Ethan Blake, the genius highly valued by Old Man Grant, successfully reached the entry level on the fifth day of skin tempering, easily completing the transformation of the outer skin on both hands.

As for him, Henry Webb, it had already been one month and twenty-six days, and he still hadn’t reached the entry level.

Although, in fact, the odds of passing the skin tempering stage were only a few percent to begin with.

In this Huishan Fist courtyard, after all these years, there were still only this few people coming and going, and this was the reason.

Because most people simply couldn’t pass and stay, so in total, only a dozen or so people truly made it in.

Henry Webb had actually anticipated this somewhat. He guessed that his own aptitude was at best mediocre—not the worst, but certainly not good.

But guessing is one thing; people always harbor a bit of wishful thinking.

What if he managed to pass on his own?

Unfortunately, when the facts were laid bare, he finally saw the harshness of reality.

In the last two days.

Henry Webb once again saw two people packing up and leaving.

He saw his second sister’s worried gaze, and also noticed the gradually changing looks from those around him.

Early in the morning, Henry Webb was the first to start skin tempering.

He stood alone in front of the wooden basin, staring at the black sand before him.

Not far away, Ethan Blake was surrounded by people, walking into the courtyard with a cold and slightly proud expression, greeting the junior sister Susan King who had come over from the women’s courtyard.

Ethan Blake, Susan King, and a senior brother named Edward Lane had clearly formed their own little clique.

Ethan Blake was exceptionally talented, Susan King came from a good family, had decent talent, and was also attractive. Edward Lane’s family was wealthy—the richest household in Shiqiao Town, where Huishan Fist was located.

The three of them kept their distance from the others, not even intending to interact with anyone else.

Henry Webb withdrew his gaze and saw his third senior brother, Samuel Hayes, watching him from the side.

Samuel Hayes gave him a distant thumbs-up gesture, showing not the slightest change in attitude just because he hadn’t made it in.

A junior brother beside him couldn’t help but ask in confusion, “Third senior brother, since Henry Webb still hasn’t made it in by now, he probably won’t. Why do you still…”

“You mean, since he’s bound to leave sooner or later, why do I still treat him the same as before?” Samuel Hayes countered.

“That’s what I mean. Most people who come here don’t have much money at home.

Most come with the idea of working hard to learn some skills, then finding a better path elsewhere.

Many spend all their money to come here, but still can’t get in, and after so long, still can’t make it. In the future, they probably won’t have much of a future either.” The junior brother shook his head.

“That may be true, but do you think I, Samuel Hayes, make friends for some ulterior motive?” Samuel Hayes smiled. “Is it because others have great prospects that I befriend them? That’s not friendship, that’s scheming.”

The junior brother was left speechless.

Thinking about it, this Senior Brother Hayes really was like that—his friends came from all walks of life, some of low status, some with a bit of family wealth.

Henry Webb was unaware of this conversation. He was fully focused on his skin tempering practice.

His fists plunged into the sand again and again.

He wanted to take advantage of the medicine’s effects to break through in one go and reach a new level.

Time kept passing.

Unfortunately, by the time it was someone else’s turn, the redness on his fists faded quickly.

Only if this redness remained and became permanent could he reach the entry level and step into the ox-hide stage.

Standing at the edge, Henry Webb took deep breaths. Unlike the others who hadn’t made it in, he showed no special expression.

No discouragement, no disappointment. He just stood there.

After a while, he looked up and saw Emily Webb peeking over from the woodshed, her eyes full of hope.

Henry Webb couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

He finally decided to use the Breaking Bead.

No matter what, it was clear now that he couldn’t cross this step on his own.

So...

When it was Henry Webb’s turn.

He glanced at his second sister again, then rolled up his sleeves, stepped forward, and stood before a wooden basin.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, over and over.

Henry Webb closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Bang.

He thrust both hands forcefully into the wooden basin. The cold sand, rough to the touch, stung the skin of his fists.

And at that moment, with a thought, the balloon formed by the Breaking Bead at his chest burst with a pop.

An invisible stream of energy flowed rapidly from his chest throughout his entire body.

Henry Webb had never felt anything like this before.

His five senses seemed to brighten all at once, and the bustling sounds around him filled his ears.

He smelled the strange scent of the sand in the basin, and the strong aroma of herbal medicine wafted from the medicine basin nearby.

His hands began to heat up, grow hot, almost burning.

But Henry Webb kept his eyes closed, repeating his steps one after another.

Time passed slowly, and finally, his turn was over.

“Next.” He heard a senior brother call from the side.

Opening his eyes, Henry Webb looked at his fists.

His fists were bright red. Although the exact effect wasn’t confirmed yet, he could feel that his hands were now as if covered by a thick layer of ox-hide gloves.

Tough and heavy.

“It’s done.”