Martial Arts Secret Realm: Only I Can Know the Plot?

"Iron Head." Feng Congyun nodded. "You've been training for three months. What have you achieved?"

Tie Tou hesitated for a moment, then honestly replied, "I've started to get a feel for it, but... but every time I get to the final stage, I feel like my energy just dissipates. Teacher Mo has checked on me several times and said my foundation is fine, it's just that... that..."

He struggled for a long time, but couldn't come up with a word.

"What is it?" Feng Congyun asked.

Tie Tou blushed and said, "I...I don't know how to say it."

Feng Congyun jumped off the table, walked to Tie Tou, and circled around him.

"What kind of martial art do you practice?"

"Iron Head Kung Fu"

This is a very niche external martial art, and the parts it trains are different from those of ordinary people, so very few people are willing to practice it.

Because it is said that practicing this person's skills will make them stupid.

"Horizontal training?" Feng Congyun raised an eyebrow. "Horizontal training is indeed more difficult than training others to generate power. Your rigidity has stretched your tendons to the limit, making it difficult to generate power."

Tie Tou's eyes lit up: "Yes, yes, yes! I just can't walk! Teacher Mo said the same thing, but he helped me relax several times. I could walk then, but after a couple of days it would all go back to being tight."

Feng Congyun reached out and pinched his shoulder.

When you exert force, do you start from your feet?

"Yes."

"Then move upwards, down to the waist, down the back, down to the shoulders, and finally to the hands?"

"Yes."

"At what point do you feel your energy waning?"

Tie Tou thought for a moment: "When I get to...when I get to my hands."

Clearly, Tie Tou had reached the final hurdle of exerting his full strength.

Just one step away from a breakthrough.

Feng Congyun nodded, then suddenly slapped him on the back.

Snapped.

The sound wasn't loud, but Tie Tou was jolted, and his expression changed instantly.

"And now?" Feng Congyun withdrew his hand.

Iron Head stood there blankly for a long time before suddenly raising his right hand and throwing a punch.

The punches were delivered with a whooshing sound, more than twice as fast as usual.

He looked down at his fist, his face filled with disbelief: "This...this..."

"There's a tendon in your shoulder blade that's been taut for years, blocking your path." Feng Congyun clapped his hands. "I've loosened it up for you. From now on, when you exert force, relax your shoulder first, then release the power. Got it?"

Tie Tou stood there, his eyes suddenly reddening.

He knelt down with a thud and kowtowed three times, saying, "Thank you, teacher! Thank you, teacher!"

Feng Congyun stepped aside, looking disgusted: "Get up, get up. You're Old Mo's student, why are you kowtowing? When he gets back and finds out, he'll nag me again."

Tie Tou got up, rubbed his eyes, and chuckled foolishly.

The people below the stage looked at each other in bewilderment.

Is that all?

Teacher Mo spent two months looking into Tie Tou's problem but couldn't completely solve it, yet this drunkard fixed it with a single slap?

Sun Fan sat in the corner, his eyes slightly narrowed.

He saw that palm strike clearly.

It wasn't an ordinary shock.

When Feng Congyun struck down with his palm, the instant his hand touched Tie Tou's back, a very subtle force penetrated it—not striking outwards, but pushing inwards. That force precisely located the taut tendon near Tie Tou's shoulder blade, and with a gentle nudge, loosened it.

This is no longer a technique for generating power.

This demonstrates mastery of internal energy, as precise as embroidery.

"Who else has a question?" Feng Congyun scanned the room.

More than a dozen hands immediately rose from the audience.

Feng Congyun didn't even look at it: "If you have any questions, go find Old Man Mo after class. I'll only teach one class, and I'll leave after I finish."

He returned to the podium, sat down again, and swung his legs.

"The essence of exerting force can be summed up in one sentence: force is dynamic, not static."

He pointed at Tie Tou: "His type is like that—their strength is dead, they can't move. There's another type—their strength is too lively, they run around everywhere, and their attacks have no power. Go back and figure out which type you are."

"Then... how can I train my strength to be more flexible?" someone asked, mustering their courage.

Feng Congyun glanced at him: "Practice."

One word.

The man choked.

"How do you make your strength come alive? You train it to be alive." Feng Congyun rarely explained, "If you practice a thousand times a day, your strength will be dead. If you practice once a day, but think about how the strength moves, how it turns, and how it is delivered, and practice for a year, your strength will come alive."

He paused, then continued, "Old Mo explained this to you three months ago. But how many of you actually listened?"

Silence fell over the audience.

Sun Fan's heart stirred.

These words are exactly the same as what Yan Shisan said back then.

"A swordsman who swings ten thousand swords a day is a fool. A swordsman who swings one sword a day but thinks about how to stab faster, more accurately, and more ruthlessly is a genius."

When Yan Shisan said this, he was lying in the courtyard sunbathing, holding a wine pot in his hand.

Sun Fan asked at the time, "Then how much should I practice?"

Yan Shisan glanced at him: "You? You should unleash ten thousand swords first."

Sun Fan was taken aback.

Yan Shisan lazily added, "Wait until you've mastered the sword before thinking about anything else."

Looking back now, it was Yan Shisan who taught him—first solidify the foundation, then talk about techniques.

Feng Congyun's gaze suddenly fell on Sun Fan.

"you."

Sun Fan looked up.

Feng Congyun looked at him, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes: "What's your name?"

"Sun Fan."

"Sun Fan." Feng Congyun read it aloud, then suddenly smiled. "Old Mo mentioned you to me. He said there's a lad who's pretty good at touching stones."

Sun Fan remained silent.

Feng Congyun jumped off the table, walked to Sun Fan, and circled around him.

"What kind of sword do you practice?"

"have no idea."

"Deadly Sword" is the name given to it by the secret realm.

Yan Shisan had never taught him the Thirteen Deadly Swords, and he didn't know what the Thirteen Deadly Swords were like.

He didn't know what this deadly sword strike really meant.

"Don't know?" Feng Congyun raised an eyebrow.

Sun Fan was silent for two seconds before answering truthfully, "My master only let me watch a martial arts competition and taught me a sword technique."

Feng Congyun stared at him for a long time, then suddenly reached out: "Let me see your sword."

Sun Fan handed over the sword at his waist.

Feng Congyun took the sword, drew it, looked at it, and handed it back to him.

"Ordinary stuff," he said. "Not worthy of your sword."

Sun Fan was startled.

He figured it out?

Feng Congyun didn't say anything more and turned back to the podium.

"Alright, that's the end of the lesson. Use the rest of the time to practice on your own."

He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies, "You can all leave now."

The people below the stage looked at each other in bewilderment.

Is this over?

What happened to the promised class?

But no one dared to ask.

The square-faced, iron-headed man was the first to stand up, bowed respectfully, and strode out. The others followed one after another, and couldn't help but glance at Sun Fan as they passed by.

Sun Fan didn't move.

He is waiting.

The wind didn't move, nor did the clouds.

After everyone had left, leaving only the two of them in the classroom, Feng Congyun finally spoke: "Aren't you leaving?"

Sun Fan looked at him: "You have something to say."

The wind laughed from the clouds.

With that smile, some of that lazy air faded, revealing something different.

"You're quite something, kid," he said. "Old Mo said you're good at touching stones, but I think you're more than that. You're also good at touching people."

Sun Fan did not respond.

Feng Congyun walked up to him, pulled over a chair, sat down, and looked up at him.

"Your master is in the secret realm?"

Sun Fan nodded.

"How long have I been teaching you?"

Sun Fan paused for a moment, then said, "Twenty years."