National Obligatory Basic Boxing

4:00 AM, Ping'an Middle School.

"Hey, ha!"

In the middle of the night, the only sound echoing across the school's back field was that of a single person.

Meng Chuan arrived at school at this hour every day to practice his fist techniques early.

His punches and kicks stirred the wind; bow-stance punches, lunging strikes, waist-strikes, and throat-locks—every move and stance was executed with imposing power. He was practicing the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique.

The National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique was a foundational martial art that every citizen of Great Chu was required to learn starting at the age of four, unless they had congenital defects.

Normally, a citizen of Great Chu would reach the minor accomplishment stage of this technique by the time they were in the third grade, around the age of nine.

Those with exceptional talent and superior bone structure would then switch to practicing advanced martial arts.

At the very latest, by the time they entered middle school at thirteen, students would abandon the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique to practice the third-rate martial arts provided by their schools.

This was because the technique was merely a basic method for physical fitness.

Even if practiced to perfection, it held little real power.

The stimulation it provided to one's qi and blood during training was also insufficient.

It was difficult for students walking the path of martial arts to break through the encirclement of numerous competitors using only this.

Yet Meng Chuan was already sixteen this year, just starting his first year of high school, and he was still practicing the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique.

Looking across the entire school at all the high schoolers, anyone with even a glimmer of hope of getting into a martial arts university was busy elsewhere.

Those practicing Xingyi were working on internal fist techniques, splitting palms, or cannon punches;

Those practicing imitative styles were training in the Tiger Roar Skill, Swallow Return Fist, or White Ape Hand.

Only Meng Chuan persisted in practicing the basic fist technique alone.

As for other fist techniques, whether Xingyi or imitative, he practiced none of them.

His classmates couldn't understand what was going on in Meng Chuan's head. His bone structure was actually quite good; even compared to the entire school, he belonged to the upper tier.

It was a pity his brain didn't seem to be working right, as he spent his days just messing around.

When he first enrolled, the school's professional bone-structure testing equipment showed that Meng Chuan had mid-to-lower-tier bone structure.

This was already quite good, as the vast majority of people in Great Chu possessed lower-tier bone structure.

Meng Chuan's mid-to-lower-tier bone structure was already far stronger than the average person's.

If he had properly practiced an imitative or Xingyi style, while he might not have had a chance at early special recruitment, he would have had a very high hope of breaking through the third qi and blood barrier before the high school martial arts exam.

At that point, getting into the local Yong'an Martial Arts University would have been a sure thing.

Classmates with worse bone structure than his thought Meng Chuan had a problem with his brain.

He was letting a perfectly good talent go to waste, spending his days practicing "baby fists" here.

Those with stronger bone structure than him were even more disdainful of associating with him, bluntly stating, "This kid is lacking in intelligence."

Meng Chuan, however, didn't care about these rumors and gossip; he let others say what they wanted.

He simply focused his heart and mind on practicing his punches. At 4:00 AM, only one person knew what Ping'an Middle School looked like.

Although it was called the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique, it was impossible for an ordinary person to practice it to perfection without years of grinding effort.

Meng Chuan had been practicing since he was four, and regardless of wind or rain, he was always on time and never slacked off.

In fact, by the time Meng Chuan was fourteen and in his second year of middle school, this basic fist technique had already reached perfection.

Setting aside bone structure, in terms of comprehension of fist techniques alone, Meng Chuan's cultivation speed was unrivaled in the school.

Even the principal of Ping'an Middle School held high expectations for him.

He believed that in the future, "Yong'an Martial Arts University is his safety net, and Northern United University is a very real possibility!"

"You've already reached perfection, surely you can start practicing a third-rate martial art now?

If you really don't want to practice that because you think it's too low-end, second-rate techniques aren't out of the question either; I can help you apply to the education department!"

But under the expectant gazes of the principal and his teachers:

At fifteen, Meng Chuan was still practicing the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique.

At sixteen, Meng Chuan was still practicing the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique.

The teachers were anxious, and the principal was even more so.

But Meng Chuan himself was not in a hurry. Back then, the school would call Meng Chuan's guardian, his uncle, to the school every few days to personally persuade him.

Yet Meng Chuan remained as stubborn as ever.

In the end, the school ran out of options.

That day, the principal stood by the window and smoked three cigarettes in a row.

Finally, he said helplessly:

"If someone loves practicing the basic fist technique, there's no stopping them. Let's just leave him be."

At six in the morning, Meng Chuan had already been practicing for two full hours, and students began arriving at the back field one after another.

Students with a bit of martial talent who intended to choose the martial arts track during the second-year streaming would arrive at school before seven o'clock to exercise and practice their punches.

A few close friends gathered together to compete, learning from and exchanging pointers with one another.

Only Meng Chuan occupied a corner of the field by himself, practicing the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique alone.

"Meng Chuan, still practicing your baby punches over there?"

Chen Jian walked over with a few of his close associates. He was the class's rich kid, and his father was a senior executive at a local pharmaceutical factory.

Because his own aptitude was poor—ranking among the worst even within the lower grade—he particularly despised people like Meng Chuan who wasted their own talent.

Meng Chuan glanced at Chen Jian and then ignored him, continuing to focus on his punches.

Although the other party was mocking him, he had no desire to pay any attention.

Childish behavior; there was nothing worth arguing about.

Seeing that Meng Chuan ignored him, Chen Jian sneered a few times, decided not to make a fool of himself, and turned to leave with his followers.

Six-thirty in the afternoon.

Ping'an Middle School had already dismissed at six o'clock, and the students had basically all headed home in twos and threes.

"Xiao Chuan, still practicing your punches?"

"Yeah, I'll be home in another half hour. Auntie, go ahead and eat, don't wait for me."

"Alright then. Your uncle is working overtime today, so it'll just be the two of us eating. Auntie will be home waiting for you."

Meng Chuan hung up the phone with his aunt and focused his mind on continuing his practice.

Although it was already autumn, the weather had not yet turned completely cold.

Meng Chuan had been practicing for a long time, and beads of sweat as large as peas were dripping down.

"Two years, and it hasn't moved an inch. Why is this last one percent so difficult?"

Because Meng Chuan was born with memories of his past life, he had displayed a maturity far beyond his peers since he was young.

On the day he turned four, when he first learned the National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique, a mysterious panel abruptly appeared in Meng Chuan's mind.

At that time, the four-year-old Meng Chuan focused his gaze on it.

National Compulsory Basic Fist Technique: Entry (1%) Pending Limit-Break
Limit-Break Trait: One Proof Eternal Proof (Super)

After seeing the content clearly, the small text on the panel immediately dissipated.

At the same time, a message came from the depths of his mind, telling him what this thing was.

Martial Dao Limit-Breaking Panel

Practice any martial art in the world; once it reaches perfection, it can continue to be practiced until it breaks its limit, ultimately unlocking the corresponding trait.

The four-year-old Meng Chuan blinked his eyes and refocused his mind, and the panel appeared before his eyes once again.

The top recorded his current progress, which was nothing special, just like a game interface.

Meng Chuan was mainly looking at the [Limit-Break Trait: One Proof Eternal Proof] displayed at the very bottom.

The meaning represented by One Proof Eternal Proof was: once you have possessed it, you will never lose it again.