed to understand a little.

"This is strength training?" he asked.