Shooting the Eagle: Starting from Iron Palm Peak

Lin Qi was placed in a secluded courtyard on the back of Iron Palm Peak.

It was called a courtyard, but it was really just two stone houses surrounding a small open space. The open space was covered with moss, and there was a pile of chopped firewood in the corner. The courtyard wasn't big, but it was clean, much better than the leaky servant's room where Ah Qi lived in Lin Qi's memory.

The disciple who helped him over placed him on the bed, said, "The doctor will be here soon," and turned to leave. Lin Qi lay on the hard wooden bed, staring at the rough wooden beams above him, finally having time to think about his current situation.

He survived. But surviving was only the beginning.

First, his identity. A third-generation disciple of the Iron Palm Clan, he has no parents, no background, and no powerful backers. Among the tens of thousands of disciples in the clan, he ranks at the very bottom. The only difference is that Qiu Qianren has now specifically requested to see him, which means his situation within the clan will become delicate—Han Duanyue's faction will see him as a thorn in their side, while other factions may try to win him over.

Second, his martial arts skills. Lin Qi closed his eyes and carefully sorted through the memories left by Ah Qi.

Ah Qi practiced Iron Palm for ten years, using the most basic technique of the Iron Palm Clan—striking his palms with an iron sandbag every day, supplemented by soaking in medicinal wine to strengthen his skin, flesh, tendons, and bones.

After ten years of hard work, I barely achieved a minor level of mastery. By minor mastery, I mean that I can shatter two bricks with a single palm strike without my palm turning red or swollen.

This is considered a decent foundation among ordinary martial arts practitioners, but in a place like the Iron Palm Clan, it wouldn't even qualify as an elite disciple.

Besides Iron Palm, Ah Qi also practiced a set of "Iron Arm Kung Fu"—repeatedly striking his forearms with a wooden stick to increase bone density and use it to parry swords and knives. He was even worse at this skill, only able to withstand blows from the wooden stick, and it was useless against real swords and spears.

Lightness skill? A little bit. Internal energy? The Iron Palm Clan doesn't teach internal energy cultivation methods to ordinary disciples; they only practice external hard skills, relying on the tempering of muscles, bones, skin, and flesh. Ah Qi has practiced for ten years, but his dantian is completely empty, without a trace of internal energy.

Lin Qi sighed inwardly. This was all he had—two hands that were a little harder than the average person's, and two forearms that were a little more resilient than the average person's, nothing more.

Third, his enemy. Han Duanyue, the deputy head of the Iron Palm Hall, a master of the Iron Sand Palm technique, capable of crushing bluestone with one hand. His nephew, Han Biao, was beaten by Lin Qi, and he couldn't let this go unpunished.

Han Duanyue failed to kill Lin Qi in the hall today, and he will definitely cause trouble for him in secret in the future. As the deputy hall master of the Iron Palm Hall, he has many ways to deal with a third-generation disciple.

Fourth, his bargaining chip, and his only bargaining chip—his understanding of "The Legend of the Condor Heroes".

He knew the past and future of the Iron Palm Clan, Qiu Qianren's weakness, Shangguan Jiannan's last will, the outcome of the second Mount Hua Sword Tournament, the growth trajectory of Guo Jing and Huang Rong, the Battle of Xiangyang, and all the major events in the martial arts world over the past twenty years.

But these bargaining chips can't be used yet. For a third-generation disciple to suddenly reveal too many things he shouldn't know would only arouse suspicion. He needs time, he needs his identity, and he needs his martial arts skills.

And it all started with Qiu Qianren.

The doctor arrived. He was a thin old man in his fifties, carrying a medicine box. He entered the room, first looked at Lin Qi's complexion, then took his pulse, and frowned.

"The radius and ulna of my left arm are completely broken. The set is okay, but not straight." As the old man spoke, he suddenly pulled and pushed. Before Lin Qi could even cry out, he heard a "crack" and felt a sharp pain in his broken arm, which then quickly subsided.

"Two ribs are broken, but they didn't pierce the lungs, he's lucky to be alive. The kick to his waist injured his spleen, he'll need three months of rest." As he spoke, the old man took out bottles and jars from his medicine box, applied ointment to Lin Qi's arm, splinted it, and wrapped several layers of cloth around his chest.

"Don't move your left hand for a month, don't practice martial arts, and don't fight. After a month, remove the splint and start moving around slowly. Take your medicine twice a day, one bowl in the morning and one in the evening."

Lin Qi thanked him. The old man packed his medicine box, walked to the door, looked back at him again, hesitated, and finally left.

Lin Qi knew what he wanted to say—why hurt yourself like this?

He lay in bed, watching the light outside the window gradually dim.

In the days that followed, Lin Qi diligently recuperated. He took his medicine, slept, and occasionally took a few slow walks in the yard. The pain from his broken arm gradually changed from excruciating to a dull ache, while the rib injuries healed even more slowly, requiring him to be extremely careful when coughing or sneezing.

The days of recuperation were boring, but he didn't waste them. He spent a lot of time each day sorting through Ah Qi's memories—the Iron Palm Gang's terrain, personnel, rules, codes, and the duties and relationships of the various halls and altars within the gang.

The Iron Palm Clan's headquarters is located on Iron Palm Peak, built against the mountainside and divided into three outer courtyards and three inner courtyards. The outer three courtyards are where ordinary disciples and servants live, while the inner three courtyards are where core disciples and leaders at various levels reside. At the deepest part is Qiu Qianren's residence and the main meeting hall. The entire Iron Palm Peak is riddled with secret passages and mechanisms, making it impossible for outsiders to find their way around.

He had already seen the power structure of the gang in the main hall, and now he needed to memorize everyone's name, appearance, position, and faction.

Han Duanyue is the deputy leader of the Iron Palm Hall. He has mastered the Iron Sand Palm technique and has a group of trusted disciples. He is the most powerful pragmatist in the gang.

Zhou Mingyuan of the Criminal Law Department is a conservative and upright man who doesn't get along with Han Duanyue. Qian Sihai of the Foreign Affairs Department is a two-faced, shrewd man who avoids offending anyone. Mei Ruolan of the Internal Affairs Department manages the entire gang's finances and supplies; she is intelligent but doesn't participate much in factional struggles.

As for Qiu Qianzhang, he was nominally the leader of the Iron Palm Hall, but in reality, he was just a figurehead. He spent his days eating, drinking, and having fun, and no one took him seriously.

As for Qiu Qianren himself—Lin Qi thought about it for a long time and found that he couldn't see through this person.

In the original novel, Qiu Qianren is a villain who is ruthless, ambitious, and will stop at nothing to win the title of "Number One in the World".

But when Lin Qi said those words in the main hall that day, the pain and shame in Qiu Qianren's eyes didn't seem fake.

This person is conflicted, struggling, and feels guilty towards his master, Shangguan Jiannan. This is the opening he can exploit.

A month later, the splint was removed. Lynch's left arm had thinned considerably, and the muscles had atrophied a lot, but the bones had healed fairly well. He tried to move his fingers; he could clench his fist and open his fist, but he couldn't exert any force.

The rib injury has mostly healed, and I only feel a slight stinging pain when I take a deep breath.

He decided to go see Qiu Qianren.

To get from the back courtyard to Qiu Qianren's residence, one must pass through the entire inner three courtyards.

Lin Qi walked along the bluestone path, encountering many disciples of the gang along the way. Some recognized him as the Lin Qi who had "come back to life" in the main hall, casting curious or disdainful glances at him; others did not know who he was and passed by expressionlessly.

Han Duanyue's men didn't cause any trouble, at least not openly. But Lin Qi noticed that two people were following him at a distance, neither too close nor too far, as if they were monitoring him.

Qiu Qianren lived in a stone building at the highest point of Iron Palm Peak. The building was not tall, only three stories high, with gray walls and black tiles. Several pine trees were planted around it. Two black-clad disciples stood in front of the door. When they saw Lin Qi arrive, one went in to announce his arrival, while the other blocked the doorway.

"The leader lets you in." The disciple who went in to announce the news quickly came out and stepped aside.

Lin Qi entered the stone building. The first floor was a small hall, simply furnished with a wooden table, two chairs, and a painting on the wall—a painting of a middle-aged man, dressed in armor, with a long sword at his waist, and a resolute gaze. There was no inscription on the painting, but Lin Qi guessed who it was.

Shangguan Jiannan.

Qiu Qianren sat in a chair, holding a cup of tea. He wasn't wearing his usual blue robe today; instead, he wore a gray short-sleeved brown robe, making him look like an ordinary middle-aged farmer, but the sharpness in his eyes was still there.

"Is your injury healed?" Qiu Qianren looked up at him.

"Thank you for your concern, Chief. I'm about 70-80% better." Lin Qi clasped his hands in a salute.

"come over."

Lin Qi walked over and stopped three steps away from Qiu Qianren. Qiu Qianren put down his teacup, stood up, and walked around Lin Qi. Lin Qi felt his gaze like a ruler, measuring him from head to toe, from shoulders to hips.

"Reach out your hand," Qiu Qianren said.

Lin Qi extended his right arm. Qiu Qianren grasped his wrist, placing two fingers on his pulse point. Lin Qi felt a warm current seep in from his wrist, travel up his arm, past his shoulder, circle his chest, and then descend to his dantian. The current was very fine, like a needle, gently pricking various parts of his body before receding.

Qiu Qianren released his grip, his face expressionless.

"His physical constitution is average, neither bad nor good." He sat back in his chair. "You've practiced Iron Palm for ten years?"

"Yes."

"Have you reached a basic level of proficiency?"

"Barely considered a minor achievement."

Qiu Qianren nodded: "Give me a punch and see."

Lin Qi looked around; there wasn't much to fight in the hall. Qiu Qianren seemed to sense his hesitation and pointed to a blue brick in the corner: "Fight that brick."

Lin Qi walked over, took a deep breath, raised his right palm, and slammed it onto the blue brick. With a crisp "crack," the blue brick shattered into three pieces, sending fragments flying. Lin Qi's palm was slightly red, but not swollen or painful—a sign of achieving minor mastery of Iron Palm.

Qiu Qianren glanced at it, but remained noncommittal.

"One more punch."

Lin Qi hesitated for a moment, but did as he was told. He clenched his right fist and slammed it down, turning the broken bricks into even smaller pieces. This punch used the foundation of Iron Palm, but the way he generated the power was different—Iron Palm is a palm technique, and punching is not its forte.

"You're using the same power generation method as palm techniques when you're punching," Qiu Qianren said. "You're dissipating your energy; at least 30% of it is wasted."

Lin Qi looked down at his fist and said nothing.

Qiu Qianren stood up, walked up to him, and extended his right hand: "Attack me with all your might."

Lin Qi hesitated for a moment. He knew that Qiu Qianren wanted to test his martial arts skills, but it seemed absurd to send a third-generation disciple to attack the leader of the Iron Palm Clan.

"Just hit me if I tell you to." Qiu Qianren said calmly.

Without further hesitation, Lin Qi channeled his energy into his right palm and struck Qiu Qianren in the chest.

He didn't hold back—not because he didn't want to, but because his strength was no match for Qiu Qianren's; whether he held back or not made no difference.

Lin Qi's hand was still three inches from Qiu Qianren's chest when it suddenly felt like it had hit an invisible wall. A supple force bounced out from Qiu Qianren's body, shaking Lin Qi's hand away. He took two steps back before regaining his balance.

Internal energy released externally. Iron Palm Technique.

Lin Qi steadied himself, his heart pounding. This was the first time he had personally experienced the strength of a top-tier expert, and the feeling couldn't be summed up by the word "powerful"—it was a crushing defeat on a different level, like the difference between an adult and an infant.

Qiu Qianren withdrew his hand, looked at Lin Qi, and remained silent for a few moments.

"Your Iron Palm foundation is quite solid; ten years of hard work haven't been in vain," he said. "But that's about it. Iron Palm is an external martial art; at its peak, it's only at the level of Han Duanyue—able to split rocks and shatter stone tablets, but against a true master, it's utterly vulnerable."

Lin Qi stood with his hands at his sides, without saying a word.

"What you said in the main hall that day," Qiu Qianren suddenly changed the subject, "was very true."

Lin Qi's heart skipped a beat, but his face showed no sign of distress.

"It's truly remarkable that a third-generation disciple like you could think of such things."

"Those words woke me up." Qiu Qianren's voice suddenly lowered, his gaze falling on the portrait on the wall. "What I've done over the years has indeed let my master down."

He remained silent for a moment, then looked away and focused his gaze on Lin Qi.

"You said that day that you didn't want the Iron Palm Clan to just rot away like this. I ask you, if you had the chance, how would you prevent it from rotting?"

Lin Qi was stunned. This was not the question he had expected. He thought Qiu Qianren would ask him a few more questions and then let him go, but he didn't expect him to ask something like this.

He thought about it and decided to tell the truth—or at least part of the truth.

"This disciple does not know," he said. "But this disciple does know that you can tell whether a gang is good or bad by looking at two things—first, what the gang members do outside, and second, what kind of people surround the gang leader."

Qiu Qianren raised an eyebrow.

"If the gang's members bully men and women outside, and the people curse the Iron Palm Gang, then that gang is rotten," Lin Qi said. "If the people around the gang leader only think about fighting for power and enriching themselves, then that gang is also rotten."

"You think the people around me are bad?"

"This disciple wouldn't dare," Lin Qi said, bowing his head. "But this disciple believes that Han Biao dared to forcibly abduct women in town not because he was bold, but because he knew he had an uncle who was a deputy hall master, so someone would cover for him if something happened."

The hall was quiet for a while.

Qiu Qianren wasn't angry. He looked at Lin Qi with a scrutinizing gaze, and also with a hint of something Lin Qi couldn't quite understand.

"You've got some nerve," Qiu Qianren said.

"I am only telling the truth."

"Those who tell the truth don't last long in the Iron Palm Clan."

"Therefore, a disciple needs a master."

Even Lynch was surprised when he said it. He hadn't planned to say it, but it just slipped out naturally.

Qiu Qianren stared at him for a long time.

Then he smiled. Not the fleeting, faint smile he had shown in the main hall that day, but a genuine smile, tinged with admiration.

"Lin Qi," Qiu Qianren said, "let me test you—what is the Iron Palm Clan's signature martial art?"

"Iron Palm Skill"

Do you know why only the sect leader and their successor can practice Iron Palm Kung Fu?

"Because that is the foundation of the Iron Palm Clan. It cannot be easily passed on. If it is passed on to the wrong person, the Iron Palm Clan will be finished."

Qiu Qianren nodded, then shook his head.

"You're half right," he said. "The other half is that Iron Palm Kung Fu requires extremely high physical constitution and comprehension from the practitioner. Ordinary people who try to learn it will not only fail but also injure themselves. So it's not that I don't want to pass it on; it's that most people aren't qualified to learn it."

He stood up, walked up to Lin Qi, and looked down at him.

"Your physical constitution isn't exceptional, but it's not bad either. Your martial arts foundation is shallow, but your intelligence surpasses that of most people in the gang."

Lin Qi's heart raced. He vaguely guessed what Qiu Qianren was about to say.

Qiu Qianren stood with his hands behind his back. Outside the window, the pine trees rustled in the wind, and sunlight streamed in, falling on his gray robes.

"Lynch, I have a question for you—"

"Would you be willing to become my disciple?"