Iron Fist and Loyal Heart

Chapter 11 Golden Skin and Jade Luo

On the last day of the first week of tendon training, a line appeared on the inside of Su Xinpei's right forearm.

It wasn't a scar. He discovered it by accident while showering—hot water was running down his arm, the foam dripping down his forearm, and a very fine, light golden line appeared on the inside of his right forearm, near the ulna. It was about three centimeters long, less than the thickness of a hair, and didn't hurt or itch. He rubbed it a couple of times with his left thumb; the line didn't fade, and the texture was exactly the same as the surrounding skin—neither raised nor sunken, like a very thin metal wire embedded in the dermis. He turned off the shower, stood in the bathroom looking down for a moment, then dried himself and put on his clothes.

That evening, upon arriving at Tiegutang, he finished his stance training and rolled up his sleeves to show Little Tietou. Old Tietou instructed Wu Xiong to turn the light bulb at the courtyard gate brighter, then, holding Su Xinpei's wrist, examined it closely, turning it over and over. He then pressed his thumb against the line on the wrist and told Su Xinpei to clench his fist tightly. Su Xinpei clenched his fist, his forearm flexor muscles tensing. The line on the wrist glowed slightly at the moment of muscle contraction, the gold color changing from light yellow to dark gold, like a filament carrying a weak electric current. Old Tietou released his grip.

"Early signs of golden skin and jade meridians. You've entered the beginner stage of tendon training."

He spoke in a very calm tone. After saying that, he went to the corner to get an enamel mug and poured water, as if he were merely stating the prices of the vegetables for the evening. But Su Xinpei noticed that the enamel mug tapped twice on the spout when he poured the water—the old man only tapped the mug when he was emotionally agitated; normally, he would catch the water steadily.

Wu Xiong leaned over, grabbed his forearm, and held it up to the light bulb, muttering, "About two months faster than I was back then," before letting go and going back to hit his punching bag. Su Xinpei touched the line and gently compared it to the pulse under his skin when he opened his palm; it was indeed connected to it—when he clenched his fist and tensed his muscles, the tension in a specific area of ​​the fascia increased, and the line would brighten with the change in tension, fading back to a light gold color when he released his grip.

"The signs of tendon strengthening are different for everyone." Old Iron Head finished his water and sat back in his rattan chair. "Your grandmaster's grandmaster started growing from his elbow, segment by segment upwards, like climbing a grid. Wu Xiong's started growing from his wrist towards his elbow, in continuous patches. You're the one who's growing a line first. A line isn't a sign of weakness—a line is a natural signal that the tendon's direction has been straightened. If the tendon isn't disordered, the line will be straight; if the tendon is twisted, the line will be crooked."

Su Xinpei lowered his sleeves, and Old Iron Head spoke again, this time with a deeper voice: "Starting today, your stance and boxing form will remain the same, but you'll add half an hour of Secret Techniques every day. The Iron Bone Hall's Secret Techniques—fighting techniques that use tendons to drive bones and generate power from tendons. The boxing form is a routine, the Secret Techniques are the disassembled reaction sets that create the conditions for a strike. Wu Xiong also practiced this first after mastering tendon training; ask him." Wu Xiong stopped using the sandbag, without turning his head: "After practicing, my hands shake so much I can't hold a bowl, and Master won't let me use a spoon." Su Xinpei didn't hesitate, only asking, "How many Secret Techniques are there?" He was considering the allocation of training time. Old Iron Head said, "The Iron Bone Hall's Secret Techniques have nine moves in total. Each move isn't a routine, but a single technique. You should first learn the first move, 'Putting Through the Sleeves.'"

Old Iron Head stood up and walked to the center of the open space. His right hand hung naturally at his sides, while his left hand pressed lightly down. Then, he took a half step forward with his right foot, and his right arm spiraled out from his waist, the fist arcing through the air. At the end of the punch, his forearm suddenly twisted inward—not a wrist rotation, but a complete forearm twisting about forty degrees around its longitudinal axis. After the movement, his arm stopped in mid-air, fist facing down, knuckles clearly defined. Old Iron Head paused, saying, "Watch closely. First straight, then twist. The power comes from the heel, twisting all the way up. If the shoulder isn't relaxed, the power is intercepted by the shoulder, and you can only use your palm to strike." He retracted his fist and stood still. "The iron rule is to practice the 'sleeve-penetrating' technique by first practicing two hundred air strikes, until your shoulders are completely relaxed, then you can practice on the stance."

Su Xinpei did as instructed. Shadowboxing isn't just about throwing punches randomly—each punch must be delivered with the same stability as a stance: knees slightly bent, hips back, spine straight. The first dozen or so were manageable, but by the 30th or 40th, his shoulder joints started to ache. It wasn't muscle soreness, but tendon soreness, a deep soreness in the connection between the scapula and humerus, like something was being slowly pulled apart. By the 90th, a sudden warmth emanated from the inside of his scapula, the sensation traveling along the fascia of the back of his upper arm towards his elbow, stopping at the elbow crease, and the soreness lessened considerably.

He continued punching. After the 120th punch, he suddenly noticed Wu Xiong standing beside him, watching him with a slightly confused expression. Su Xinpei stopped punching and asked what he was looking at. Wu Xiong said, "Your bare-handed punch through the sleeve is much lighter than the stance I had on my first day of training. But Master told me to start from 100 punches; he made you start from 200." Su Xinpei didn't reply, took a sip of water, and readjusted his stance in front of the wooden dummy.

He landed on the stake. His first punch landed on the old tire wrapped in the stake arm. Su Xinpei subconsciously pushed his fist with the feeling of an "opening door" stance. The fist bounced back after hitting the tire, making the tendons in his wrist ache. Old Tietou frowned: "Wearing the sleeve isn't an 'opening door' stance, it's about striking with tendons, not pushing with the palm. You're using the techniques of a boxing stance to hit a secret hand, you're not twisting enough, the tendons aren't getting the power." Su Xinpei adjusted the sequence of movements—first sinking the shoulders, then twisting the waist, and finally releasing the fist. After several punches, the same problem was pointed out with each punch: the shoulders weren't sinking in time, the timing of the shoulder blades opening was wrong, causing the tendon's power to break at the elbow joint. By the seventh punch, he recalled the feeling of the shoulder joint opening in the "opening door" stance—relaxation isn't about completely releasing the power, it's about allowing the tendons to tighten like wringing out a wet towel when accumulating power. He tried to combine the moment the shoulder blades opened directly with the action of pushing off the ground and twisting the waist, and the dull thud of the fist hitting the tire was shorter and crisper than before.

The tire didn't wobble much, but the spot where the fist struck—the small patch of tire tread hit by Su Xinpei's knuckle—left a shallow fist mark on the rubber surface. Old Tie nodded: "That punch was right. The force didn't dissipate, it was absorbed. Keep this angle and throw thirty more punches, then finish." After throwing the last thirty punches, Su Xinpei's right arm was so sore from shoulder to wrist that he couldn't lift it, and he had difficulty opening and closing his fingers. But the display panel jumped—

[Tendon Training (Iron Bone Hall) Experience +18][Combat Experience +4]

That wasn't enough. Another separate skill entry popped up on the panel: [Sleeve Piercing (Iron Bone Hall Secret Hand) Unskilled 12/100]. He stared at that new entry for a while before closing the panel. This confirmed one thing: the panel's recognition accuracy could distinguish different branches under the "Iron Bone Body Forging Technique Fragment"—the introductory eighteen-hand fist stance was independent, tendon strengthening was a separate path, and the Secret Hand branch was only triggered when he first executed Sleeve Piercing with the correct power structure. If he were to learn alchemy, runes, or even other systems in the future, more entries would definitely pop up.

On the way back, his right arm was almost too weak to grip the handlebars, so he simply pushed the bicycle back to his apartment. At the apartment entrance, he held his arm up to the light to look at the golden line again—the color hadn't changed, but one end of the line had branched out into an extremely thin fork, extending half a centimeter towards his wrist. The fascial structure was self-optimizing along the direction of the force line.

In the third week after incorporating the Secret Hand training into his daily routine, Su Xinpei's body began to experience a qualitative leap. The most obvious change was in his recovery speed. Previously, after practicing 300 punches, his right arm would be so sore and swollen the next morning that he couldn't lift it, and he had to switch to his left hand even for washing up. Now, after the same 300 punches plus half an hour of Secret Hand training, the soreness would be 70-80% gone after a night's sleep. Although his elbow joint was still slightly stiff when moving, it no longer affected his normal life. He started a new page in his notepad specifically to record the changes in recovery speed, measuring his grip strength recovery curve once a week—immediately after training, one hour before bed, and once the next morning after waking up. Data from three consecutive weeks showed that recovery time had been shortened by nearly half.

He showed the records to Old Iron Head, who glanced at them and said, "The prototype of Golden Muscle Jade Network is high-density fascia plus enhanced sarcoplasmic reticulum stress—the higher the density of the tendons on your panel, the stronger the contraction and recovery of muscle fibers will be compared to before. Under the combined stimulation of standing meditation and tendon strengthening, the density of mitochondria and the expansion of capillaries are both increasing. This has nothing to do with numerical values; it's the result of your own body working piece by piece." Su Xinpei didn't say anything, but he knew in his heart that those data weren't for showing off, but for confirmation—every afternoon after counting how many punches he threw and how many hours he stood in the stance, he had to measure and correct them himself in his notebook, because the panel only told him the progress bar, not what stage he had reached.

At the end of the first month, on the eve of the transformative moment in his tendon training, Old Iron Head suddenly stopped his weight training. "Tonight, don't go on the sandbags. Just stand in a stance, just practice punches, slowly, the slower the better." Su Xinpei did as instructed. After finishing his training and returning home, he felt that the entire tendon on the inside of his elbow had become supple, not weak, but resilient—as if a thick protective layer had been applied to the surface of the tendon. The next morning, more golden lines appeared on both forearms, extending from the back of the wrist along the extensor tendons towards the elbow crease, symmetrical on both sides, as if his body was drawing its own blueprint.

Before leaving, he stood in front of the mirror, rolled up his sleeves, and examined himself: the golden veins had transformed from fine threads into a light golden network resembling bundles of fibers, subtly covering the fascia lines on the palmar and dorsal sides of his forearm. The reflection of the veins shifted slightly with the angle as he flexed and extended his elbow. This was the Golden Muscle Network—not a solid plate of armor, but a way to toughen the fascia without sacrificing flexibility, increasing the speed of contraction and rebound while maintaining a small range of torque response.

That night at the Iron Bone Hall, Old Iron Head instructed him to strike the roughest edge of the wooden stake with his right palm. Not hit, but slap—to flatly strike the roughest section of the stake with the palm of his hand. Su Xinpei hesitated for a moment, then slightly bent his knees, relaxed his shoulders, twisted his waist, and slapped his right palm flat against the wooden edge. His palm struck the rough wood, the blunt angle of the wood pressing a white mark into his palm lines, and the stake wobbled twice. But his hand wasn't broken or bleeding; there was only a slight tingling or numbness in the center of his palm, as if struck by a blunt object.

Old Tie Tou stood up from the wicker chair, walked over to him, took his right hand, examined it from all angles, pressed his thumb above the wrist crease, and then released it. Su Xinpei withdrew his hand, moved his palm, felt no pain in the tendons, and had no restriction on the flexion and extension of his wrist joint. Old Tie Tou nodded: "The tendons are formed. Golden muscles and jade meridians—proof achieved." He placed the kettle on the bench, pausing for a rare moment before speaking. He had nodded when Su Xinpei broke through to the beginner level in stance training last time; this time, he didn't comment on the technique, but simply kicked the old dumbbell set that had been sitting unused in the corner of the yard against the wall.

"The certificate doesn't mean the end. Golden Skin and Jade Meridians are the mark of mastering tendon training, but not the whole story—the tendons will continue to become denser and tougher, and will be the foundation for future skin and bone training." He paused, then continued, "Starting the day after tomorrow, we'll focus on skin training. The Water and Fire Immortal Robe. The skin training course is different from tendon training—tendon training is about twisting, skin training is about tempering. If you can temper it well, your skin will be a living armor; if you can't, your skin will be brittle, and brittle skin is worse than not training at all."

Su Xinpei put on his coat and answered with a simple "Mm." He didn't ask what "quenching" meant, because in the Iron Bone Hall, teaching never involved explanation—when he arrived at the courtyard the next day, Old Iron Head would naturally bring out something. Back home, he rolled up his sleeves and examined them under the lamp for a long time. The golden patterns lay quietly on both sides of his forearms, seemingly unchanged from when he finished his practice two hours earlier—but they were not decorations.

It was something he earned little by little over two months, practicing 300 punches a day, 100 punches a day, and standing in meditation for 120 days.