rule one

Chapter 14: Daily Training

The next morning, everyone go back to their routines as though the events of the previous day had never occurred.

Jin Eryndor was happily savoring the breakfast prepared by his mother, Serene Skyshade. The dining table, with its three occupants quietly enjoying their meal, exuded a serene and refined atmosphere.

Suddenly, Jin Eryndor broke the silence, saying, "Father, I need your help to make something!"

As he spoke, he handed over a sketch— a diagram of a cable-pulley weight machine that he had recreated from memory of his time on Earth.

Jin Valen accepted the sketch, studied it briefly, and said, "The design is quite straightforward. Dori, you want to use this device for your physical training?"

Eryndor quickly coughed and clarified, "Father, it's not some complex artifact. Just forge it from regular iron. The important thing is to make plenty of these weights so I can adjust them for different levels of resistance."

Jin Valen nodded, saying, "Alright. I'll have it ready and bring it back tonight." The design Eryndor provided was incredibly simple; Jin Valen understood it at a glance. Having worked on much more intricate designs in the past, this request felt trivial. He was more than happy to oblige his son's request for a training tool. As long as Eryndor stayed focused and disciplined, he was content to support him.

After finishing breakfast, Jin Valen left for the central peak. Jin Eryndor and his mother, Serene Skyshade, remained behind, enjoying her tea break, their morning routine flowing seamlessly like clockwork.

Once the tea was finished, Jin Eryndor stood up, dusting himself off. "Mother, I'm heading out for my morning training," he announced.

Serene Skyshade nodded gently, her affectionate gaze following him. Since his birth, Eryndor had always exceeded all of her expectations. He never cried, caused trouble, or misused his family's status. Instead, he was diligent in reading, writing, and practicing his training, leaving her with little to worry about.

Jin Eryndor stepped into his personal training ground, his expression calm and focused. Stripping down to a simple pair of training pants, he began his warm-up routine with squats, push-ups, and jogging, methodically preparing his body for the day's training.

After about 15 minutes of warm-up, feeling his muscles loosened and his body warmed up, Eryndor then move to the next part: practicing the Foundational Claw Technique.

The Foundational Claw Technique was divided into two primary components:

Basic Grappling Combat Moves – A set of practical techniques for live combat.Foundational Flow Routine for Physical Training – A series of structured movements designed to build strength, precision, and flexibility in the practitioner.The flow routine was quite straightforward in principle but required relentless practice to master. It included movements like: Bowing Sweep Claw, Tearing Claw, Reverse Hook Claw, Rending Throat Claw and several other claw techniques, each simulating specific strikes or grappling motions. 

Eryndor repeated each movement over and over again, his claws cutting through the air with dedication and precision. Every motion was deliberate and sharp, his muscles tightening and relaxing in rhythm. He understood that mastery came from consistent, repetitive practice until these movements became his second nature—achieved only when the technique reached the state of effortless execution, known as perfection through repetition.

The Foundational Claw Technique emphasized three critical principles:

Speed: The claw must strike as swiftly as an eagle snatching its prey.Precision: Every strike must hit its intended mark with deadly accuracy.Ferocity: Each motion must carry the force of a tiger clawing its target's heart.To meet these standards, every movement demanded full engagement of the practitioner's muscles and unwavering focus. Only with total commitment could the technique serve its dual purpose: effective training and formidable combat execution.

The progression of mastery for the technique was defined as:

Beginner Level (Entry): The practitioner could execute the complete sequence of movements with basic speed and form, striking powerfully enough to demonstrate foundational strength.Intermediate Level (Small Success): The practitioner's claws could cut through the air with a sharp whistling sound, completing the motions within a blink of an eye, with all muscle groups working in unison.Advanced Level (Great Success): With two blinks of an eye, strikes not only created audible bursts but also engaged muscle coordination seamlessly, leading to precision and power that appeared natural.Mastery (Perfection): Within three blinks, every strike was lightning-quick, harmoniously blending muscle movements, energy concentration, and seamless coordination to form a flawless, fearsome attack.Jin Eryndor began to practice his moves. Though his memory and sharp focus allowed him to replicate the motions accurately, there was still a stiffness in his execution—minor missteps that prevented him from achieving fluidity. Yet, his efforts were unmistakable. As he repeated movements like Bow Sweep Claw and Tearing Claw, the strikes took shape, gaining a sense of power and intent. His form was strong, and his resolve unyielding, but he knew he had much to refine.

After completing one round of the Foundational Claw Technique for body strengthening, Jin Eryndor stood still, calming his breath and reflecting on his movements. He realized that the core of the training lay in the Crouch Step and Direct Claw Strike, a motion repeated most often and considered the essence of the technique. Jin faintly felt that mastering this fundamental move would be key to excelling in claw techniques.

Once his mind was clear, he resumed practicing the routine repeatedly. After each round, Jin took time to reflect on the strengths and flaws in his execution, making adjustments to improve in the next iteration.

Body strengthening training, or physique cultivation, demanded a significant expenditure of physical energy, using stamina and focus to temper the body. Jin Eryndor had the advantage of an exceptional starting point—his mother, Serene Skyshade, was in the Nascent Soul stage, and from birth, he had consumed her enriched milk. Once he transitioned to solid foods, he was fed medicinal meals. These circumstances provided a perfect foundation, preventing him from becoming a "Chubby Dori," overnourished without discipline.

Thanks to his diligence and strong foundation, Jin could repeatedly practice the claw technique, each session pushing his body closer to exhaustion. Yet, after a brief rest, he would resume, fully immersed in his training and showing unrelenting determination.

What Jin Eryndor didn't yet realize was how extraordinary his circumstances were. In this world, humans had inherently weaker bodies compared to other races, and it was only through cultivation with spiritual energy that physical transformation and strength could be achieved. For most people, even basic sustenance was a struggle, let alone the resources needed for martial arts training.

The saying "wealth fosters strength" wasn't just a proverb—it was the reality. Martial artists consumed massive amounts of food and required expensive medicinal ingredients for proper training. Ordinary families could scarcely afford these costs. Only those with incredible luck or extraordinary circumstances—like a guiding elder or a miraculous inheritance—could hope to compete with the privileged children of wealthy families.

Without those benefits, the less fortunate were left struggling right from the start, making it almost impossible to keep up. Their journey was like trying to push a snowball uphill, while the wealthy prodigies raced ahead with ease, carried by the downhill momentum of their advantages. That's why most of the cultivation world's brightest stars came from powerful families or influential clans.

From a young age, Jin Eryndor was dedicated to rigorous training. His physical strength was at least double that of other children his age. This didn't just mean he could handle twice the workload—it meant he could handle three or even four other children as much if they want to fight him. It was like in a game, where a high stat advantage lets a single character overpower others. Without the right power level, even a group of two or three players would struggle to defeat a boss, often needing the entire guild to succeed.

Jin's robust body also strengthened his mind, further enhanced by his natural advantage as a reincarnated individual. His mental resilience far surpassed that of other children his age, allowing him to resist fatigue more effectively. This, in turn, let him practice foundational body-strengthening techniques more frequently.

While an average person might tire out after practicing the technique three times, Jin Eryndor could repeat it five, six, or even seven times. Over time, this consistent effort created an enormous difference in progress. And let's not forget—he wasn't even two years old yet.

After a long morning of practicing claw techniques, Jin Eryndor was completely exhausted, sprawled on the ground and panting heavily. It took several calls from his mother, Serene Skyshade, before he groaned in response.

Serene approached quickly, her face full of worry. Seeing him lying on the ground, tongue out and gasping for air, she let out a startled cry: "Oh no! Dori, what happened to you?"

She hurried closer and sent a pulse of spiritual energy into his body. The energy flowed through him, scanning for any problems. Only after confirming that he was unharmed did Serene let out a sigh of relief. "Dori, what kind of crazy training are you doing to wear yourself out like this? Don't you know overexerting your vitality before age six can stunt your growth?"

Eryndor gave a wry smile and replied, "Mother, I was careful. I didn't overuse my essence. I just pushed myself to complete one extra round of foundational training, and it was a bit too much."

"Hmph!" Serene huffed, channeling more spiritual energy to help him recover. Then she scooped him up and flew back home.

When they arrived, Jin Valen was already there. He looked up and, seeing Serene carrying Eryndor, raised an eyebrow with a teasing grin. "Well, well, isn't this a surprise? My little Eryndor, who insists he's too grown-up to let his mother carry him, is making an exception today?"

It was true—Jin Eryndor usually refused to be carried. As a former shut-in, he had a certain sense of pride and felt embarrassed being coddled. Ever since he'd learned to walk, he'd avoided being carried, much to his mother's occasional disappointment.

Eryndor glared at his father, Jin Valen, for a moment and muttered, "Father, why do I feel like you're enjoying this a bit too much? Can you not laugh at someone else's suffering?"

"Hahaha," Jin Valen burst out laughing. "Alright, alright, come on, it's time to eat." As he spoke, he casually cast a basic cleansing spell.

The grime and sweat covering Jin Eryndor's body were wiped away instantly, but he didn't feel entirely refreshed. "Magic isn't everything," he thought. He still decided to take a proper bath before heading back to the dining table to eat.

Chapter 15: Daily Training 2

After finishing the meal, Jin Valen glanced at Eryndor and clicked his tongue in mock appraisal. "Tsk tsk, Dori, you look so full of spirit. At your age, other kids are still playing in the mud."

Eryndor, not one to be humble, replied confidently, "Father, that goes without saying. I'm the son of two Nascent Soul cultivators. How could I stoop to playing in the mud? With my knowledge, I could ace a top scholar examination with ease."

Jin Valen raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Quite the confidence, huh? You haven't stepped out of this house, like a proper little lady. How do you even know about taking scholar exams?"

"It's all in the books. Nothing surprising there," Eryndor retorted, his tone casual but clearly exaggerating. In truth, he was relying on memories from his past life—there was no mention of scholar exams in the sect's library.

Jin Valen chuckled, clearly not letting it go.

"Oh really? You do realize that to pass as a scholar, one needs to excel in poetry, literature, and philosophy. Looking at you, I'd bet you'd stumble on the poetry part. And let's not forget, neither your mother nor I are exactly talented in writing verses."

It was true. Both Jin Valen and Serene Skyshade had minimal talent in poetry. They could dabble a bit, but calling them proficient would be an overstatement.

Jin Eryndor, realizing his boasting was on the verge of being exposed, quickly sought to justify himself.

"Father, just because you and Mother don't have the skill doesn't mean I lack it. I feel like my poetry is quite good. Just wait—when I'm older, I'll take the scholar's exam and make our family proud!"

Jin Valen burst into laughter. Making the family proud by earning recognition from a mortal dynasty was a concept that only applied to commoners. To cultivators like him, a mortal empire was nothing more than a passing speck—easily destroyed if one wished. Still, Jin Valen wasn't a demonic cultivator who indiscriminately slaughtered innocents, so he let the thought pass.

Serene Skyshade found her son's antics quite entertaining. Jin Eryndor, who seemed to have picked up boasting from somewhere, was proving amusing. Bragging might not be the best trait for a cultivator, but his bold aspirations of achieving glory through his accomplishments certainly set him apart from other sect elders' children. Encouraged by the playful atmosphere, she added,

"Well then, Eryndor, why don't you compose a poem for us?"

Jin Eryndor frowned slightly, realizing that he'd been cornered. He remembered a few poems from his past life, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to adapt one. After clearing his throat dramatically, he began to recite with flair:

"Father's love, a mountain reaching the skies,

Mother's care, an ocean that never dries.

The eastern seas cannot measure Mother's grace,

Nor can boundless skies cover Father's embrace."

The short, rhythmic poem, with its clear and heartfelt sentiment, beautifully conveyed the gratitude and reverence a child holds for their parents. It left an impression of simplicity yet profound affection.

"As people, we must never forget the kindness of those who gave us life and nurtured us. If we do, even the heavens will not forgive us. Life becomes an uphill battle, and we will be despised by all."

Jin Valen was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected his son, not even two years old, to truly compose a poem—let alone one that praised him as a father. His heart swelled with pride, and he thought, This child truly is my greatest blessing.

Serene Skyshade, meanwhile, was moved to tears. Her eyes glistened as she cried out,

"Oh, Dori, you're so intelligent and respectful. You've made your mother so happy!"

Without hesitation, she scooped him up and began showering his face with kisses.

Eryndor let out a small, helpless chuckle.

"Mother," he said, "there's no need to be so emotional. I just borrowed some words, that's all."

Jin Valen snapped out of his daze, laughing heartily. "Eryndor, your poem was excellent. Come here, your father has a reward for you!"

Hearing the promise of a reward, Jin Eryndor eagerly rushed over. Jin Valen scooped him up and planted a few kisses on his cheek.

Jin Eryndor frowned in mild annoyance. "Father, is this what you call a reward? I was expecting something... better."

"You don't like it?" Jin Valen asked with mock seriousness.

"It's not that I don't like it," Eryndor muttered, "but we're both grown men. Isn't this a bit much?"

Jin Valen's sharp ears caught his son's grumbling, and he roared with laughter. "Alright, alright, Dori . I'll head out now. But I must share your poem with the other elders later!" He walked out the door, still chuckling.

Realizing what might happen next, Jin Eryndor didn't linger in the house. If he stayed any longer, his mother might turn him into her "little puppy" and smother him with affection again. He quickly said, "Mother, I'm off to train!"

Without waiting for her reply, he darted into the courtyard.

The afternoon sun cast a gentle warmth over Skyshade Sanctum Sect, not too harsh but still bright. Jin Eryndor decided to focus on strength training instead of practicing the foundation claw techniques he had worked on in the morning. Why not train strength earlier in the day? Simple—he felt more productive practicing claw techniques in the morning, while physical conditioning seemed to yield better results in the afternoon.

At the training yard, a variety of stone training equipment lay neatly arranged on the ground, with weights carefully measured and labeled.

These tools were standard for manual laborers and outer disciples of the sect, and Jin Eryndor had asked his father to procure a full set for his personal use.

Picking up a 5kg stone dumbbell, Eryndor sat on a bench, resting his elbow on an inclined surface, and began his workout.

For him, 5kg was challenging—he could manage only three repetitions before his arms started to ache. Recognizing his limit, he stopped immediately to avoid overstraining. After a brief rest to let his blood flow and muscles recover, he switched to sit-ups.

Sit-ups were familiar territory, something he'd practiced frequently. Completing 100 reps was effortless, and even after reaching 500 reps, Eryndor felt only slightly fatigued. Taking another short break, he moved on to bench presses. Using a 10kg weight, he managed to push out five reps before pausing.

One by one, he cycled through all the stone training equipment, experimenting with different exercises as long as they didn't involve carrying weights on his back, which could hinder his growth. After finishing one round of exercises, he rested for five minutes before beginning the next.

Initially, his body was fresh and capable, and a five-minute break was sufficient to recover. However, as his muscles fatigued and lactic acid built up, the strain began to show. His body grew increasingly tired, and each subsequent round demanded longer recovery periods.

Despite the mounting exhaustion and the burning sensation in his muscles, Eryndor didn't relent. He kept pushing forward, exercising methodically from one station to the next, until the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of a long day of rigorous training.

Dragging his weary body back to the house, Jin Eryndor was greeted by his mother, Serene Skyshade, who was waiting by the door.

"Dori, take a quick bath and then soak in the herbal solution," she instructed.

"Herbal solution?" Eryndor asked, puzzled.

"Yes, an herbal soak. Training your body without properly replenishing it will only wear you down. Now go bathe first—I've already prepared the solution for you," Serene explained.

Approaching the tub, Eryndor noticed the liquid was cloudy and dark, with a faint warmth rising in steam, so it must have been freshly heated.

Suspicious, he asked, "Mother, is this really for body conditioning?"

"Of course," Serene replied with a gentle smile.

"Body conditioning depletes your energy and vitality. For someone older, proper meals would suffice, but soaking in a strengthening herbal solution speeds up recovery and improves results. However, since you're still so young, skipping this step could permanently harm your body from overtraining. Now get in, and remember—bear with it, no matter what."

Eryndor froze for a moment, doubting, "Bear with it? No matter what? This sounds dangerous..."

Serene chuckled lightly, reassuring him, "It's not dangerous, just uncomfortable at first. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Jin Eryndor hesitated by the edge of the tub, his gaze flickering between his mother and the ominous-looking liquid. He swallowed nervously.

"Just uncomfortable?" he repeated cautiously. "Mother, could you be a bit more ..... precise?"

Serene Skyshade raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips quirking up in amusement.

"Uncomfortable as in... a bit tingly. Maybe it'll feel like your skin is warming up—or perhaps like tiny needles prickling at you. But it's nothing to worry about, Dori. It's all part of the process. You'll get used to it."

Eryndor wasn't convinced. "Tiny needles? That doesn't sound reassuring at all! You're telling me to just hop into this mysterious concoction that looks like swamp water and let it stab me with imaginary needles?"

Serene's amusement grew as she patted his shoulder. "It only sounds worse than it is. Trust me, you'll come out feeling refreshed, and your training will be more effective. Now stop overthinking it and get in."

Still skeptical, Eryndor sighed dramatically and muttered under his breath, "I'd better not come out of this as a boiled dumpling..." before stepping cautiously into the tub.

Encouraged but cautious, Jin Eryndor nodded and climbed into the tub, ready to endure whatever came next for the sake of his growth.

Jin Eryndor didn't say another word as he took a deep breath, removed his shirt, and carefully stepped into the tub of medicinal solution. The water was warm, almost on the edge of being too hot, but still bearable.

The medicinal bath, crafted from a variety of herbs with differing ages and properties, was no ordinary concoction. The precise blend depended heavily on the individual's cultivation stage and physique. Some advanced body-refining techniques even required secret formulas to create the ideal medicinal bath. These formulas were the essence of body-refinement practices, and without them, any attempts to strengthen the body could lead to eventual ruin.

Body refinement wasn't merely about training muscles and bones; it was a process that continuously pushed the body to its limits, consuming potential along the way. Without the right replenishment from these secret methods, prolonged training could deplete one's innate potential, leaving no room for further breakthroughs. At that point, progression would become impossible.

As Eryndor sank into the tub, the first sensation was nothing more than the soothing warmth of the water enveloping his body. For a moment, it felt like a simple hot bath—nothing extraordinary. But then the change began.

A few moments later, a peculiar sensation crept over his skin. It started as a faint tickle before growing into an overwhelming itch, as if thousands of tiny ants were crawling across his body. They weren't biting, but the persistent sensation made him squirm in discomfort.

"Just uncomfortable, she said," Eryndor grumbled to himself, his face scrunching up as he resisted the urge to scratch. "Mother, are you sure about this?"

Despite his complaints, he knew what was happening. The herbs were beginning to work, penetrating his pores and stimulating his body's recovery and enhancement. They were healing the micro-tears and wear from his earlier training while nourishing his body's potential.

As he focused, Eryndor could feel subtle changes in his skin. It wasn't hardening, but instead becoming more elastic and resilient. There was a springiness to his flesh, a newfound durability that hinted at the potential to become impenetrable like tough hide over time—a gradual transformation toward the legendary toughness sought by body cultivators.

"Looks like this isn't just torture after all," Eryndor muttered, forcing himself to stay still and endure the process. The results, he figured, would be worth the discomfort.

Jin Eryndor asked, "Mother, are these herbs expensive?"

Serene Skyshade smiled gently. "Not expensive. You're just starting out with body refinement, so these are common-grade herbs. However, the formula itself is special—one of those rare prescriptions, perfectly suited for a beginner like you. How does it feel?"

"Aha, it must be from Elder Blanc! I feel a bit itchy, but it's manageable. Mother, could you leave for a bit? You standing here watching is... kind of awkward."

"Pfft, you cheeky boy! I raised you from birth, and now you're shy? Fine, fine. Judging by how fast you're absorbing it, an hour should be enough. I'll be outside."

Jin Eryndor sighed as his mother stepped out, muttering about how she always found a way to tease him. Once she was gone, he closed his eyes and focused on the changes in his body caused by the medicinal bath.

At first, he thought he could endure it, but as he tuned into the sensations, the itchiness became unbearable. It was as if a swarm of invisible ants was crawling all over him, mocking him with every move. The more he focused on it, the worse it seemed to get.

"It's just like when you have a wound," he thought to himself, "and if you're too focused on it, the pain feels ten times worse."

Realizing this, Jin stopped trying to analyze the sensation and instead adopted a simple mental mantra: Absorb the medicine, absorb the medicine, absorb...

Over and over, he repeated the phrase in his mind like a lullaby. Whether or not it actually helped him absorb the medicinal bath, it did wonders to distract him from the itchiness. It was far better than dwelling on the discomfort he couldn't do anything about.

An hour later, Jin Eryndor opened his eyes. The once murky bathwater had turned crystal clear, as if all the impurities had been drawn out of it. Jin felt his entire body light and refreshed, as though every ounce of fatigue from the day had been swept away.

Savoring the sensation for a moment, he couldn't help but clench his fists and shout inwardly, "Refreshing!"

He stepped out of the bath, dried himself off, and got dressed. Heading to the main hall, he found dinner already laid out, the table brimming with delicious dishes. His father, Jin Valen, was already seated, smiling warmly as he saw Jin enter.

Without hesitation, Jin joined his parents at the table. The family shared a peaceful, heartwarming meal, their conversation light and cheerful. The harmonious atmosphere made the day's efforts feel all the more rewarding.

Chapter 16: Daily Training 3

At the dinner table atop the Artifact Refinement Peak, Jin Eryndor's family was gathered, enjoying a meal. Jin Valen glanced at his son, who was enthusiastically devouring his food, and casually asked, "Dori how was your training today? You seem to have worked up quite an appetite."

"Father," Eryndor replied with a cheeky grin,

"today marks the official start of my physical training. I've begun practicing the foundational claw techniques. The exercises I did before? They were just warm-ups, mere child's play. From now on, I'm seriously diving into external training—building the external to strengthen the internal."

"Oh?" Jin Valen raised a brow. "Why did you choose claw techniques over fist techniques?"

"Hehe, I just feel like the claw techniques suit me better," Eryndor replied with confidence.

Jin Valen pondered for a moment, then said,

"The equipment you asked me to make is ready. Where should I place it?"

"Just leave it in the training yard for me, Father. That's where I'll need it."

Jin Valen nodded but then added with a curious tone,

"While I was finishing it up, your master happened to visit. He saw the equipment and found it fascinating. Then the other elders came to take a look and agreed it could benefit the sect's physical training. They're considering introducing it for broader use across the sect. What do you think about that?"

The hand-pulley weight machine was Jin Eryndor's design, sketched and handed to Jin Valen for creation. Given Jin Eryndor's unique status within the Skyshade Sanctum Sect, any proposal to extend its use across the sect would first require his agreement. No one in the sect was willing to offend him over a small piece of training equipment, much less risk conflict with the Artifact Refinement Peak and the Pill Refinement Hall.

Hearing his father's words, Eryndor fell into thought and asked,

"Oh? The elders found it useful, you say? Which elder suggested it?"

The question carried a subtle undertone, as though Eryndor sought to understand who might take an interest in making his invention available to the entire sect. Jin Valen hesitated briefly but eventually answered,

"It was the Sect Master himself. He mentioned that your opinion on the matter should be considered first."

"Nice," Eryndor replied after a moment of reflection.

"Father, you can tell the Sect Master this: contributing to the sect and helping my fellow disciples is an honor for me. I'm happy to see it put to good use."

Jin Valen looked at Jin Eryndor with some surprise and said, "Dori, are you serious about this?"

Eryndor laughed heartily in response, "Father, why don't you guess?"

Jin Valen scrutinized his son for a few moments, clearly intrigued, before Serene Skyshade stepped in to diffuse the moment.

"Alright, alright, let's focus on finishing dinner."

Not long after, the meal concluded, and the family of three sat down to enjoy tea together. Seizing the moment, Eryndor decided to consult his father:

"Father, I'm planning to train my stances tonight, particularly the horse stance. Do you have any advice for me?"

Jin Valen, taking his time, began to explain:

"The horse stance is considered as the foundation of martial training. Besides the horse stance, there are others like the snake stance, rooster stance, crane stance, and turtle stance. But over millennia of martial refinement, the horse stance has been simplified and optimized for its effectiveness and suitability, especially for cultivators.

The stance resembles sitting astride a horse:

Your legs are spread shoulder-width apart.Your knees bend slightly as if sitting, but not quite.Your arms bend and rest under your armpits, parallel to your shoulders.Mastery of the horse stance progresses through three stages:

Initial Mastery: Finding your center of gravity or root.Greater Mastery: Developing stability akin to a tree with deep roots, allowing you to withstand impact and maintain balance during movement or combat.Perfected Mastery: Achieving seamless control, where your upper body can move freely for dodging or short-distance shifts while your lower body remains anchored and immovable, as if rooted deep into the ground. At this stage, navigating all terrains feels as effortless as walking on flat ground.The horse stance is a must for all martial practitioners. It's the foundation of movement techniques and body control. The better you train it, the greater your achievements in martial arts. Do you understand now, Dori?"

Jin Eryndor pondered over his father's words, nodded thoughtfully, and said,

"Yes, I understand."

With his sharp memory, he knew he wouldn't forget a single detail of the explanation.

Eryndor began his training in the practice room, adopting the horse stance. At first, it felt incredibly uncomfortable. His legs ached incessantly, and there was a persistent sense that the posture itself was strange. Occasionally, his stance would shift out of alignment, and before long, Jin Valen would step in to guide him and correct his form.

As time passed, the strain on his legs grew unbearable. His thighs felt like jelly, and sweat poured down his back. Inside his mind, an insistent voice echoed:

"Just take a break, it's too much. There's no need to push yourself this hard. You've already done enough for today. No one will blame you if you rest a little..."

These thoughts crashed into his mind like waves, one after another, each more tempting than the last.

Truthfully, Eryndor was overwhelmed. He hadn't expected that simply standing still could be so exhausting. Compared to this, he would rather train his body the entire day than endure another hour of holding this stance. His childlike nature fought back against the discipline; after all, he was still young. The initial excitement of a new challenge quickly gave way to boredom and frustration.

A single stick of incense burned away, then half an hour passed, then a full hour. His forehead was dotted with beads of sweat, and his back was drenched, his shirt clinging to him uncomfortably. His legs trembled so violently they felt as though they might give out. And yet, he didn't move.

In his previous life, he had been a nobody—a shut-in with no wealth or talent. Could he allow himself to fall into mediocrity once again in this life?

No! No way! He refused to settle for a meaningless existence. He wanted to laugh in the face of the heavens, to wield his sword and shake the mountains, to stand unmatched under the sun and moon, gazing down upon all creation.

He, Jin Eryndor, would become the greatest cultivator this world had ever seen!

With a stubborn resolve burning in his heart, Jin Eryndor banished all distracting thoughts. He focused on maintaining his stance, leaving only a thin thread of consciousness to ensure his posture remained intact. He wanted to push his body to its absolute limit, to see how long he could endure. As for finding his "root" today? Forget it. This was his first time attempting the horse stance; he wasn't expecting miracles. Jin knew he wasn't a prodigy or a genius with supernatural insight like the protagonists of stories. His path required relentless hard work to make up for his natural shortcomings.

An hour passed. Eryndor was still standing, his legs trembling slightly. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his teeth clenched tightly as he fought against the exhaustion coursing through his entire body.

Two hours passed. He remained rooted to the spot, though his legs now shook violently. Sweat dripped steadily from his forehead onto the floor, and his clothes were drenched through, clinging uncomfortably to his body. His clenched teeth rattled audibly, the strain palpable.

Three hours passed. Eryndor felt like he had reached his breaking point. His entire body shook uncontrollably, veins bulging across his sweat-drenched forehead. The sweat poured off him like a river, and his legs felt completely numb. He gritted his teeth and endured, even as blood seeped from the corners of his lips where he had bitten through in his determination. At this point, only sheer willpower kept him upright.

As the fourth hour began, Eryndor finally collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor. Yet, even as he fell, a faint smile graced his lips—he had triumphed over himself today.

The moment he hit the ground, Jin Valen and Serene Skyshade appeared in his room like a gust of wind.

Jin Valen's gaze was filled with complexity as he looked at his son.

Serene Skyshade gently cast a cleansing spell on Jin Eryndor, then cradled him in her arms, softly stroking his hair, her maternal aura radiating warmth and care.

Jin Valen broke the silence.

"Dori truly is exceptional. To stand in a horse stance for four hours on his first try is remarkable. We monitored him multiple times with our spiritual senses and saw moments when he seemed ready to give up, yet he always pushed himself to continue. His willpower is extraordinary. But I don't understand—why is he so determined to pursue martial arts? At his age, shouldn't he be out enjoying himself a little?"

Hearing this, Serene Skyshade chuckled lightly.

"Of course, Dori is exceptional; he's our son. I've observed countless children practicing the horse stance, and most give up within half an hour—an hour at best. Eryndor lasting four hours is a rarity among rarities, likely tied to his unusually strong spirit. And his dedication to martial arts? Isn't that a blessing? Or would you prefer he spends his days idly causing trouble like those other privileged sect heirs, wandering around acting like fools?" She glanced down at Jin Eryndor, her eyes brimming with affection.

Jin Valen let out an awkward chuckle.

"Dori is indeed excellent, but I feel he's pushing himself too hard. He's constantly forcing himself to the limit. Since you're home most of the time, make sure to keep a close eye on him so he doesn't overtrain and harm himself."

Serene Skyshade sighed softly.

"Until now, his training was just harmless exercises—sit-ups, jumping rope, running. I often watched him with my spiritual senses and didn't see anything too intense or dangerous. But now, it seems I'll have to carefully monitor his training. He's becoming more and more relentless."

She gently carried Jin Eryndor to his bed, laying him down carefully. His small figure looked peaceful, sleeping in a neat and upright posture.

After ensuring he was comfortable, both parents returned to their room to rest.

And that, another day of Jin Eryndor's tireless training came to an end

Chapter 17: Daily Training 4

When Eryndor woke up, he felt completely refreshed, his mind and body full of energy.

With a swift and nimble movement, he jumped out of bed and headed out of his room to freshen up and take care of his morning hygiene.

Entering the main hall, he found Jin Valen and Serene Skyshade already seated. Serene greeted him with a warm smile,

"Eryndor, come have breakfast. Everything is ready for you."

"Yes, Mother!" Jin Eryndor replied cheerfully and quickly sat down at his spot, immediately digging into the meal with gusto.

He felt an insatiable hunger and thirst, needing to replenish the energy he had expended the day before. After just one full day of formal body training, his appetite had increased significantly. Thankfully, his parents were quite well-off, so there was no concern about him eating them out of house and home. The phrase "cultivate literature to feed warriors" wasn't just empty words.

Watching her son devour his meal like a storm, Serene Skyshade felt immense joy. She picked up several large chicken drumsticks and placed them on his plate. The chicken was no ordinary poultry—it came from Fire-Tail Fowl, a type of spirit beast bred in the sect's Spirit Beast Mountain. It was a delicacy typically reserved for inner and outer sect elders, though most of them had already adopted the practice of fasting, only occasionally indulging for variety. Recently, the Fire-Tail Fowl population had grown considerably, and Eryndor's voracious appetite was helping keep their numbers in check.

Once martial artists embark on their path of cultivation, they must consume substantial food to fuel their practice, taking the route of refining essence into energy. Without sustenance, where would the strength to train come from? Without stored internal energy, their martial training would be meaningless.

Jin Eryndor's body was sturdy and resilient, and his digestive system had adapted to match, allowing him to quickly process and absorb nutrients from his meals. After expending a significant amount of energy the previous night, his body rapidly replenished itself with the morning's hearty meal.

Jin Valen observed his son with satisfaction. "A child like this," he thought, "causes no trouble, eats well, sleeps well—that's all a parent could ask for. Let him train and grow in his own way."

After finishing his breakfast and resting briefly, Jin Eryndor headed to his personal training ground. Upon arrival, he noticed the weightlifting pulley system his father had prepared, neatly arranged and ready for use. Circling it a few times, Jin Eryndor couldn't help but feel impressed. "Father's craftsmanship truly lives up to the stories," he thought with a grin.

He started his routine by warming up with squats, deep breathing exercises, push-ups, and running laps. With his body fully warmed up, Jin Eryndor moved on to weightlifting.

As the morning progressed, he resumed his relentless practice of the Foundation Claw Technique for body refinement. Over and over, he repeated the sequences. By now, he had become exceedingly proficient in the movements—what he needed was for his body's physical strength to reach the next level and break through to new heights. The Foundation Claw Technique wasn't just a hollow set of moves; it continuously strengthened and refined Jin Eryndor's physique with each repetition.

In the afternoon, Jin Eryndor began with the 5kg weights again. Building on the experience from the previous day, he adjusted his technique, synchronizing his breathing with his movements. He inhaled deeply while lifting the weights and exhaled steadily as he lowered them.

Although this new rhythm felt unfamiliar at first, Jin Eryndor quickly noticed its benefits. His movements became more fluid and efficient, and the results of his training seemed even greater than before.

Today, he made progress, managing to lift the weights seven times.

Next, he switched to bench pressing. Pushing himself again, he successfully completed seven reps.

"Looks like my body is developing pretty evenly," Jin Eryndor thought with satisfaction.

After working through the various weight equipment, Jin Eryndor approached his pulley machine.

He assumed a horse stance, positioned with his back to the machine, and gripped the circular handles connected to the 5kg weights. Using the "Crouching Tiger Strike Claw" motion, he executed powerful pulls.

The machine, designed to strengthen the rear shoulder muscles, was repurposed by Jin Eryndor to enhance the speed of his claw strikes. His goal was simple: if he could maintain normal strike speed under resistance, his claw techniques would improve significantly.

Thanks to the pulley design, Jin Eryndor managed10 reps per hand before pausing. He resolved that whenever he could perform 20 reps without a break, he would immediately increase the weight instead of focusing on additional repetitions. This method ensured steady and balanced progress.

By late afternoon, Jin Eryndor returned home for a satisfying meal. After eating his fill, he resumed his stance training in the evening.

This time, he pushed his limits further, standing for an additional five minutes before collapsing from exhaustion. As usual, his mother lovingly carried him to bed, ensuring he rested well for another day of relentless training.

Jin Eryndor's horse stance training still hadn't uncovered his core balance or "root," but he could now endure it for a full 5 hours. Through constant mental focus to endure the pain and exhaustion, his willpower had grown immensely. While the actual intensity of his spirit hadn't increased, his determination had become like forged steel, far surpassing anyone of his age by a hundredfold.

His physical strength had reached the upper limit of what his age and training allowed, and he felt on the cusp of breaking through to a new level—a major milestone in his development.

Using the resistance training machine, he could now pull 30kg weights in his horse stance with ease. When practicing his claw techniques, his movements had started to produce faint whistling sounds, indicating that his Claw Technique was nearing initial mastery (minor completion).

Over the past two weeks, he had made substantial progress from his intense and varied training regimen.

Now, as he pushed himself to lift the 20kg stone weights for the seventh repetition, Jin Eryndor finally felt fatigue settling in. He set the weight down and rested, reflecting on his progress and challenges over the last two weeks.

"Physical training is a long-term commitment. It's not something that can be completed in a day or two. My Basic Claw Technique is coming together, but it still feels like there's something missing—something crucial that would help me break through. What could it be? Should I go home and ask Father?

No, I can't just rely on ready-made answers all the time. That would only hurt my growth as a martial artist.

Today's training has gone well enough. Maybe it's time to observe others' training methods. Martial arts should be a collaborative pursuit, and trying to master it alone is like building a cart behind closed doors—it won't lead to true success."

Resolving to broaden his horizons, Jin Eryndor decided it was time to venture out and learn from others' experiences.

Jin Eryndor, having made up his mind, returned home to clean himself up and change into a fresh set of clothes before heading out.

However, as he looked at his clothes, he couldn't help but feel exasperated. All his outfits were bright yellow, almost gaudy. Although they didn't resemble the royal robes of an emperor, they had an undeniable flashy richness to them, as though someone desperately wanted to announce their wealth to the world. The embroidery on them, featuring golden ingots, was particularly over the top. Jin Eryndor had often refused to wear them, but unfortunately, he didn't have any other clothes to choose from.

"Seriously, Mother, what were you thinking?!" he muttered to himself.

As he stepped out, he called out,

"Mother, I'm heading out to explore."

Serene Skyshade looked up from her tea and asked,

"Oh? Where are you planning to go?"

"I want to see how others train," Jin Eryndor replied honestly.

Serene Skyshade thought for a moment, then pulled out a medallion and tucked it into his pocket. "Take this. It's my Elder Medallion. If you run into any trouble, just show this, and no one will dare bother you. Go ahead and explore."

Jin Eryndor glanced at the medallion, noting its weight and the intricate carvings of the sect's insignia. It was a mark of his mother's high status in the sect. While he doubted anyone in the sect would dare to trouble him, it was reassuring to have a backup plan.

With a cheerful, "Alright, I'm off!" Jin Eryndor dashed out of the house.

It was his first time venturing out alone. Even though he was staying within the sect grounds, a twinge of excitement and nervousness bubbled inside him. The thought of exploring new areas and watching others train filled him with anticipation.

Chapter 18: The Outer Sect Training Grounds

Jin Eryndor descended from Artifact Refinement Peak with a sense of purpose. Along the way, various disciples caught sight of him. Seeing his direction and recognizing he had come from the summit, they quickly understood his identity. Within Skyshade Sanctum Sect, the higher one's status, the closer they lived to the peak of the mountain. This alone made it clear that Jin Eryndor wasn't someone to be trifled with.

Moreover, Eryndor was just a child. No reasonable adult would stoop to the level of antagonizing a child, especially one from a prominent family.

Jin Eryndor moved steadily down the mountain. The area he traversed housed the Inner Sect disciples, each of whom had their own private training grounds. It was rare to see inner disciples gather in groups for collective training unless it was during sect tournaments or special events.

But he wasn't interested in the inner sect training grounds today. His destination lay elsewhere: the Outer Sect Training Grounds.

The Outer Sect Training Grounds were a hub of activity, a place where the dragons and fishes mixed freely—a melting pot of talent and mischief. Here, one could find all kinds of individuals. Disciples focused solely on cultivatingspiritual energy, striving to deepen their connection with the heavens. Pure body cultivators, whose path lay in strengthening their physical forms to their utmost limits. And a smattering of dual cultivators, attempting to balance both disciplines for greater versatility.

While dual cultivation promised unique advantages, it also demanded an extraordinary amount of time and effort, as the training for body cultivation often diverted focus from spiritual cultivation. This duality forced many to consider their goals and potential benefits carefully. For the vast majority, the path of a single focus—either spiritual energy or body refinement—remained the more practical and widely accepted choice.

Eryndor, dressed in his ostentatious golden robes adorned with intricate patterns, drew considerable attention as he walked through the sect. The vibrant attire seemed to shine under the sunlight, making him the focus of many curious glances and murmured conversations.

"Oof! do you know who is that kid in the golden outfit?" one disciple asked his companion, his tone laced with curiosity.

"No idea," the younger disciple replied, shaking his head.

"But judging by his attire, his status must be quite high. Maybe the child of a sect elder or an inner disciple?"

"Wow, kids nowadays are so adorable. Just look at him! Makes me want to have one," a female disciple remarked playfully, her gaze lingering on Eryndor.

"If you don't mind, I can help you with that. Heh heh," another male disciple teased with a sly grin.

"Help your own head! Go dream somewhere else!" she retorted with a glare, storming off in mock indignation.

Eryndor smirked as he caught fragments of their chatter, clearly unbothered by the attention. His steps were steady as he headed toward the Outer Disciple Training Grounds.

The area was bustling with activity. Disciples of varying skill levels were immersed in their training. Some practiced their punches, others swung swords, while a few focused on their body conditioning exercises. The sheer diversity of techniques on display was both impressive and chaotic.

The training ground was noisy but strangely harmonious, as every disciple intuitively kept a respectful distance from one another, avoiding unnecessary confrontations.

Eryndor observed the scene with a discerning eye. Some disciples demonstrated decent technique, while others appeared to be flailing without direction. The disparity in skill levels was glaring.

"Outer disciples truly are a mixed bag," he muttered to himself. The chaotic energy of the training ground didn't appeal to him, and he soon lost interest.

With a sigh, he turned away, try to find a quieter place to continue his day.

Eryndor's attention was caught by a series of cheers and shouts echoing through the training grounds. Following the noise, he noticed a sparring arena where disciples were energetically engaged in a duel.

In Skyshade Sanctum, while internal conflicts leading to harm or death were strictly forbidden, friendly sparring matches were encouraged. As long as no one was seriously injured or killed, the elders usually turned a blind eye. After all, competition fostered growth. A sect without competition was one that would stagnate, eventually leading to its downfall. However, excessive rivalry could also erode the foundation of a sect. Striking the right balance was key to its longevity.

Eryndor approached the bustling crowd gathered around the arena. The place was packed, with disciples craning their necks to get a better view of the sparring match. He tried to push his way through the throng to get a clear look at the action, but his short stature and the sheer density of people made it impossible.

He made a few more attempts to slip through but failed each time. Frustration began to bubble up inside him.

"Seriously?! All this for a simple sparring match?" Eryndor grumbled, his tone laced with irritation. "Don't these people have training to focus on? Why are they all crammed here like this? How am I supposed to see anything?!"

His indignant muttering went unheard amidst the excited chatter of the crowd.

Eryndor muttered a curse under his breath, realizing there was no way he could squeeze through the dense crowd. Scanning his surroundings, his gaze landed on the four thick pillars positioned at each corner of the sparring arena. His eyes lit up with inspiration.

"If I can climb up one of those," he thought, "it'll be the perfect spot to watch the match. But... can I even manage to climb it?"

With determination written all over his face, Eryndor rolled up his sleeves and approached one of the pillars. Wrapping his arms around the sturdy column, he locked his hands together for a secure grip. His legs followed suit, clasping the pole tightly with his ankles crossed.

Like a determined inchworm, Eryndor began to inch his way up the pillar. It was no easy feat; sweat beaded on his brow, and his muscles strained as he used every ounce of his strength. After what felt like an eternity and every bit of his "nine oxen and two tigers" worth of effort, he finally made it to the top.

Perched at the summit of the pillar, Eryndor now had a clear view of the sparring match. Two outer sect disciples were locked in a fierce battle on the arena below, exchanging punches and kicks with precision. Judging from their movements, Eryndor quickly deduced that their cultivation levels weren't particularly high.

"This is the outer sect, after all,"

he mused, his analytical mind kicking in.

"And their techniques… hmm, they're not particularly refined. I can easily follow their movements with my eyes."

Eryndor's mind wandered as he observed the fight.

"Why are these two going at it so fiercely?"

he wondered.

"Is it some personal grudge or a matter of pride? Or maybe one of them issued a challenge?"

The match itself was not particularly complex. Both fighters relied on basic foundation-level combat techniques that Eryndor had seen and memorized from his studies. Their battle was a straightforward clash of endurance—testing who could outlast the other and exploit the first sign of fatigue.

Eryndor, now seated comfortably on the pillar, found himself surprisingly engrossed in the simplicity of the bout.

"It's all about stamina and patience," he thought.

Eryndor watched as the match unfolded to its brutal conclusion. One fighter overextended, leaving himself vulnerable. The other seized the opportunity, stepping forward and landing a powerful punch straight to the chest. The overextended fighter collapsed, coughing up blood, and the match was decided.

"Seems like this was just a friendly spar, not a grudge match. Otherwise, the winner would've followed up with a harsher finish," Eryndor thought to himself, nodding slightly.

The two fighters left the stage, and almost immediately, another disciple leapt up onto the arena, shouting:

"Durin Thalor, at the second stage of Qi Refining, challenges Erynar Veylin! Do you dare face me?"

Durin Thalor was a short but stocky figure with a long face and sharp features, his squinted eyes giving him an air of confidence. He pointed directly at a scruffy-looking disciple standing amidst the crowd. The target of his challenge, Erynar Veylin, had a wiry frame and a sly, almost mischievous demeanor.

Despite his unassuming appearance, Erynar smirked and wasted no time hopping onto the stage.

"Erynar Veylin, second stage of Qi Refining. Durin Thalor, I've had enough of your bluster. Let's settle this once and for all!" he snapped.

"Bluster? From me? Everyone in the outer sect knows your snake-like tongue! Yesterday, you even insulted Althara Sylis, the junior sister I admire! Have you no shame? Today, I'll make you pay for your insolence!" Durin Thalor shouted, his anger flaring.

"Big words for someone about to lose. Bring it on!" Erynar shot back, charging forward.

The two met in the center of the arena, each throwing a fierce straight punch. The clash of fists echoed loudly, forcing both fighters to stumble back a step.

Erynar huffed and dropped into the opening stance of Ferocious Tiger Fist, a low-tier Yellow Grade martial art. This revealed that he had spent some resources to obtain and train in this technique.

Not to be outdone, Durin shifted into the stance for Swift Wind Fist, another low-tier Yellow Grade martial art. It was clear that the fight would come down to who was more proficient with their technique and who had the stronger will.

Eryndor perched atop his column, observing the spectacle with a mix of amusement and reflection.

"Fighting over a woman again. It seems women really are at the root of so many conflicts," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

The match below was chaotic but engaging. Both fighters relied heavily on basic strikes—straight punches, hooks, and sweeping swings. Without the ability to infuse their attacks with spiritual energy, the fight became a brawl of fundamentals and endurance.

Bruises appeared on their faces as the fight dragged on. Finally, Erynar spat blood onto the ground and taunted:

"Durin Thalor, you're tougher than I expected. Perhaps we were destined to clash like this!"

Durin, unamused, snarled:

"Erynar Veylin, you dared insult Ms. Althara! I'll crush you for that!" With a loud roar, he charged forward again.

Eryndor rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

"Destined to clash? Oh please. Can you two just finish this already?"

The fight dragged on, with neither side gaining a decisive advantage. Both fighters began to slow, their movements growing sluggish as exhaustion set in. Despite their bruised and battered appearances, neither showed any intention of surrendering.

Finally, Durin seized an opportunity. He lunged forward, locking his arms around Erynar's shoulders. With a ferocious cry, he slammed his forehead into Erynar's with all his might.

The impact was brutal. Blood streamed from Erynar's forehead, and he stumbled backward before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

Durin stood swaying but victorious. He raised his arms shakily and laughed through gritted teeth:

"That's what you get for insulting Junior Ms. Althara! Learn your place!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers as Durin staggered off the stage. Meanwhile, a few disciples carried the unconscious Erynar to a quieter corner to recover.

Eryndor watched the aftermath with a thoughtful expression.

"In a fight between equals, ruthlessness and conviction often decide the victor,"

he mused.

"Aggression can unsettle an opponent, giving you an edge. But it's a double-edged sword—it can leave you more vulnerable, too. Still, there's no denying the importance of fighting spirit."

"This was a valuable lesson," Eryndor thought, his eyes gleaming with newfound determination. "I need to introduce some real opposition into my training and adjust my mindset if I want to break through this bottleneck."

Satisfied with what he had learned, Eryndor hopped down from his perch and sprinted back home, eager to implement these insights into his training.

Chapter 19: Eryndor as your goon?

Returning from the training grounds, Eryndor was in high spirits. The trip had been more fruitful than he expected. As he walked home, his mind replayed the battles he had observed earlier. Each scene unfolded in his head like a vivid movie, playing over and over as he analyzed every move, strategy, and mistake. With his near-perfect memory, Eryndor could easily simulate the fights in his mind, extracting valuable lessons to refine his own techniques.

Lost in thought, he didn't pay much attention to his surroundings. It wasn't long before—bam!—he collided with someone.

"Ow! Who the hell just ran into me?"

The sudden yelp snapped Eryndor out of his reverie. Looking ahead, he saw a chubby boy about his age sprawled on the ground, clutching his side and groaning dramatically. Around him, a small gang of kids, likely his lackeys, rushed to help him up. They fussed over him as if he were some sort of local boss.

"You idiot!" the chubby boy snarled once he was back on his feet, pointing a pudgy finger at Eryndor.

"Are you blind? Do you know who I am? Apologize now, or I'll teach you a lesson!"

Eryndor studied the boy for a moment, sizing him up. He was shorter than Eryndor by a full head, with a soft, round face and beady, shifty eyes that darted around constantly. His plump frame suggested he rarely exercised, and likely overindulged at mealtime. It didn't take a genius to figure out this kid wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue.

Despite the boy's bluster, Eryndor felt no real anger—just mild amusement.

Eryndor knew he was at fault for bumping into the boy, lost in thought as he walked. But when the other party immediately started yelling insults in an unpleasant tone, Eryndor felt a spark of irritation. Still, he decided to handle the situation calmly and smiled politely.

"Oh, my apologies. I was deep in thought and didn't see you. What's your name? I'll make it up to you by sending you some medicine for your injury."

The healing salves in his house were plentiful, and minor injuries like this only required a bit of common herbs. His mother wouldn't even bat an eye if he took some.

The chubby boy squinted at Eryndor, sizing him up. With his golden outfit embroidered with flashy patterns of gold ingots, Eryndor radiated a "new money" vibe that was hard to ignore. The boy's face twisted in irritation; he'd never seen someone in the outer sect flaunt wealth like this, and it annoyed him. Before he could speak, one of his lackeys jumped in eagerly.

"Our boss is Wei Tun, son of Elder Wei, who oversees all matters in the outer sect. Most things here don't happen without Elder Wei's approval. And Wei Tun is his only son! Do you think you can just apologize for hurting him and leave it at that?"

Eryndor silently processed this information. The Skyshade Sanctum had many elders—each managing different responsibilities, like the herbal gardens, crafting halls, punishment halls, and mission halls. Some didn't have children, but those who did often spoiled them. These "second-generation" brats were infamous for causing trouble and bullying others. Wei Tun clearly fit the mold, flanked by a pack of sycophantic lackeys.

Eryndor raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I already apologize and offer to provide medicine? It was just a little bump—no need to blow this out of proportion."

The lackey immediately shot back,

"Just a little bump? And you think a bit of medicine will fix this? What if I stabbed you a few times and said sorry? Would that make it okay? Our boss is too important to let this slide!"

Eryndor stared at the lackey, suppressing the urge to laugh.

This guy's sharp tongue could make him a great lawyer back on Earth. What a waste of talent.

He sighed, exasperated.

"Fine. What do you want, then?"

The lackey, smug with his rhetorical victory, didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Wei Tun for instructions. Wei Tun smirked, clearly pleased with his follower's performance. Internally, he gave the lackey a mental thumbs-up, though his face remained composed.

Eryndor sized up his opponent, a pudgy kid named Wei Tun, who had clearly been spoiled rotten as the son of an Outer Sect Elder. From the way he strutted about, it was obvious he was used to being the biggest fish in his small pond. Eryndor, on the other hand, was unimpressed but kept his expression calm.

Wei Tun sneered, his narrow eyes darting over Eryndor's fine gold-embroidered outfit. His jealousy was almost tangible—how could a kid like this, better dressed and better looking, dare stand up to him? But instead of letting the situation escalate further, Wei Tun's twisted sense of superiority led him to an idea: why not recruit Eryndor as one of his underlings? He'd look good with someone as polished as Eryndor serving him.

Wei Tun smirked and said, "It's simple. Kneel down, apologize properly, and we'll call it even."

Eryndor's patience was wearing thin. Though his expression remained composed, there was a spark of fire in his eyes as he replied, "That's not going to happen."

Wei Tun's smirk faltered briefly, but he quickly recovered.

"Fine. A more generous offer then—become my subordinate. Like them." He gestured to his gang of lackeys.

"From now on, I'll protect you in the Outer Sect. Do as I say, and you won't have to worry about anything."

The sheer audacity of the proposal almost made Eryndor laugh out loud. Be your underling? At your age, you're already talking about protection and running a gang? Why are you even in the Skyshade Sanctum Sect and not leading some street thugs?

Eryndor sighed. "I already offered to compensate for the inconvenience with medicine. Isn't that enough? Neither of your 'conditions' are acceptable. So, what now?"

Wei Tun's face darkened. "What now? If you won't comply, then I'll make you. Monkey, deal with him!"

The lackey known as Monkey—who had been acting as Wei Tun's most vocal henchman—grinned maliciously. Without hesitation, he charged at Eryndor, arms wide open, clearly intending to tackle him to the ground. His movements were crude and clumsy, nothing more than street brawling.

Eryndor had been expecting this. His body tensed, and his focus sharpened. His mind was clear, his stance solid. As Monkey rushed in, Eryndor made his move.

The moment Monkey entered his striking range, Eryndor dropped his body low and delivered a clean, powerful straight punch to the boy's gut.

Monkey's charge came to an abrupt halt as if he'd run into a steel wall. His eyes bulged, and his mouth opened wide in shock. Tears, snot, and saliva spilled freely as the pain overwhelmed him. The blow had landed with the force of a runaway ox, and Monkey's body crumpled. He collapsed to the ground, twitching for a moment before passing out entirely.

Eryndor shook his hand, his eyes glinting with controlled power. Though he had pulled his punch, the impact was enough to render a boy like Monkey—untrained and unconditioned—completely unconscious. If he had hit with his full strength, it wouldn't have just been a knockout; it could have been fatal.

Looking down at the fallen lackey, Eryndor sigh,

"If you're going to start fights, at least learn how to take a hit first."

Wei Tun and his gang stood frozen in shock. Their mouths hung open as they realized they'd messed with the wrong person. This seemingly frail boy, Eryndor, packed enough strength to flatten their ally with a single punch. Wei Tun's mind raced. If he didn't manage to take Eryndor down, he'd lose face—and worse, his position as the gang leader.

Trying to muster some courage, he shouted, "What are you afraid of? There's one of him and four of us! All of you, attack him together—he can't handle all of you at once!"

With that, Wei Tun shoved three of his lackeys forward, leaving only one loyal henchman by his side.

The trio exchanged nervous glances, swallowing hard. They knew they outnumbered Eryndor, and if they fought together, they might win. But if they refused, Wei Tun would surely make their lives miserable later. Resolving to avoid their leader's wrath, they nodded to each other and charged, though their fighting stance was nothing more than street brawling.

Eryndor immediately spotted the leader of the charge—the closest and fastest of the three. He knew that by engaging one target first, he could disrupt their coordination and prevent them from attacking together. This was basic strategy he'd learned from playing games in his past life.

His first punch hit with precision and power, sending the first lackey flying backward. The boy hit the ground hard, curling up in pain like a shrimp and twitching slightly, completely incapacitated.

The second lackey came at him next, but Eryndor stepped to the side with fluid precision. Grabbing the boy's wrist, Eryndor yanked him off balance and delivered a sharp kick to the knee. The second lackey crumpled to the ground, crying out in agony as he clutched his leg.

The third lackey hesitated for just a moment but then lunged forward. Eryndor didn't bother with any fancy moves this time. Using his superior reach, he delivered a straightforward kick to the boy's stomach. The impact sent the third attacker sprawling, gasping for air and curling up in pain.

Eryndor stood amidst the fallen trio, not even slightly impressed with himself. To him, this was just practical application of his training—a simple exercise to validate his techniques. He turned his gaze to Wei Tun, his voice calm but laced with warning.

"If you're out of tricks, then prepare yourself."

Wei Tun's face turned pale, but he quickly regained some of his bravado, remembering the person he'd kept as his trump card. He pointed at the remaining boy standing beside him and barked,

"Alan, take him down! Defeat him, and I'll make you my right-hand man. I'll even talk to my father about getting your parents a comfortable job in the Outer Sect."

Alan Stormshade stepped forward. He was the son of a pair of Outer Sect cultivators who, due to their limited talent, had reached a bottleneck in their cultivation and eventually settled down to raise a family within the sect. Unlike many others who left to form cultivation clans, Alan's parents chose the stability of staying within the sect.

Alan was taller and more broadly built than Eryndor, thanks to his natural frame and years of physical training his parents had encouraged to compensate for his lack of cultivation talent. As he stepped into position, his confident stance and focused gaze made it clear that Alan was no ordinary lackey.