The early morning sunlight spilled across the courtyard of Nuoding Academy. A group of outer hall instructors stood in silence near the far edge of the training ground, each of them experienced spirit masters—not powerful enough to be famous, but each possessing solid real-world battle experience.
Tang San stood quietly in the center of the courtyard, alone.
He wore simple training robes and carried no weapons. His expression was calm, but his eyes were focused. Grandmaster stood a short distance away, arms behind his back, observing silently.
Today marked the beginning of a different kind of training.
Not beasts. Not cultivation. But people.
---
"You may begin."
Grandmaster's voice was quiet but final.
The first instructor stepped forward—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a heavy build and a martial spirit that took the shape of a bronze hammer. His spirit power was not overwhelming, only around the 17th rank, but his combat experience was leagues beyond Tang San's.
"Begin," the instructor said simply.
Tang San's Blue Silver Grass emerged instantly, wrapping around his forearm. He moved with speed and caution, circling left, using the narrow distance to avoid the hammer's wide range of strikes.
But experience was its own kind of cultivation.
The instructor didn't strike first—he baited.
Tang San fell for it.
He stepped in slightly, angling for a trap, and the hammer swung horizontally with crushing momentum.
Tang San dodged, barely. His grass lashed out—but it was blocked, and the instructor kicked him in the chest before he could recover.
Tang San hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and immediately got back to his feet. He didn't complain. Didn't grimace.
He just adjusted his breathing and tried again.
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Combat is Cruel
The fight lasted less than three minutes. Tang San lost.
But he learned.
The next fight began after a five-minute break. A different instructor. Different martial spirit. This one used a vine whip and moved with deceptive speed.
Tang San adapted quickly.
He didn't try to win. He tried to last.
His Blue Silver Grass moved defensively, controlling space rather than attacking. The battle dragged on, and though he still lost, this time it took nearly seven minutes.
By the third round, Tang San began to see patterns—subtle habits in his opponents, small tells before each strike.
By the fourth round, he no longer collapsed from exhaustion after each bout.
By the fifth round, he managed to knock one instructor back with a well-placed trap using his grass and footwork.
He still lost.
But that didn't matter.
---
That Night
Tang San sat in the bathhouse alone, body covered in bruises. His ribs ached with each breath. His arms were sore from blocking and maneuvering. But inside, he felt alive.
He hadn't cultivated today. Not formally.
But every second of combat was a kind of cultivation. His senses had grown sharper. His decisions faster. The Mysterious Heaven Technique pulsed quietly in his core, helping him absorb recovery from the environment even without meditating.
And beneath it all, the black stone remained silent.
Yet somehow… it was working.
He could feel the way spirit energy flowed through his injuries. The way his spiritual network adjusted slightly after each battle, almost as if learning how to better distribute power.
He was improving.
Slowly.
But truly.
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Grandmaster's Observation
From a distance, Grandmaster had watched each battle. He didn't offer praise. He didn't give advice.
But in his heart, he was satisfied.
"Adaptation rate… faster than I expected," he murmured.
Tang San was not the most talented spirit master in the world. But his will, his judgment, and his tolerance for pain—those were rare.
He didn't break when defeated.
He simply tried again.
---
The Days That Followed
Over the next week, Tang San fought a total of twenty-three matches. He lost twenty of them.
But each loss was closer than the one before.
His body became accustomed to reacting before thinking. His footwork improved. His Blue Silver Grass became more flexible in battle—responding to sudden commands in unpredictable patterns.
And finally, on the morning of the eighth day—
He won.
Not against a weak instructor.
But against one of the most seasoned.
He didn't win through power. He won through positioning, timing, and precise energy control. He used his Blue Silver Grass to delay a strike just long enough to slip behind the instructor and trip him using a sweep he'd learned by watching others.
The courtyard fell silent.
The instructor smiled faintly from the ground and stood up. "Good. You're learning."
Tang San didn't smile. He simply bowed. "Thank you for the guidance."
Grandmaster, standing far away, simply nodded.
---
A New Stage
That night, Tang San sat under the stars on the edge of the academy roof. Xiao Wu had come looking for him earlier, but sensing his need for space, she'd left without a word.
He was thankful for that.
He needed time to think.
His body was exhausted, but his mind was alert. He could feel the growing density of spirit power within him. He hadn't yet reached the second ring threshold, but it was coming—slowly, like a tide drawing closer to shore.
The Mysterious Heaven Technique was now running more smoothly than ever. The increase in his cultivation wasn't drastic, but the control and refinement of each strand of power had deepened.
The spirit power he possessed now was more efficient, more compact, and more harmonized with his body.
When he finally did break through, his foundation would be firm.
And that made all the difference.
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Unseen Shadows
Elsewhere, far beyond Nuoding City, the mysterious man who had given him the black stone stood atop a ruined cliff, gazing at the sky. His body flickered, nearly translucent.
"The plane's restrictions are too strong," he murmured. "I can't stay."
He looked down at his hands as they began to dissolve into motes of light.
"It'll be twenty-five years before I can return."
He closed his eyes.
"Boy… live well. You may not understand what you've inherited, but someday, you will."
And with that, he vanished.
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End of Chapter