Lunch was a quiet affair. The Royal Team ate quickly, their hands still trembling slightly from the morning sparring session.
Arthev sat at the head of the table, eating a balanced meal of meat, vegetables, and rice with great efficiency.
Qin Ming stood up when the plates were empty.
"Rest time is over," he announced. "Head to the track."
The team groaned but obeyed. They walked to the outer ring of the training ground. It was a simple dirt track, usually used for warm-ups.
Arthev was already there. He stood beside a large wooden crate.
"Physical conditioning," Arthev said as they approached. "In the world of Soul Masters, the body is often neglected. We rely on soul rings to make us faster and stronger. But rings are multipliers."
He picked up a small rock.
"If your base strength is 10, and your ring multiplies it by 2, your total is 20. But if your base strength is 50, that same ring makes you 100."
He tossed the rock aside.
"We are going to increase your base."
He kicked the wooden crate open. Inside were heavy vests made of black iron mesh.
"Wear these," Arthev ordered. "Do not use soul power to support the weight. Only your muscles."
Yu Tianheng picked one up. He grunted. It was heavy, at least thirty kilograms. For a Soul Elder using soul power, it was nothing. But without soul power? It was a burden.
Dugu Yan frowned, lifting hers with distaste. "This is heavy. It will ruin my posture."
"It will save your life," Arthev corrected. "Put it on."
Once everyone was suited up, they looked like a squad of heavy infantry. Even the Graphite Brothers, who were naturally strong, felt the drag on their shoulders.
"Ten laps," Arthev said. "Go."
They started running.
The first lap was easy. They were elite athletes, after all.
The third lap was harder. The weight pressed down on their chests, making it hard to breathe.
By the fifth lap, Dugu Yan and Ye Lingling were lagging behind. Osler was panting heavily. Only Yu Tianheng and the Graphite Brothers were keeping a steady pace.
Arthev ran at the front. He wasn't wearing a vest from the crate. He was wearing his usual black uniform. He ran with a smooth, rhythmic stride, his breathing silent.
"Pick up the pace," Arthev called out over his shoulder. "You are running like turtles."
"We are tortoises!" Shi Mo yelled back, sweat pouring down his face. "There is a difference!"
"Run faster, tortoise!"
By the eighth lap, Dugu Yan collapsed. Her legs simply gave out. She hit the dirt, gasping for air.
"I... can't..." she wheezed.
Ye Lingling stopped beside her, her face pale. "Teacher Qin... isn't this too much? Without soul power, our bodies can't handle this stress."
Arthev stopped. He turned around and walked back to them. He didn't look tired. He didn't even have a drop of sweat on his forehead.
"You are right," Arthev said. "Your muscles are tearing. Your lactic acid is building up. Your lungs are burning."
He looked at Ye Lingling.
"Heal her."
Ye Lingling blinked. "Now?"
"Yes. Heal her fatigue. Heal her muscles. Reset her body to peak condition."
Ye Lingling summoned her Nine Heart Begonia. White light washed over Dugu Yan. The serpent girl took a deep breath, the color returning to her face. The pain in her legs vanished.
"I feel... fine," Dugu Yan said, standing up in surprise.
"Good," Arthev said. "Now finish the last two laps. Then we do ten more."
The team stared at him in horror.
"This is the method," Arthev explained, his voice cold and logical. "We break the muscle fibers. We heal them instantly. We break them again. This cycle usually takes days of rest. But with the Nine Heart Begonia, we can compress a month of training into an afternoon."
He looked at Ye Lingling.
"You are the engine of this training, Lingling. As long as you have soul power, they cannot stop. And you... you will drain your soul power until you pass out. That is your training."
It was brutal. It was torture. But it was efficient.
For the next four hours, the West Courtyard became a living hell. The Royal Team ran until they vomited. They did push-ups until their arms shook. They did squats until they couldn't stand.
Every time they collapsed, Ye Lingling healed them. And Arthev made them start again.
"Why..." Osler gasped, lying on his back while Lingling healed him for the tenth time.
"Why aren't you... tired? You're running... with us..."
Arthev stood over them. The sun was setting, casting long shadows.
"You think I am not wearing weights?" Arthev asked.
He unbuttoned the high collar of his black uniform. Underneath, he wore a strange, dark grey undershirt. It looked thin.Almost fragile.
Osler sat up, his bird-like eyes narrowing. Dugu Yan stopped massaging her legs. Even the Graphite Brothers, who had been silent through the entire ordeal, lifted their heads.
"You've been... wearing weights?" Yu Tianheng pushed himself onto his elbows. His arms were trembling. "The entire time?"
"Since I woke up this morning," Arthev confirmed. "Breakfast. Sparring. Running. Everything."
Shi Mu let out a disbelieving laugh. "No way. That shirt is paper-thin."
Arthev's expression didn't change.
'Shukaku,' Arthev said internally. 'Release the magnetic bind for a moment.'
'Sure thing, kid. Watch your toes.'
Arthev unclipped the undershirt and let it drop to the ground.
BOOM.
The ground shook.
A cloud of dust puffed up. The undershirt didn't just fall; it slammed into the earth, embedding itself three inches into the hardened stone floor of the training ground. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the impact site.
Silence.
Complete. Absolute. Deathly silence.
Osler's jaw dropped. It literally fell open. His water bottle slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground, but he didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on the crater where the shirt had landed.
"That's..." he whispered. His voice cracked. "That's not... that's impossible."
Dugu Yan's face went pale. Not her usual pale, white. Whiter than her serpent scales. Her elegant composure shattered completely as she scrambled backward on her hands, away from the impact crater.
"Three hundred kilograms," she breathed. "At least. At least."
"More," Shi Mo said, his deep voice barely above a whisper. He was staring at the cracks in the stone. Stone that was supposed to be reinforced by defensive formations.
"The ground is rated for heavy combat. That shirt just... punched through it."
Shi Mu stood up slowly. His massive frame, usually so solid and unmovable, actually swayed. "Brother," he said. "That thing weighs more than both of us. Combined."
"Yes," Shi Mo replied. "I know."
Ye Lingling had stopped mid-heal. Her Nine Heart Begonia hovered forgotten in the air, its glow fading. She was staring at the crater, then at Arthev's back, then back at the crater.
He had been running with that.
He had been sparring with that.
She thought about the morning. About how Arthev had moved. The speed. The precision. The way he had deflected Yu Tianheng's lightning-enhanced strikes like they were nothing.
"You were holding back," she said. Her voice was hollow. "This morning... you were holding back."
Arthev didn't deny it.
Qin Ming, who had been observing from the sidelines with his arms crossed, slowly lowered his hands. His composed expression finally cracked. For the first time since becoming their teacher, he looked genuinely taken aback.
"Arthev," Qin Ming said carefully. "What exactly is that shirt?"
"Training equipment," Arthev replied simply.
He walked over to the crater and picked the undershirt up with one hand. One hand. Like it was made of cotton.
He dusted it off. The stone fragments fell away like sand.
"I have been wearing this since I woke up. While I ate breakfast. While I fought you this morning. And while I ran with you just now."
He put it back on. The clasps clicked into place. His posture didn't change. His shoulders didn't slump. His breathing didn't quicken.
He put it back on like it was a normal shirt.
Yu Tianheng stared.
The Captain of the Royal Team. The pride of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon clan. The young man who had never doubted his own strength for a single day in his life.
He stared at Arthev. At the calm, composed, normal way the Eighth Member stood there.
His pride, which had been taking a beating all day, suddenly shattered completely.
Not cracked. Not weakened.
Shattered.
Fragments of it scattered across the training ground like the stone dust still settling around them. Every victory he had ever won. Every opponent he had ever defeated. Every time someone called him a genius, a prodigy, the future of his clan.
All of it felt like nothing.
Because this boy had been carrying a mountain on his back all day and had still made them look like amateurs.
Then, something strange happened.
Yu Tianheng's shattered pride didn't leave him empty. It left him... free.
He looked at Arthev. Really looked at him. Not as a rival to surpass. Not as an enemy to defeat. But as a summit.
A mountain he had never known existed.
Yu Tianheng stood up. His legs were shaking. His arms were sore. His chest was burning.
But he stood.
"He is a monster," Yu Tianheng whispered.
"No," Arthev corrected, fastening his collar.
"I am an observer. I tested the limits of the human body, and I found that they are much higher than you think."
He looked at the exhausted group.
"Training is dismissed for the afternoon. Go eat. Meditate. Tomorrow, we increase the weight."
Ye Lingling sat on the grass, her soul power completely drained. She looked at Arthev. He walked over and offered her a hand.
"You did well," he said softly. "Managing the healing for seven people is not easy."
She took his hand. It was rough, calloused, and warm. She pulled herself up.
"You are a slave driver," she muttered, but there was no bite in her voice.
"I am just a man ," Arthev smiled. " tuning the engine."
As the team hobbled toward the cafeteria, they were in pain. They were exhausted.
But as Yu Tianheng flexed his hand, he felt something strange. His grip felt tighter. His blood flowed smoother.
It was working.
To be continued.....