Shakal marched forward, the two trembling cultivators panting behind him. Their robes were dusty, their hair disheveled, their pride in pieces.
"Fifty push-ups, I said!" Shakal barked.
The boys groaned, their arms shaking as they struggled against the dirt.
"Instructor," one whined, "our qi is running low!"
"Qi, my ass!" Shakal thundered. "In my world, men carried thirty kilos on their backs, ran in the desert, and still had enough breath to curse their sergeant. You call yourselves cultivators? Right now, you're worms on vacation!"
The cultivators flinched.
The stronger one dared to mutter, "But Instructor… this isn't cultivation. Where are the mystical breathing patterns? The ancient chants?"
Shakal glared at him. "Chants? You want chants?" He leaned down, his face inches away, voice cold as steel. "Fine. Repeat after me—'I will not collapse like a sack of rice.'"
The boy stammered. "I… I will not collapse like a sack of rice."
"Louder!"
"I WILL NOT COLLAPSE LIKE A SACK OF RICE!"
"Good. Now keep pushing, rookie!"
The qi around them quivered, as though even the heavens were obeying his drill-sergeant tone. Shakal smirked. Not bad. Even the air listens when I shout.
The Valley of Chaos
Hours later, Shakal left the boys half-dead in the dirt and marched deeper into the land. His soldier's instincts pulled him toward a barren valley where the wind howled like wolves.
The valley was broken, its rivers twisted, qi raging like a storm. No sane cultivator would step here. To Shakal, it was perfect.
"This is it," he murmured. "A wasteland with no discipline. Just like raw recruits—chaotic, sloppy, and loud. My kind of playground."
He clenched his fist. "Here, I'll forge my kingdom. My divine land. My Faguniya."
The ground rumbled at his words. The crimson seed he had absorbed earlier pulsed in his chest, glowing faintly. His vision blurred, and he saw the valley reshaping itself: jagged rocks shifting like soldiers falling into formation, streams aligning like neat marching lines.
[Divine Land Seed Responds: Faguniya Established.]
[Status: Rank 0 – Desolate Barracks.]
Shakal chuckled. "Desolate Barracks, huh? Heh. That's the perfect name for my first base."
Training the Land
Shakal stood at the center, his voice carrying through the valley.
"Listen up, you chaotic qi! You think you're wild? You think you can do whatever you want?" He jabbed a finger at the swirling mist. "Not anymore. From now on, you're soldiers. And I'm your commander. Form ranks!"
The qi shuddered, swirling faster. Shakal dropped into push-ups again, grunting with every breath. With each rep, he forced the qi to match his rhythm. One push—qi pulsed. Two pushes—qi aligned. Fifty pushes—qi marched like footsteps.
Sweat poured down his face, his arms screamed, but he grinned through the pain. "That's it. That's discipline. Now march, damn it!"
The valley's chaotic energy settled, flowing smoother than before. The land itself began to resonate with his heartbeat.
[Faguniya Qi Flow Stabilized: +10% Training Efficiency.]
Shakal sat up, laughing. "Hah! Even the land responds to drill training. I'll make this wasteland into the hardest boot camp under heaven."
The First Challenger
As night fell, a group of cultivators entered the valley, their robes marked with a local sect's emblem. At their lead, a sharp-eyed youth sneered.
"So the rumors were true. Some stray dog is barking in our sect's territory." His gaze swept the barren land. "And he dares name this trash heap a Divine Land?"
Shakal stood, wiping sweat from his brow. "Stray dog, huh? Better a dog with teeth than a chicken with fancy feathers."
The youth's face darkened. "You dare insult me? I am Liu Feiyan of the Crimson Lotus Sect! My fire lotus art has burned stronger men than you into ash!"
Shakal tilted his head, unimpressed. "Fire lotus, huh? Sounds like a decorative flower. Tell me, do you fight or do you just garden with fireworks?"
The Crimson Lotus disciples behind Feiyan snickered, quickly silenced by his glare. He raised his hand, flames bursting into a lotus shape. "Arrogant fool. Burn."
The fiery lotus roared toward Shakal. The disciples expected him to dodge or beg. Instead, Shakal stepped forward—straight into the flames.
The fire engulfed him, but when the smoke cleared, he was still standing, fists clenched, body smoking. His grin was feral.
"That's it? In my world, rookies cooked worse than this during training camp." He cracked his knuckles. "My turn."
He charged like a tank, his fist wrapped not in qi but in sheer disciplined will. His punch shattered the flaming lotus, slamming into Feiyan's chest and sending him flying into a boulder.
The Crimson Lotus disciples gasped. "I-Instructor… no, this monster…"
Shakal loomed over them, voice cold. "Listen up. This valley is mine now. From this day forward, it's not wasteland—it's Faguniya, the barracks of the Soldier God."
The disciples trembled. His presence crushed them harder than Feiyan's flame ever could.
Declaration of the Soldier God
As Feiyan coughed blood, Shakal barked, "You're weak because you have no discipline. You rely on flashy arts, but your foundation is rotten. Want to live? Then train in Faguniya. Follow my drills. Harden your bodies until even gods break their fists on you!"
One disciple whispered, "I… I feel my qi moving faster just by hearing him."
Another nodded. "His words… they're like commands to my soul."
Feiyan glared from the ground, humiliated but shaken. This man… he's no ordinary cultivator.
Shakal crossed his arms, gaze like a general surveying his troops. His voice boomed across the valley:
"Remember this name. I am Shakal. Soldier of a dead world, founder of Faguniya, and soon—Soldier God. Those who follow me will become unbreakable. Those who oppose me…"
He grinned savagely. "...will be crushed under my march."
The night wind howled, carrying his declaration across the land. Somewhere far above, divine spectators whispered with interest.
And thus began the training ground of gods.