The next fourteen days were only spent on training. While most disciples his age were satisfied with three hours of basic drills followed by lunch and leisure, Hanyuan was at the training grounds before the sun touched the city walls and didn't leave until the stars were high.
Heavy iron bands, weighted with specialized gravity ore, were now permanently strapped to his forearms and shins. Every step felt like walking through waist-deep mud; every lift of his wooden spear felt like hoisting a pillar of lead.
"Stab! Stab! Stab!"
He moved in a rhythmic trance. His spear-tip hammered into the dummy's waist, then pivoted to the throat, then lunged for the leg.
He played back the words of Elder Wei—a scarred veteran and the clan's foremost spear master—who had pulled him aside a week ago. "A spear is not a tool you hold, Hanyuan. It is a limb you were born without. Until you stop feeling the wood in your hands and start feeling the vibrations of the air through the shaft, you are merely a child waving a stick."
Five hundred stabs had long since passed. His hands were raw, the callouses splitting and bleeding only to be ignored. His white robes were no longer pristine; they were stained with grey dust and the salt of his exertion.
Five hundred and fifty... five hundred and fifty-one...
His arms buckled. With trembling hands, Hanyuan finally leaned the spear against the weapon rack. The weight on his wrists felt like it was trying to pull his shoulders out of their sockets.
"You're tired already?"
A cold, gravelly voice snapped Hanyuan's focus back. Elder Wei stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were like flint, showing no mercy for the boy's age. "Get up! Is this the strength of the Patriarch's son? If you can't even handle a wooden pole and some weights, how do you expect to command Qi? Even a pampered young master should be able to do more than this!"
The Elder's words were sharp as needles, intentionally designed to sting the boy's pride and ignite the fire in his spirit.
Hanyuan didn't argue. He gritted his teeth, the obsidian in his eyes flashing with a spark of determination. He snatched the spear back up. The wood groaned under his renewed grip.
One hundred more!
Every strike was a battle against his own collapsing lungs. By the hundredth thrust, Hanyuan didn't just stop; he collapsed. The wooden spear clattered away as he fell face-first onto the sun-baked stone, his chest heaving like a bellows.
Elder Wei watched for a moment, a rare, microscopic nod of approval ghosting over his lips before he turned and walked away.
After twenty minutes of staring at the ants crawling on the pavement, Hanyuan found the strength to crawl toward the well. He dunked his head into the icy water, gulping down mouthfuls until his throat felt frozen.
Only a little bit more, he thought, looking at his shaking hands. The Body Refining stage is about reaching the limit of the flesh. Only once the body is tempered can it hold the power of Heaven and Earth.
His goal was clear: The Clan Gathering was in two weeks. Usually, youths at the age of ten were lucky to even sense Qi. But Hanyuan didn't just want to sense it. He wanted to break through to the 1st Layer of the Qi Refining Realm before the competition.
He needed to be more than just "fast" or "strong."
Just you wait, Hanyuan thought. recalling that smug grin on xuelings Face.
He barely managed the walk back home. His mother had prepared a steaming bowl of Spirit Herb Congee, but Hanyuan barely tasted it. He ate until his stomach was full and his eyelids felt like lead.
The moment his back hit the mattress, the world vanished. But even in his sleep, his hands were still curved—as if they were still holding the spear that was slowly becoming a part of his very soul.
Hanyuan's eyes snapped open as the first light of dawn crept through his window. The ten hours of deep, undisturbed sleep had worked wonders; the soreness in his muscles had retreated into a dull, satisfied ache, and his spirit felt strangely light.
He hurried to the Main Hall, finding his mother seated gracefully at the table with a bowl of tea.
"Where is Father?" Hanyuan asked, noticing the empty seat at the head of the table.
"He is meeting with the merchants from the Green-Leaf Chamber today. Trade routes in the Southern Continent are becoming restless; he'll be gone for three days," Lin Ruo said gently. She set her cup down, her blue eyes examining Hanyuan's steady posture. "Elder Wei stopped by earlier. He said that since you've been so diligent with your spear arts, you are to go to the Wandering Beast Forest with him tomorrow for live practice."
Hanyuan's heart did a somersault. "The Wandering Beast Forest? Really?"
"Yes," she smiled, though a hint of worry touched her brow. "Eat your fill. You'll need every bit of energy for what's to come."
Hanyuan didn't need to be told twice. He polished off a breakfast of spirit grains and meat before sprinting to the gates, his excitement making him feel as though he were walking on air.
The next morning, Elder Wei was waiting at the great gates of the Bai estate. He looked as stern as ever, but in his hands, he held a long bundle wrapped in coarse linen.
"Hanyuan, take this," Wei grunted, tossing the bundle.
Hanyuan caught it and unwrapped the cloth. His breath hitched. It was a spear made of fine Cold Silver, the shaft engraved with subtle lightning patterns and a tip that gleamed with a predatory light.
"Wow! Elder Wei, thank you!" Hanyuan gripped the weapon; it was significantly heavier than wood, but it felt right.
"Save your thanks for when you survive," Elder Wei grunted, turning toward the forest. "Let's go. Today, you will test your metal against a wolf. Practice is one thing, but a beast that wants to eat your throat is the only true teacher."
As they marched into the dense, misty eaves of the Wandering Beast Forest, Elder Wei spoke in a low, informative tone. "There are various wolf species here. The Iron-Backs are slow but tough; the Shadow-Stalkers are fast. We will start with the Grey Wolves—predators of the forest floor. Remember, Watch your back. Wolves don't fight with honor; they fight to kill."
Deep into the emerald shadows, Elder Wei held up a hand. He pointed toward a rocky outcropping near a small cave. Three wolves—scrawny, grey-furred, and with eyes like glowing amber—were tearing at a carcass.
"Take them on, Hanyuan," Elder Wei whispered, stepping back into the brush to observe. "Your body is already tempered, but your mind hasn't tasted blood. Go."
Hanyuan stepped out, his boots crunching on a dry twig. The three wolves snapped their heads toward him, low growls vibrating in their chests. They didn't bark; they separated instantly. One took the left, one stood in the front, and the third drifted into the shadows behind him.
The wolf on the left lunged first, a blur of fur and claws. Simultaneously, the one in front snapped at his lead leg.
"Hah!"
Hanyuan's instincts kicked in. He rotated his spear with a sharp whoosh. Using the butt of the spear, he struck the left wolf in the ribs mid-air. Crack! The beast whimpered, falling into the dirt. In the same motion, Hanyuan drove the silver tip into the open maw of the frontal wolf. The blade crunched through teeth and bone, and with a quick twist, Hanyuan withdrew the blade, leaving the beast to slump, its skull pierced.
"Too easy," Hanyuan thought. It was his first mistake.
Slash!
A burning pain erupted across his back. The third wolf, the one he had lost track of, had pounced from the shadows. Three deep gouge marks appeared on Hanyuan's robes, blood soaking through the white fabric. He stumbled four steps forward, his teeth grit against the sting.
"Shit... I forgot the one behind me!"
The left wolf, though bruised, scrambled up for a second pounce, while the wolf behind him bared its bloodstained fangs for another strike.
Hanyuan was trapped in the middle. His mind raced. In a desperate, decisive move, he spun and threw the silver spear like a javelin. The heavy weapon flew straight, the cold silver tip erupting through the chest of the wolf behind him and pinning it to the ground.
Disarmed, Hanyuan didn't panic. As the wolf from the left lunged at his throat, he twisted his waist and delivered a heavy roundhouse kick. His leg, tempered by weights and weeks of training, slammed into the beast's neck with a sickening thud.
The wolf crashed aside, dazed. Hanyuan scrambled to his feet, lunging for his impaled spear and wrenching it free from the dead wolf's carcass.
The final wolf was back on its feet, eyes bloodshot and filled with feral rage. It lunged, but Hanyuan was ready. He felt a tingle in his palms, He moved with a speed he hadn't known he possessed, the silver spear becoming a streak of white light.
Squelch.
The silver tip drove clean through the wolf's eye, exiting out the back of its skull. The beast didn't even have time to whimper before it collapsed, dead.
Hanyuan stood over the three carcasses, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from his back, staining the grass crimson, but his eyes were shining with a new, dangerous clarity.
Elder Wei stepped out from the trees, looking at the dead wolves and then at Hanyuan's wounded back. "You killed them, but you were sloppy. If those were Tier 1 Spirit Beasts, that claw mark on your back would have taken your spine."
Hanyuan nodded, wiping the silver spear clean. "I won't let it happen again, Elder."
"See that you don't," Wei said, though there was a hidden gleam of pride in his eyes. "First rule of the forest: Blood attracts more blood. Let's dress those wounds and find your next target. We aren't done yet."