"Yah Yan, can I enter the inheritance ground directly from here?" Yang Zhai inquired.
It was finally time to train his body, but he had no desire to exit and re-enter. His body was in no condition for a potential fight that could occur.
"Master, you can," Yah Yan replied. "Simply focus your mind on the inheritance ground and send your intent through the ring. A gateway will open for you."
Yang Zhai did as instructed.
A shimmering gate, identical to the one that opened whenever he entered the inheritance space, materialized before him. However, this one formed in ten to twenty seconds, far quicker than when the gate summoned from the outside world.
A moment later, Yang Zhai stood within the familiar expanse of the inheritance ground.
In front of him stretched a wide canyon, its silence carrying an air of mystery. At its heart lay a tranquil lake, its surface adorned with grape-purple lotus leaves swaying gently with the night breeze. The water shimmered with crystalline clarity, revealing beneath it smooth stones and marbles of varying sizes and hues, as though the lake guarded treasures of its own.
Suspended above the water was a narrow wooden bridge, simple yet elegant, linking his side of the canyon to a solitary gazebo resting on the far bank. Encircling both the gazebo and the lake were groves of red and sugar maples, their leaves glowing faintly under the silver light, creating an enchanting contrast of crimson and gold against the night's veil.
The canyon walls rose impossibly high, their peaks lost in darkness. Thick green vines dangled downward, swaying lightly, while patches of moss clung stubbornly to the damp stone, giving the cliffs an ancient, living presence.
Though night lingered overhead, the moon's silver glow spilled across the canyon, bathing the gazebo, the trees, and the still waters in a moonlight. The scene was hauntingly beautiful—like a painting that breathed.
Without hesitation, he summoned his strength. All the blue and orange lines ignited at once, flooding his body with raw, unrestrained power. It roared within him like a tidal wave, surging to every vein and muscle.
With resolve, he signaled Wang Lei to begin.
Wang Lei struck with all his might.
The first lash sent an unbearable wave of agony deep into Yang Zhai's muscles. It was not merely a surface sting; each strike sent a shockwave rippling through his tissue, stretching fibers to their limit and igniting a searing, profound pain. He gritted his teeth, enduring the pain spreading under his skin.
Then came the second lash. Another devastating shockwave tore through him, minutely shredding and pulling his muscles apart.
Both glowing marks on his skin flared brightly for a single, intense moment.
The third strike completed the set. A new shockwave surged—this one more intense, yet paradoxically carrying a thread of healing energy that soothed the torn muscles, bringing a fleeting relief.
Yang Zhai raised a hand to stop Wang Lei and checked his body, but as expected, he felt no change.
He gave the order once more.
Wang Lei resumed, his strikes falling relentlessly. Yang Zhai finally called a halt after thirty-six blows. Sweat covered his entire body, yet the orange lines shone, keeping the damage just within tolerable limits.
Even though I could push to fifty-four strikes right now, I cannot be reckless. Thirty-six is already more than enough, Yang Zhai thought. Then, a sudden loss of that borrowed strength will leave a severe toll on my body.
For now, he was still safe from the consequences.
Cautiously, he deactivated one orange line. Four remained active, yet a sudden, vicious pain immediately engulfed his body. Red tear marks and scars began to appear across his skin.
The pain pierced every ounce of his muscle. His fibers began to stretch violently, and painful cramps appeared accross his body.
"Not good…" he gasped.
He hurriedly reactivated the final orange line.
"Sigh, as I expected," he murmured, the pain receding slightly. "This really took a toll. Even with the extra strength of eighty-one bulls from the four orange lines, the backlash is far more severe than it should have been."
Steeling himself, he stopped the fifth line again. The agony returned, his muscles again stretching unnaturally.
He immediately reactivated the line of perfection, and his muscles relaxed into a false calm.
He repeated this brutal cycle for two long hours, forcing his muscles to adapt to the violent ebb and flow of power. Gradually, the stretching became less severe. The pain, though ever-present, became a dulled roar than a sharp scream.
"Now, let's stop all the orange lines."
He released the essence of the orange lines back to their source. His body was abruptly abandoned by all the temporary strength they provided.
His muscles stretched all at once in a single, excruciating spasm. Fresh tears split open his skin wherever Wang Lei's strikes had landed. He quickly activated all four orange lines together, brutally halting the catastrophic damage.
He repeated the same grueling procedure as before. After another hour, he felt his muscles had been stretched and tempered enough to handle the change. He let all the orange lines go.
Pain still radiated from every cell, but his flesh and muscles endured. They did not tear open anew. The scars, however, remained. The damage to his flesh and skin was significant, though not beyond the repair of an ordinary healing ka.
He was drenched in sweat, his eyes bloodshot. A web of lurid red scars decorated his body. Blood smeared his skin.
And this was the result of only a few minutes of actual training. The subsequent hours of painful incorporation were the true price.
If he had recklessly taken more strikes, his body would have been utterly unprepared. Had the sun risen, stealing his orange lines' power, he would have been left vulnerable to the full, unleashed damage. At best, his skin and muscles would have been devastated; at worst, it would have meant death.
I know my own limits. To go beyond them is not bravery, but foolishness.
The greatest curse of this amalgamation was the searing agony it inflicted on the skin. Each strike branded him with fiery red welts, some spilling blood, all of them raw and merciless. This damage would accumulate, a looming threat that promised to overwhelm him if he failed to heal it meticulously each day. Eventually, the wounds would tear open into scars so deep and permanent that no ordinary healing method could ever hope to heal them.
He activated Meliora, focusing its powers on healing his skin and flesh.
Then, he examined his strength.
"Hmm, my muscle quality and physical strength have increased," he observed. "My raw strength has risen from thirty-five bulls to fifty. My overall body quality has also improved, from 108 bulls to 123. A significant improvement, even for all the time and pain it cost."
Yang Zhai gave a satisfied nod. After fully healing his injuries, he allowed gave a full hour of rest.
Refreshed, he stood up.
He walked into the pond hiding the sap water, its surface shimmering under the night sky.
He activated his orange lines once more.
The sap water immediately began to seep into his body through his pores. It flowed into his veins, arteries, and vessels, traveling with his blood to modify and strengthen them from within.
The time I can now sit in the pond is nearly two hours and forty-five minutes. But let's not push it.
He remained there sitting for one hour and fifty minutes before moving a little, consciously letting the sap water exit his body. He then emerged and sat on the bank to meditate.
His next step was one of meticulous control. He deactivated the fifth orange line, then activated it again instantly. He repeated this process countless times, slowly, painstakingly increasing the duration of each deactivation.
I must be careful. Veins are far more fragile than flesh and bone; they cannot withstand a sudden stretch or change without warning.
The body... it is a marvel that still amazes me. Especially its profound ability to adapt to change, and then to evolve further to accommodate that new reality. Even more amazing is its capacity for storage. I sometimes believe the secret to immortality itself is hidden within our own body, a mystery we have simply not yet unraveled. I wonder if walking the body path will allow me to uncover these deeper secrets.
After three more hours of intense focus, he was done.
He had already rested an hour after the sap water training. Now, his gaze fell upon the Brown Dacite, which sat waiting for him beside the pond.
!|!*****!*****!|!