Sanlang Brooks urged again, “Can you come now?”

　　Yvonne Foster retorted playfully, “What’s the rush? I promised you, so of course I won’t go back on my word.”

　　Hearing the two speak so ambiguously, Jintai Mason was burning with jealousy: It’s over, all over, so Yvonne Foster really does like this sort of thing. If I’d known earlier, I should have bought a book of poetry, memorized it, and recited a few lines in front of her from time to time. Maybe I’d be the one invited into her chambers now...

　　Lost in wild thoughts, suddenly a splash of tea came pouring down, landing on him and Guitang Carter.

　　The tea was scalding hot, and the two couldn’t help but scream in pain, taking off at a run.

　　Sanlang Brooks was startled: “There’s someone outside the window!”

　　Yvonne Foster smiled sweetly, “There’s no one now.”

　　“But that was the tea I poured for you as a disciple’s salute...”

　　“Silly, can’t you just pour another cup?”

　　“Oh, oh.”

　　Sanlang Brooks immediately went to pour another cup of tea.

　　After drinking the disciple’s tea, Yvonne Foster officially began teaching him martial arts, a technique called “Jingfeng Finger.” The name sounded mysterious, but in reality, it was just a method for blocking meridians and striking acupoints.

　　Sanlang Brooks had no martial arts foundation at all, and his physical condition was abysmal. After thinking it over, Yvonne Foster decided that only “Jingfeng Finger” was suitable for him to learn.

　　Blocking meridians and striking acupoints was considered an advanced level in martial arts, something most fighters couldn’t master or use. “Jingfeng Finger” was special in that it had two methods of practice, one yang and one yin. The yang method was superficial and required no foundation in internal energy; as long as you memorized the body’s eight extraordinary meridians and various acupoints, you could use it. As for its success rate and lethality, that depended on the situation.

　　For someone like Sanlang Brooks, poking dozens of times might result in one successful hit, causing the target to be affected.

　　Yvonne Foster then produced a yellowed sheet of paper, on which was drawn a naked human figure, crisscrossed with lines and densely labeled with the names of all sorts of meridians and acupoints, enough to make one’s head spin.

　　“Look at this chart now and return it to me in half an hour. Whatever meridians and acupoints you can remember, I’ll teach you the corresponding finger techniques.”

　　She paused, then solemnly reminded him, “This is just between you and me. You mustn’t tell my father.”

　　As if remembering something else, she added, “Also, if you get distracted by this and fail the exam, you’re not allowed to blame me.”

　　Sanlang Brooks said, “Got it.”

　　He took the chart and studied it hungrily, as if it were a peerless secret manual.

　　Martial arts, in his previous life, had been rare and shrouded in mystery. He never expected to have the chance to learn them firsthand now.

　　—He had originally harbored suspicions about the Xu family, but after Yvonne Foster kicked Riley Wood flying, those doubts were shattered.

　　Being able to beat up ruffians, kick away thugs, and solve problems that words couldn’t—wasn’t that what martial arts were for?

　　A scholar who knows martial arts—what a combination!

Chapter Eight: Immobilized by Acupoint Striking, Left Speechless

　　“One tael, two taels...”

　　On Wanqing Bridge, Riley Wood wasn’t afraid of the rain. He sat right at the bridgehead, counting his silver.

　　The bright, shiny silver made up a small pouch. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much money. As he counted, his face lit up with joy, but when he accidentally tugged at the wound on his cheek, the pain nearly brought tears to his eyes.

　　“What a vicious little minx. One day, I’ll...”

　　But the rest of his threats wouldn’t come out.

　　As a ruffian, ferocity was his greatest shield, but sharp eyes were just as essential. You had to know whom you could provoke and whom you couldn’t; whom you could bully and whom you should avoid.

　　Nancy Foster and her daughter, as outsiders, had opened a martial arts school in Jing County. With Yvonne Foster’s beauty, many people had tried to make a move at first.

　　But none of them got anything good out of it.

　　Riley Wood understood that these two were not to be trifled with. After being kicked flying by Yvonne Foster and losing three teeth, he realized they were on a completely different level. As for revenge, it was best left as just a thought.

　　Fortunately, Guitang Carter and Jintai Mason were easily frightened. Besides the three taels paid in advance, they’d given him another five as compensation, making a total of eight taels—enough to make up for his pain.

　　After counting the money, he packed it up, happily debating whether to go to Drunken Spring Brothel now or wait until evening. He’d been eyeing that voluptuous Peach Blossom girl for a long time, but had never had the money to get in.

　　“No, since it’s so hard to get this chance, I have to make it worth it. I’ll go find some good medicine first, boost my energy, and go at it seven or eight times in one night—then it won’t be a loss.”

　　Thinking this, he got up and left the bridge.

　　Two young women passed by together. When they saw him, they were so frightened their faces turned pale, and they quickly turned around and fled.

　　Riley Wood chuckled to himself: Looks like Yvonne Foster’s kick didn’t take away my reputation—I’m still the ruffian everyone fears!

　　He straightened up proudly, but his face still hurt, and his mouth felt sticky and uncomfortable. He went to the willow tree by the river, squatted down, and scooped up some water to rinse his mouth.

　　Whoosh!

　　Suddenly, a pincer shot out of the water and clamped tightly around his throat.

　　What is this...

　　Riley Wood was so terrified his soul nearly left his body. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

　　The pincer tightened, dragging him into the water. His legs kicked a few times, then he disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only ripples spreading out.