Night fell on Faguniya. The two suns dipped low, and the land pulsed faintly under the stars.
Shakal sat cross-legged on a boulder, staring at the recruits sprawled across the ground, groaning in pain.
One disciple moaned, "Instructor… we'll die before reaching Foundation Realm…"
Another whimpered, "I feel like my bones are sandbags…"
Shakal smirked. "Sandbags? Good. Sandbags stop bullets. Maybe you'll actually be useful now."
They groaned louder.
But in truth, Shakal wasn't fully satisfied. Yes, he had disciplined rocks and rivers, yes, he'd crushed a sect—but something gnawed at him.
"These brats can't survive on borrowed strength," he muttered. "They need more than land discipline. They need a real method. My method."
The Idea Strikes
He clenched his fists, memories flashing—jogging with gear on his back, crawling under barbed wire, holding formation while shells fell around him.
He's is eyes lit up. "That's it… In my world, soldiers weren't born strong. They were trained. Broken down and reforged. Why can't cultivation be the same?"
He leapt to his feet. "Rookies! On your feet, now!"
The disciples scrambled up, trembling. "I-Instructor, it's midnight!"
"Midnight?" Shakal barked. "Perfect time. On the battlefield, do you think enemies wait until sunrise? No! The only sunrise you'll see is the one shining on your corpse if you slack off. Now line up!"
They whimpered, but obeyed.
The Drill
"Listen well," Shakal said, pacing like a wolf. "From today, we're done with sitting like lazy monks and humming while qi trickles into your belly. No! We'll forge qi the way soldiers forge steel—through sweat, pain, and unity!"
One disciple muttered, "Forge… qi?"
Shakal grinned. "Exactly. From today, you will march, breathe, and strike in rhythm. Each movement will hammer qi into your bones, harden your meridians, sharpen your senses. This is no meditation. This is The Soldier's Qi Manual!"
The disciples blinked. "...That sounds terrifying."
"Terrifying?" Shakal roared. "Good! Terror means growth. Fear means you're alive. Now—push-ups! Every breath, channel qi into your arms. When your arms collapse, imagine the enemy's blade at your throat and rise again!"
The recruits dropped, groaning as they pumped. Shakal stalked among them, barking.
"Too slow! Qi, not air!"
"You there, stop looking like a dying worm—straighten that back!"
"If your bones don't creak, you're not doing it right!"
The disciples gasped and screamed—but with every push, qi surged brighter inside them.
One gaped mid-push. "Instructor… my meridians… they're expanding!"
"Of course they are!" Shakal bellowed. "Pain is weakness leaving the body. Weak meridians? Break them! Forge new ones!"
Formation Training
Next came squats, synchronized punches, breathing drills. Each step linked qi circulation to physical exertion. The disciples, though half-dead, felt something new—qi flowing like marching soldiers, not chaotic wisps.
One disciple gasped. "My qi… it's obeying orders!"
Shakal grinned savagely. "Good. From today, your qi is not some lazy cat. It's a soldier. And I am its general."
The First Breakthrough
By dawn, sweat drenched the recruits. Their bodies shook, their lungs burned—but suddenly, one boy cried out.
"Instructor! I—I broke through! My qi core stabilized!"
Shakal smirked. "What rank?"
"Foundation… Foundation Realm!" the boy gasped.
The other disciples gawked. "But… it takes years of meditation to reach that!"
"And he did it in one night?!"
Shakal barked a laugh. "One night of discipline is worth ten years of sitting like statues. Remember that!"
The Divine Shock
Far above, divine spectators stirred again.
"This mortal… he just created a cultivation manual out of military drills…"
"Absurd. Cultivation is about harmony, not torture."
"And yet… look! His disciples advance faster than most sects."
The gods fell silent, unsettled.
Shakal's Declaration
As awn broke, Shakal stood before his battered recruits. His shadow stretched long, his grin savage.
"You thought cultivation was sitting under waterfalls and waiting for inspiration? Wrong. Cultivation is war against your own limits. War against weakness. And I—" he slammed his fist against his chest, voice booming like cannon fire—"I am your commander in that war!"
The disciples, trembling, dropped to one knee. "Commander Shakal!"
He raised a hand, the land pulsing with his will.
"From today, The Soldier's Qi Manual is our law. With it, we will carve Faguniya into the strongest fortress under heaven. With it, we will march not just against sects—but against gods themselves."
The valley roared in agreement, qi vibrating like a battlefield drum.
And far above, one divine voice whispered in awe:
"This mortal… is birthing a new path of cultivation. The Path of the Soldier God."