Jiang Zhou, Qionglong Mountain.
The innermost courtyard of Shangzhen Temple was quiet, secluded, and pervaded with a hint of sadness. The early morning sun had lit up this corner nicely. With shuffling footsteps, a man entered the yard from the back rooms. He wrapped his clothes tighter around himself and started his physical training.
Striding out following the pattern of Gang of Divine Tiger, he swiped his fists forcefully across the air with a mighty momentum. A few moments later, his manner changed abruptly as he loosened his fists into open palms and his movements softened with it. Now, he was combining his force with a touch of softness and exerted a series of unbroken movements whose conciseness was complimented by an implicit subtlety.
