C.E. 62, Winter
Four in the morning, the sky still dark.
Nangong Wentian stood under the old locust tree in the backyard, stretching his limbs. His exhaled breath condensed into white mist in the cold air, quickly dissipating into the night.
A full year.
Since last autumn, for an entire year, he had appeared here promptly at four every morning. Whether in wind or rain, bitter cold or scorching heat, he had never missed a day.
Three hundred and sixty-five dawns, three hundred and sixty-five training sessions.
The results were evident.
He looked down at his arms—the once slender limbs now showed clear muscle definition. Calluses marked his palms, traces left by push-ups and equipment training. His endurance, strength, and flexibility far surpassed those of his peers.
But he knew it wasn't enough.
Physical conditioning was merely the foundation. Real combat required skill.
"Wentian!" Xiao Guang's voice called from the back door.
Nangong Wentian turned to see Xiao Guang running over, bundled in a thick, old cotton-padded jacket. At seventeen, Xiao Guang had grown significantly taller, now nearly a head taller than him. Yet, trailing behind him, he still looked just as he had ten years ago.
"You're always earlier than me," Xiao Guang grumbled, starting to take off his coat. "I definitely set an alarm."
Nangong Wentian smiled but didn't reply. Xiao Guang had been training with him this past year. Though not as relentless, his progress was also noticeable. The once frail youth now had solid muscles on his frame.
"What are we practicing today?" Xiao Guang asked, stretching.
Instead of answering, Nangong Wentian pulled a small tablet from his pocket—one he had assembled himself from spare parts, connected to the Star Core 2.0. He opened a folder containing a series of video clips.
Xiao Guang leaned in to look, his eyes wide.
"What's this?"
"Martial arts," Nangong Wentian pointed at the screen. "Techniques for combat."
On the screen, a person demonstrated a set of fist techniques—movements swift and fierce, techniques concise, each punch and kick aimed directly at vital points. It was Baji Quan, a style he had watched countless videos of online in his previous life.
Xiao Guang was mesmerized. Though he didn't understand the meaning behind the moves, he could sense they were powerful.
"Wentian," he couldn't help but ask, "where did you get this?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment and said, "From books. I memorized it."
"Books?" Xiao Guang scratched his head. "What kind of books are this amazing?"
Nangong Wentian didn't explain. Instead, he handed the tablet over. "Watch it once through first, then I'll teach you."
Xiao Guang took the tablet and began watching intently.
Nangong Wentian walked to the center of the open space, closed his eyes, and mentally rehearsed the movements.
Those videos he had watched in his past life were originally just for leisure. But after crossing over, those memories were preserved intact, stored within the Star Core. He could retrieve them anytime, study them repeatedly, and break them down into their most basic movement units.
Baji Quan. Sanda. Qin Na. Jujutsu.
The techniques from different schools merged and reconstructed in his mind, forming a combat system tailored for himself.
"Finished watching?" He opened his eyes and asked Xiao Guang.
Xiao Guang nodded, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "That was incredible! How did those people do it?"
Nangong Wentian didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Come, I'll teach you the first move."
He assumed a stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, fists clenched at his waist.
"This is called the horse stance," he said. "It's the foundation of all movements."
Xiao Guang imitated him and squatted down.
"Don't let your knees go past your toes. Keep your back straight and your eyes forward," Nangong Wentian instructed while adjusting his posture.
Xiao Guang gritted his teeth and held on, but he began trembling in less than a minute.
"Wentian, how... how long do I have to stand like this?"
"Start with five minutes."
Xiao Guang nearly collapsed.
But he didn't give up. Clenching his teeth, his whole body shaking, sweat dripping from his forehead, he stubbornly held the stance for five full minutes.
"Alright, take a break," Nangong Wentian said.
Xiao Guang plopped down on the ground, panting heavily.
Nangong Wentian sat down beside him, gazing at the gradually brightening horizon.
"Xiao Guang," he suddenly said, "do you know why I practice this?"
Xiao Guang thought for a moment and replied, "To protect yourself?"
"More than that," Nangong Wentian shook his head. "It's to protect those I want to protect while strengthening myself."
Xiao Guang was taken aback.
Nangong Wentian looked into the distance and said softly, "This world is not peaceful. War will come sooner or later. When it does, many people will need protection."
Xiao Guang fell silent for a while, then said, "Then I'll practice too. I also have people I want to protect."
Nangong Wentian turned to look at him and smiled.
"Good."
In the days that followed, the two of them appeared in the backyard every day at four in the morning.
Starting with the most basic horse stance, punches, and kicks, they learned and practiced little by little.
Xiao Guang learned quickly. He had a natural sensitivity to movements and could mimic about seventy to eighty percent of what he saw after just one glance. Although his movements were stiff at first, they gradually became smoother after a few practices.
Nangong Wentian was no slower. With memories from his past life, he had a deeper understanding of the movements. He wasn't practicing flashy techniques but things that could truly be used.
Once, the two of them sparred.
Xiao Guang threw a punch, and Nangong Wentian sidestepped, following up with a sweeping kick. Xiao Guang tried to dodge but lost his balance and was swept to the ground.
"Ouch!" He lay on the ground, rubbing his sore backside. "Wentian, you're too harsh!"
Nangong Wentian reached out a hand and pulled him up.
"Again."
Xiao Guang got up, dusted himself off, and resumed his stance.
This time, he was smarter. Instead of attacking recklessly, he circled around Nangong Wentian, looking for an opening.
Nangong Wentian remained still, calmly watching him.
Xiao Guang spotted a gap and lunged forward, trying to grab him around the waist.
But Nangong Wentian seemed to have anticipated it. He sidestepped and raised his knee, striking Xiao Guang squarely in the abdomen.
"Ugh—" Xiao Guang clutched his stomach and doubled over.
"Again," Nangong Wentian said.
Xiao Guang caught his breath and stood up once more.
This time, he was even more cautious, testing with a few punches, all of which Nangong Wentian easily dodged.
"Wentian," he couldn't help but ask, "are you using your ability?"
Nangong Wentian paused for a moment, then nodded.
Not a guess, but perception. That subtle Newtype Ability was especially clear during sparring. He could sense what Xiao Guang was about to do next—not mind-reading, but a comprehensive judgment based on aura, muscle tension, and shifts in gaze.
"Again," he said.
The two practiced until dawn, when Sister Mary came to call them for breakfast.
"You two," Sister Mary looked at the two drenched in sweat and shook her head helplessly, "what are you up to again?"
"Exercising!" Xiao Guang answered eagerly. "Wentian says exercising more helps you grow taller!"
Sister Mary glanced at Xiao Guang, who was already a head taller than her, then at Nangong Wentian, who, though shorter, had clearly grown more solid. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes.
"Hurry and wash up, it's time to eat."
The two responded and ran back to the dormitory.
Sister Mary stood in the courtyard, watching their retreating figures, and sighed softly.
That child was becoming harder and harder to understand.
But for some reason, she always felt that whatever he did was right.
Days passed, and their sparring grew increasingly intense.
From clumsy probing at first, to back-and-forth exchanges later, and now to seamless coordination—every improvement was built upon countless mornings of sweat.
Sometimes, the other children would come to watch the excitement.
Sayuri, Xiao Wu, and a few younger ones squatted at the edge of the courtyard, watching the two spar, occasionally exclaiming in awe.
"Brother Xiao Guang is amazing!"
"Brother Wentian is even more amazing—he threw Brother Xiao Guang down in one move!"
Xiao Guang, thrown to the ground, heard the children's cheers and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Who exactly are you cheering for?"
The children burst into laughter.
Nangong Wentian walked over, helped Xiao Guang up, and then turned to the children.
"Do you want to learn?" he asked.
The children were stunned.
"If you want to learn, I can teach you."
Xiao Wu was the first to jump up. "I want to learn!"
The other children followed suit.
From that day on, the backyard became lively.
Every morning, besides Nangong Wentian and Xiao Guang, a group of children would join in the training. The youngest was only five, the oldest barely twelve or thirteen. They lined up in a row, clumsily practicing horse stances and throwing punches in response to Nangong Wentian's commands.
Nangong Wentian didn't teach them complex techniques, only the most basic things—stance, footwork, and fundamental ways to generate force.
"This is enough," he said to Xiao Guang. "If they ever face danger, they'll be able to use it."
Xiao Guang watched the children practicing earnestly, warmth swelling in his heart.
He knew that Wentian didn't just want to protect them—he wanted them to learn to protect themselves.
That night, after training ended, the two sat on the stone steps in the backyard to rest.
The moon was full, its light spilling into the courtyard like a layer of silver frost.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang suddenly said, "thank you."
Nangong Wentian turned to look at him.
"For what?"
Xiao Guang scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "For teaching me all this. And..." he paused, "for letting me follow you."
Nangong Wentian was silent for a moment, then said, "Xiao Guang, I should be the one thanking you."
Xiao Guang was taken aback.
"Without you," Nangong Wentian gazed at the moon and said softly, "I wouldn't have made it this far alone."
Xiao Guang opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came out.
The two of them sat there like that, gazing at the moon, neither speaking a word.
Under the moonlight, the shadows of the two boys stretched long and thin.
They were the shadows of brothers.
And also the shadows of warriors.
In the back kitchen, the screen of the "Star Core" quietly displayed a line of text:
—Training Log Day 365: Physical fitness standards met, basic combat skills acquired. Xiao Guang has shown significant progress, and other children have also begun participating. Newtype Ability has been preliminarily applied in sparring, allowing perception of opponents' intentions.
Note: Combat style incorporates elements of Baji Quan, emphasizing power, directness, and practicality. Hoping it can be used in the future to protect those who need protecting.
The cursor blinked on and off, like a distant star.
It was the warrior's first star.