In the afternoon of the same day, the master got a saw out of nowhere, and then called Qiao Sanye and tossed the logs in the yard.

One log was cut off by the two of them into a series of short stakes of varying lengths, each one wide and the other narrow, the wide end smeared with wax, and the narrow end like an upside-down pyramid, except that the tip was polished to be very rounded.

These wooden stakes are more than one meter long, and the short ones are about ten centimeters.

At first, I thought that these stakes should be wide on the ground, with the narrow side facing up, but I didn't expect that it was the other way around, and the narrow side was facing up, and it was not stable at all.

I asked Master why he let the narrow one land on the ground.

Master said that this kind of short pile is called "fixed pile", and it is unstable when no one is standing on it, and when someone is standing on it...... It was even more unstable, but he also said that if one day I could stand firm on the shortest stake, I would be able to officially start practicing concealment.

I shouldn't have asked such a question, but after the master explained this, he said that I had nothing to do anyway, and let me practice "landing piles" in the yard.

The so-called landing pile, in fact, is a waist horse, the master said, my body is still relatively weak, I can't stand for too long, just start practicing from an hour.

Two hours of life can really exhaust people to death, let alone two hours, even two or three minutes I can't stand.

Master said again, it doesn't matter if you can't stand for that long, just hold on.

That is, from that day on, I was in a semi-coma almost every day. Why semi-comatose? Tired!

I don't lie to you, the kind of tiredness of practicing, I can really kill myself, and my master is the kind of person who doesn't finish your practice, even if I use the word "purgatory" to describe my feelings about those days, it is not an exaggeration at all.

Master also said that when I was young, it was the time for me to grow my body, so I couldn't practice too hard, and I had to combine work and rest.

Law, then needless to say.

So what is Yi?

Sleep more, eat more, and take more medicine.

I'm good at eating and sleeping, but when it comes to medicine, it's really bitter! Basically, I have eaten three meals a day, what strange pills I have eaten, one is more unpalatable than the other, no, I can't say more, when I think of the smell of medicine, my stomach is trembling now.

Master told me that there were not many pills left in his hand, and each one was worth more than real gold, and the medicine in his hand was enough to train an apprentice like me.

Knowing why my master treats me as a treasure, there is a big reason that he can't afford to take in more apprentices.

In his eyes, it is definitely a genuine seedling!

But the master tossed me so much, it is also a normal thing, this is the process that every Xiaolongtanmen person has to go through, if you want to have the ability to excel, the initial reliance is on the word "boil", you have to boil if you want to boil, you have to boil if you don't want to boil, only if you have enough to boil, you have to boil enough, and the basic skills will be consolidated.

That's how God rewards hard work.

Another thing I have to mention is that since I started practicing with my master, I have been growing insanely, although I will not grow into a big man of more than one meter or nine or two meters, but for me who is congenitally weak, it can indeed be regarded as crazy growth.

I also remember when I started to tie my waist and become effortless, but I remember that before I could be happy, Master pushed me to the stake.

If you want to "fix" the pile, you have to rely on the person on the pile.

It's not easy to keep your back tied and balanced at the same time.

At first, it was inevitable to plant my head and the dog gnaw on the mud, but no matter how painful the fall was, Master would let me get up immediately and stand on the pile again.

"The injuries you have suffered now will be your capital to save your life in the future!"

To this day, Master's words still linger in my ears.

From a low pile of more than ten centimeters to a high pile of one meter, it took three years to practice these alone.

Stand firmly on the pile, and then stand on the pile.

The so-called moving piles are ninety-nine thin wooden beams suspended in the air, which seem to be arranged in a disorderly manner in the air, but in fact they are involved in each other, as long as one of them shakes slightly, the remaining ninety-eight will tremble in the direction of chaos.

The fixed pile is practiced as a "stable" word, while the moving pile is practiced by seeing and listening to all directions, as well as the subtle control of the strength on the feet.

Before going to the pile, you still have to carry a bowl full of water in your hand, how full is that bowl? Put a coin and the water inside will overflow.

Only when the pile does not move, the water does not spill, the pile moves, and the water does not spill, can the concealment technique be regarded as a great achievement.

In order to practice the concealment technique to the fullest, it was another full five years.

During these eight years, I didn't just learn the art of concealment, but also learned amateur and other stunts.

In my master's words, my concentration is so strong, I am really sorry for such a good talent if I don't pick up other great skills at the same time.

Most of the mastery skills were passed on to me by the master himself, but I could only rely on myself to study them, because the master was only proficient in swordsmanship in the master's hands, but I chose some spears.

In fact, it can't be said that I drilled a little canggun, but that Shizu's fishbone gun chose me.

When Master asked me to choose a kung fu from Su to learn, he put the rapian, the Guanzhong knife, and the fishbone gun in front of me, but when he set up the fishbone gun, the sword and knife fell off the table on their own as if pushed out by a magnetic force, and then the master picked them up and put them on the table, and they rolled down again.

It's like the spear left by my ancestor doesn't want other weapons to enter my field of vision.

This gun is jet black, clean and neat from beginning to end, without the slightest fancy, the feel is thick and heavy, the gun barrel is faintly glowing with a soft luster, and there is a pure black hanging blood groove made of heavenly fragrant wood buried under the gun head, so as to prevent the blood on the gun head from flowing to the gun barrel, resulting in the hand not holding the gun tightly, the gun head is slender and long, and the weight is only two taels, like a sharp dagger.

The fishbone gun seems to be extremely hard, but the barrel of the gun is said to be made of dragon tendons, which is like steel when it is hard and like a belt when it is soft, and the head of the gun can be removed and tied around the waist one by one.

Therefore, I also specifically asked Master, could it be that there are really dragons in this world?

Master said that this gun is actually made of an extremely rare wood, and it is speculated that this material has a very small probability of being a branch of a thousand-year-old willow spirit, but the world has never seen this material, so they think it is dragon tendon, and the reason why it is called a fishbone gun is because my ancestor once smelled a fishy smell on the barrel of the gun, so he thought that it was taken from the bones of some kind of spirit fish.

Although it turned out later that the smell was the smell of blood left in the blood tank, my ancestor was a very stubborn person, and he thought that the gun was made of fishbones, and since then the gun has been named.

If I chose fencing or swordsmanship, Master could teach me, but he didn't learn it because it was too difficult to shoot, and the fishbone gun chose me, so I had to rely on myself.

In the day and night of penance, in the blink of an eye, it was a full eight years, and it seemed that I had entered the new century, and in eight years, this small town with a backing mountain became a mountain town of considerable scale, and I had grown into a half-sized child.

Fourteen years old is the age when the courage is the strongest, at that age, almost every boy has a little bit of a newborn calf who is not afraid of tigers, and the arrangement that the master made on the gilded hand stove finally worked in this year.