Training

Ogedei led Fu Qinghai to the familiar training cage.

A strong Astartes with a hooked nose, a long face, and his hair tied back in a ponytail had been waiting inside for quite some time.

When the training equipment around the cage wasn't running, the space could serve as a sparring arena for Astartes. Its specially reinforced structure was strong enough to withstand their violent exertions.

Ogedei pointed to the warrior and said to Fu Qinghai, "Let me introduce you. This is Arslang, the strongest fighter in the Falcon Brotherhood after me."

Arslang laughed and said, "You can leave out the 'after me' part, Khan."

Ogedei laughed and swore at him. "Oh, piss off. Little Locke is in your hands. Teach him well; he'll become one of us."

It seemed Arslang already knew about Fu Qinghai.

He picked up a long metal blade with ease and said to Fu Qinghai, "Come on, pick a weapon you like."

Fu Qinghai walked over to the weapon rack and looked at the dazzling array of weapons neatly arranged on it.

These weapons were the same size as the actual weapons used by Astartes, and their edges were sharpened. They simply didn't have Power Field Generators installed. In terms of weight, these specially weighted training weapons were even heavier.

There were warhammers and battle-axes of various shapes and sizes, knives and swords of different lengths, as well as iron claws, guandao, halberds, and more.

After looking over the options, Fu Qinghai ultimately chose a long blade similar to the one in Arslang's hands.

First, he followed his instincts and picked the weapon he liked.

Second, it couldn't hurt to choose the same weapon as the strongest fighter.

Seeing Fu Qinghai's choice, Arslang smiled and raised his long blade in both hands. He said:

"Come on. First, I'll teach you to sense the weapon in your hands, to feel its character and soul."

The White Scars always liked to poeticize their cold, merciless weapons of slaughter.

Fu Qinghai asked, "How do I sense it?"

A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Arslang's mouth, one that seemed oddly familiar to Fu Qinghai.

"By fighting."

With that, he lunged at Fu Qinghai like a swift gust of wind.

The day's close-combat training was over. His nose bruised and his face swollen once again, Fu Qinghai stood before the full-length mirror in his quarters, examining his naked body.

It was such a broad, powerful, and flawless physique.

Looking at the sharply defined muscles in the mirror, Fu Qinghai couldn't help reaching out to feel his broad, solid pectorals, the deep cleft between them, his boulder shoulders, and his bulging arms.

These were muscles he could never have built in his previous life, even if he'd eaten a ton of protein powder and taken ten pounds of steroids.

Fu Qinghai turned halfway around and flexed slightly. The menacing knots of muscle that instantly rose across his back were enough to make anyone stare in fear.

Looking down again, his waist wasn't as narrow as the ideal inverted triangle pursued by bodybuilders in his previous life. Compared to his broad shoulders, it wasn't particularly pronounced. But his eight bulging abdominal muscles and clearly defined V-line made one thing obvious:

This body had immense core strength.

Bodybuilders aimed for a narrow waist to accentuate the inverted triangle shape. But from the perspective of actual combat, a sufficiently thick waist meant greater core strength and a more stable base.

That was how some ancient generals got their potbellies.

Fu Qinghai patted his solid abs and thought, no wonder the Astartes were famous throughout the universe as muscle bros. These muscles really were something.

And they weren't just for show.

The test results from the training cage roughly matched the data Master Kunto had given him. Fu Qinghai could now exert about one ton of force, and his running speed without armor was close to sixty kilometers per hour (even faster in armor). He could jump about four meters straight up.

This was mainly thanks to the Biscopea, though he also relied on his reinforced bones and two hearts.

After that, Fu Qinghai threw himself into a hectic training schedule.

A killing machine needed the software to match its hardware.

As mentioned earlier, the technology for creating bionic organs had existed since ancient times. What truly allowed the Astartes to make their mark throughout the universe was, to an even greater extent, the wealth of combat skills and military knowledge in their minds.

There was no day or night during space travel. Combined with the regulation provided by the Astartes' Occulobe, Fu Qinghai only needed four hours of rest between each training session.

Fu Qinghai's training intensity was turned all the way up from the start.

Unarmed combat and melee weapons training. There were almost no ground techniques, takedowns, or grapples—only killing moves, following the White Scars' style of speed, precision, and a single lethal strike;

Proficiency with all kinds of firearms and accurate shooting;

Using Power Armor;

Learning to drive all kinds of Imperial vehicles designed for Astartes, including Stormbirds and Rhino transports, especially the Jetbikes beloved by the White Scars.

Familiarizing himself with all kinds of Imperial warships and learning how to command space battles;

Squad tactics, company tactics, regimental tactics, and simulated command of an entire campaign;

Special operations, including torpedo boarding, teleport boarding, and orbital drops;

As he learned these strategies, tactics, and techniques, Fu Qinghai was also taught the White Scars' distinctive combat style and philosophy: draw the enemy in, outflank them, and strike fast.

This was different from the approach of many Legions that favored meeting force with force, charging straight ahead, fighting to the death, and never accepting a feigned retreat.

The White Scars' predecessors, the Star Hunters, had originally been a Legion of scouts. After finding their Primarch, Jaghatai Khan, the Khan had incorporated his own understanding of the art of war into the Legion.

The White Scars' tactics were extremely crafty. They had often pretended to be beaten, lured the enemy into pursuit, disrupted their formation, and then struck back when their guard was down. Their combat style emphasized one thing: speed. Whether in battle or in tactics, speed was the core of the White Scars' approach.

But likewise, the White Scars weren't good at many things other Legions excelled at. For example: fortification and robust defense (Imperial Fists), artillery strikes and siege warfare (Iron Warriors), infiltration, covert operations, and decapitation strikes (Raven Guard), biological warfare and gas warfare (Death Guard), or riot suppression, maintaining order, and interrogation (Night Lords).

Fu Qinghai didn't regret it. Charging headlong into a fight wasn't his style, and the White Scars' approach suited him well.

As the saying went: in the martial arts world, nothing could overcome strength except speed.

Speed meant that even when he couldn't win, he could still run.

That wasn't running away. It was making full use of the space available, and sensibly preserving his forces.

In short, it was a strategic retreat.

That was one thing that set Fu Qinghai apart from other Astartes.

The many years between selection and Ascension Surgery weren't spent entirely on training by ordinary Astartes candidates and neophytes. A great deal of time was also devoted to brainwashing... or, as it was called, psychological conditioning: instilling an indomitable will to fight, absolute loyalty to the Imperium and humanity, and contempt and hatred for heretics and aliens.

An Astartes' ascension wasn't only a physical transformation. It was also a severing of ties with who they had been. Many people assumed that during their brainwashing, Astartes had their memories deliberately erased and forgot their past. That wasn't the case. Instead, through long, unending years of training and combat, their memories of life before their ascension gradually faded, until they became perfectly honed killing machines.

Fu Qinghai was different. Before entering the Reincarnation World, he'd already been an adult with his own worldview. Thanks to Master Kunto's techniques, he'd completed his ascension in only a year and a half.

His memories of his previous life were still vivid and active, and his personality and values couldn't be remade.

Talal and Ogedei didn't know that Fu Qinghai's soul came from beyond this universe. But they knew they weren't the Administratum or the Chapters, and didn't have the means or the time to give Fu Qinghai psychological conditioning.

That was the real way in which Fu Qinghai's ascension broke the rules—the point Talal had emphasized to Ogedei.

To put it plainly, Fu Qinghai could fight for the Imperium of Man, but he wasn't willing to die for it.

Leaving aside the fact that he was merely a visitor from beyond the universe, earning Reincarnation Points.

The Imperium of Man wasn't exactly a good nation, either. It could be called a totalitarian, militaristic, Nazi state. Its class divisions were severe, and oppression and discrimination were everywhere. Various cyberpunk-style megacorporations and financial conglomerates controlled the people's working and daily lives. Except for a few Garden Worlds, most of the Imperium's lower classes didn't live in comfort and plenty. They barely survived, and their living conditions were appalling.

But on the bright side, it was precisely this warmongering Imperium of Man that had sheltered humanity and allowed it to survive in this cruel, dark universe, gradually becoming the master of the galaxy.

So, whether from the perspective of his allegiance in the Reincarnation World or his own survival and future prospects,

Fu Qinghai had every reason to study hard and train like his life depended on it.

Though he wore the Power Armor of the White Scars, deep down Fu Qinghai was something of a "Black Shield"—an unofficial term for Astartes with no allegiance or faith, who fought for themselves.

Building a name for himself could wait. Staying alive was what mattered most.

Another month passed.

Fu Qinghai woke up right on time.

What was daily life like for an Astartes when there were no combat missions?

Astartes were also called Astartes Monks. The word "monk" said a lot about them.

On any day without a combat mission, nearly every hour was filled with some form of training.

Astartes had very little personal time. For them, combat was entertainment, and training was entertainment.

Today, Ogedei was teaching Fu Qinghai how to activate his Sus-an Membrane through meditation.

Fu Qinghai sat cross-legged on the floor, facing Ogedei.

Ogedei had also gotten out of his wheelchair and sat on the floor, facing Fu Qinghai at eye level.

"Close your eyes, adjust your breathing, focus your mind, and feel the area in your brain," Ogedei's voice came slowly.

Fu Qinghai did as he was told and closed his eyes.

"Calligraphy and meditation are methods unique to our Legion. They can help you calm your mind, step away from the endless slaughter, reflect on yourself and the gains and losses of battle, and even contemplate deeper philosophical questions."

"Not just activate the Sus-an Membrane." Ogedei's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, like that of a muscular yoga instructor.

"Good. Empty your mind of distractions."

As Ogedei finished speaking, Fu Qinghai instinctively formed a hand seal, palms up, resting his hands on his knees.

Ogedei stopped and stared curiously at the gesture, Fu Qinghai's thumb pressed against his middle finger. He asked:

"What's that?"

Fu Qinghai opened his eyes and followed Ogedei's gaze. He was immediately embarrassed.

"Uh... I thought I was supposed to do this. It's, um, a gesture unique to my hometown."

The Chogorian probably didn't know what cultivation was.

"You don't need to do that. Put your hands wherever they're comfortable."

"...All right."

He'd watched too many martial arts movies and accidentally revealed his chūnibyō side.