Night settled quietly over Dragon Yuan Mountain.
The winds had grown colder, carrying with them the faint chill unique to high altitudes. The courtyard outside Lin Sheng's residence lay still, bathed in pale moonlight. Shadows stretched across the stone ground, unmoving, like silent watchers.
Inside his room—
A dull thud echoed.
Then another.
And another.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Lin Sheng's figure moved in the dim light, his bare feet planted firmly against the ground. His body twisted, shoulders turning, waist driving forward as his fist shot out in a straight line.
Each strike—
Direct.
Heavy.
Without hesitation.
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 81%]
The translucent interface flickered faintly in his vision.
Lin Sheng did not stop.
His breathing was controlled.
Inhale—
Exhale—
Strike.
The rhythm stabilized.
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 84%]
A thin layer of sweat coated his skin.
His arms felt slightly sore.
But his movements—
Were becoming sharper.
More precise.
This was the advantage of the chip.
Not talent.
Not enlightenment.
But—
Perfect correction.
Every angle.
Every degree.
Every shift of muscle.
Nothing was wasted.
Nothing was inefficient.
"Again."
His foot slid forward slightly.
Weight transferred.
Waist turned.
Fist exploded outward.
"Bang!"
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 88%]
A faint ripple traveled through his arm.
From fist—
To wrist—
To elbow—
To shoulder—
Then down into his core.
Lin Sheng's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Force transmission is improving."
This was not written explicitly in the manual.
But the chip—
Had already broken it down.
Every strike—
Was not just a movement.
It was a chain.
A system.
A structure of force.
And now—
He was beginning to understand it.
Time passed.
The moon climbed higher.
His strikes did not slow.
If anything—
They became faster.
More stable.
More natural.
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 91%]
Lin Sheng stepped back.
Then forward.
Another punch.
"Bang!"
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 93%]
A faint tremor ran through his arm.
Not instability.
But power.
Unrefined.
Yet present.
He stopped.
His chest rose and fell steadily.
Sweat dripped from his chin onto the ground.
But his expression—
Remained calm.
"…Almost."
He raised his arm again.
Adjusted his stance slightly.
The chip projected a faint overlay—
Correcting posture.
Aligning joints.
Optimizing motion.
Then—
He struck.
"BANG!"
The sound was sharper this time.
Heavier.
Cleaner.
[Vajra Fist Accuracy: 97%]
Lin Sheng froze for a moment.
Then slowly—
Lowered his fist.
"…Close to proficiency."
In just a single night.
If someone else saw this—
They would not believe it.
Even those with talent—
Would require weeks.
Months.
But Lin Sheng—
Had crossed that gap—
In hours.
"…Again."
He didn't stop.
Didn't celebrate.
Didn't hesitate.
Because he understood something clearly—
This wasn't mastery.
This was only—
The beginning.
By the time dawn arrived—
The courtyard had changed.
Small cracks appeared on the stone floor.
Shallow.
But noticeable.
Lin Sheng stood in the center.
Breathing slowly.
His arms trembled slightly.
Muscles sore.
Body fatigued.
But his eyes—
Clear.
Focused.
The interface appeared.
[Vajra Fist Technique]
[Proficiency Level: Proficient (Complete)]
[Accuracy Stabilization: 95%]
[Estimated Advancement: Mastered achievable within 5–7 days]
Lin Sheng exhaled.
"…Done."
Two days.
It had only taken two days.
He looked down at his hands.
"…This body…"
Was still weak.
Still far from powerful.
But now—
It had direction.
"Crystal."
[Yes, Host]
"…Analyze physical improvement."
[Analyzing…]
A brief pause.
Then—
[Constitution Increase: +2.8%]
[Muscle Density: Slight Improvement]
[Explosive Output: +12%]
Lin Sheng nodded slightly.
"…Acceptable."
Not dramatic.
But real.
And more importantly—
Repeatable.
He rolled his shoulders slightly.
A faint stiffness remained.
"…Still too fragile."
If he pushed harder—
He might injure himself.
And that—
Would slow everything down.
He turned.
Walked toward the basin.
Washed his face.
Cold water ran across his skin.
Washing away sweat.
Fatigue.
But not—
The growing sense of clarity within him.
He stepped outside.
Morning light had begun to spread across the mountain.
Birds chirped faintly.
Wind stirred gently.
As he began walking down the path—
Something caught his attention.
Voices.
Not far ahead.
Three figures stood near a bend in the stone road.
Two boys.
One girl.
Their robes marked them as members of the Lin Family.
Lin Sheng slowed slightly.
Not out of curiosity.
But instinct.
"…Lin Shou."
He recognized one of them.
From the Spirit Testing Hall.
"…You should know your place."
The voice was sharp.
Mocking.
It came from the second boy.
Well-dressed.
Confident.
Arrogant.
The third—
The girl—
Stood slightly behind him.
Silent.
Hesitant.
"Yun'er has already chosen," the arrogant youth continued.
"She won't waste her future on someone like you."
Lin Shou clenched his fists.
His expression seems strained.
"…Su Yun… is that true?"
His voice was low.
Almost hoarse.
The girl lowered her head.
She didn't answer immediately.
But her silence—
Was already an answer.
The arrogant youth smirked.
"You heard her."
"She needs someone with a future."
"And you—"
He sneered.
"Have none."
Lin Sheng watched quietly.
From a distance.
No emotion.
No reaction.
"…This is normal."
In this world—
Strength determined everything.
Affection.
Loyalty.
Promises—
All of it—
Could be broken—
If power wasn't there to support it.
Lin Shou stood still.
For a long moment.
Then—
He turned.
And walked away.
No shouting.
No struggle.
Just—
Silence.
Lin Sheng shifted his gaze slightly.
"…Pathetic."
Not as an insult.
But as a statement.
Without strength—
Even dignity—
Was fragile.
He continued walking.
Past them.
Without stopping.
"…Irrelevant."
By the time he reached the Wu Pavilion—
The city was already bustling.
He entered.
The familiar calm greeted him.
Old Liang sat behind the counter.
As always—
Half-asleep.
"Old Liang."
Lin Sheng spoke casually.
"…Mm."
Same response.
Lin Sheng placed the booklet on the counter.
"Vajra Fist Technique. I'm returning it."
Old Liang opened one eye slightly.
"…Four days."
His gaze lingered briefly.
"…Fast."
Lin Sheng didn't respond.
Old Liang reached out.
Took the booklet.
Recorded it.
Then—
Paused.
"…How far?"
His tone—
Still lazy.
But something deeper—
Hidden beneath it.
Lin Sheng answered simply.
"Proficient."
Silence.
Old Liang's hand stopped mid-motion.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then—
He resumed writing.
"…Oh."
A casual response.
But—
Too casual.
"…Pick another?"
Lin Sheng nodded.
"I want a movement technique."
Old Liang tilted his head slightly.
"…Right shelf. End row."
Lin Sheng turned.
Walked back.
His eyes scanned the shelves again.
Until—
He found it.
(Eight-Step Cicada Movement)
He picked it up.
Flipped through it briefly.
Light.
Agile.
Focused on footwork.
Evasion.
Speed.
"…Good complement."
He returned to the counter.
Placed it down.
Old Liang looked at it.
Then at him.
"…Too many techniques… wastes time."
Lin Sheng shook his head slightly.
"…I'll manage."
Old Liang stared at him for a moment.
Then—
Closed his eyes.
"…Suit yourself."
He recorded it.
Pushed it forward.
"…Seven days."
Lin Sheng picked it up.
Then—
Paused.
"…Old Liang."
"…Mm?"
"…If I master this one… will you explain something to me?"
A faint smile appeared on Old Liang's lips.
Barely visible.
"…We'll see."
Lin Sheng didn't press further.
He turned.
And left.
Behind him—
Old Liang opened his eyes fully.
For the first time.
"…Interesting…"
His gaze lingered on the empty doorway.
"…Four days… proficient…"
He tapped the counter lightly.
"…Let's see how far you go, boy."