Morning in Wushan Town

At the training ground of the Baruch Clan's guard unit in Wushan Town, dawn had yet to break fully, and a thin mist hung in the air.

"Nine hundred and ninety-seven!"

"Nine hundred and ninety-eight!"

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine!"

"One thousand!"

The dull whoosh of a blade cutting through the air accompanied the boy's heavy breathing, each swing landing in a steady rhythm like a heartbeat.

Lin Qin stood bare-chested, beads of sweat covering his bronze skin and steaming faintly in the chilly morning air. He gripped a broadsword heavier than the standard issue and swung it forward again and again.

His movements were not flashy—in fact, they were somewhat monotonous. They consisted only of the most basic chops, slashes, upward cuts, thrusts, and blocks. Yet he put all his strength into every swing, twisting the muscles of his waist, abdomen, back, and arms into a single cord and unleashing power far beyond what anyone his age should possess. His gaze was focused and resolute, as if the whole world held nothing but him and the sword in his hands.

Not far away, Hillman, captain of the guard, watched him with a complicated look in his eyes.

Lin Qin was eight years old, the same age as Young Master Linley, whom Hillman had watched grow up. Three months earlier, when he had begun basic training with this group of children, he had noticed the taciturn boy. The boy might have been average in talent, but his perseverance moved everyone who saw it.

After others had swung their swords a hundred times, their arms would be sore and weak. After a thousand swings, Lin Qin would still add extra physical training on his own. While the others played and horsed around during breaks, he would sit quietly in a corner, meditating and sensing the faint elements of the world. Day after day, without ever stopping.

Hillman could clearly sense the Battle Qi within Lin Qin steadily accumulating and growing at a frightening pace. In just three months, the boy's Battle Qi reserves had probably already reached the threshold of a Second Rank Warrior. It was simply unbelievable!

"Hard work makes up for a lack of talent. The old saying is true," Hillman murmured. "But does he really never get tired of training this hard?"

Tired?

Lin Qin felt the ache in his muscles and the weariness of his mind, yet the corner of his mouth curved in the faintest smile.

He was tired. Very tired.

But he could feel, even more clearly, the threads of earth-yellow energy inside him growing and becoming more refined with every drop of sweat. Every time he pushed on after reaching exhaustion, he could feel his muscle fibers tear and then grow back stronger.

The feeling that every effort brought an immediate reward was like the most fragrant wine. It intoxicated him and drove away all his weariness.

Three months earlier, he had seen with his own eyes a mysterious Saint Realm powerhouse appear above Wushan Town as if by teleportation. The man's overwhelming presence, along with what Lin Qin later heard about the Baruch Clan's past glory and its present decline, had stirred something indescribable within him.

He had ordinary talent, no Coiling Dragon Ring, and no powerful ancestral bloodline. The only things he had were himself and this body, willing to give everything it had.

"If others train once, I'll train ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times!"

The instant this thought arose, he felt as if his soul had connected with some unseen law. A conviction known as Heaven Rewards Diligence became the core of his soul.

From that day on, he truly experienced what it meant for hard work to bring rewards. His Battle Qi cultivation progressed at an astonishing rate, and repeating basic moves countless times gave him an incredibly deep understanding of them. He even discovered that when he focused completely on swinging his sword, he could occasionally catch the subtle rhythm of how "force" traveled as the blade cut through the air.

He knew he had embarked on a different path from everyone else.

"Lin Qin, take a break. It's almost time for reaction training," Hillman called.

"Yes, Uncle Hillman!" Lin Qin lowered his sword and stood upright, breathing out a long stream of stale air. The white vapor shot more than half a meter before slowly dispersing. He picked up the coarse cloth shirt beside him and wiped away his sweat, then found his gaze drawn to the other side of the training ground.

A brown-haired boy was watching Hillman brightly as he taught the guards to practice the Military Fist. It was Linley.

Lin Qin looked at Linley without envy, only a faint sense of kinship. They were both seekers of strength, but their paths were different. Linley relied on his astonishing talent, while Lin Qin relied on the solid earth beneath his feet and sweat that never stopped flowing.

He walked over.

"Linley."

"Lin Qin." Linley snapped out of it and greeted him with a smile. He liked the other boy, who trained like a madman. "You're amazing. I get tired just watching you."

"You get used to it." Lin Qin kept his answer brief. He watched the guards' sharp punches and kicks, then suddenly asked, "Linley, what do you think 'momentum' is?"

Linley froze, then shook his head. "I don't know. Uncle Hillman says it's a very powerful state."

Lin Qin's gaze turned thoughtful. He said slowly, "I think 'momentum' is what happens when strength, speed, and will become one after being tempered a thousand times. Like this punch: if you throw it ten thousand times, a hundred thousand times, it's no longer just a punch. It becomes instinct, an extension of your will."

As he spoke, he unconsciously imitated one of the guards' straight punches. His fist cut through the air with a brief, sharp whistle.

Linley didn't fully understand, but Lin Qin's words seemed to make sense.

Just then, a dark figure swept past the woods at the edge of the training ground like a specter, moving so fast that it left only a blur.

Both boys tensed and looked up, but saw nothing.

"So fast!" Linley cried.

Lin Qin's pupils narrowed slightly. In the instant the figure passed, his extraordinary dynamic vision and the instincts honed by countless sword swings had caught a glimpse of its path. It hadn't moved in a straight line, but in an extremely fluid arc that made use of the wind!

The wind... could be used like that?

His mind raced. The inspiration sparked by that fleeting glimpse matched what he had learned from feeling the air resistance during his sword swings and the wind blowing against him as he ran.

"Can careful observation bring growth too?" Lin Qin realized. "Then comprehending the world is also a form of 'effort'!"

He stood still and closed his eyes, carefully recalling the fleeting rhythm.

Watching the two boys lost in thought—especially Lin Qin, standing with his eyes closed, his presence seeming even more composed—Hillman sighed inwardly once more. "Young Master Linley has extraordinary talent. His future is limitless. And Lin Qin... I'm afraid his future won't stop at Wushan Town either."

At last, the morning sun pierced the thin mist and fell upon the training ground, stretching Lin Qin's shadow long across the ground. Sweat had gathered in a small puddle at his feet, reflecting the golden light.

A new day had begun. For Lin Qin, it was another ordinary yet extraordinary day among countless days spent earning Heaven's favor through diligence.

His journey across the Yulan Continent began in earnest on this ordinary morning in Wushan Town. Solid earth lay beneath his feet, the vast sky stretched above him, and the road to the summit would be paved with hundreds of millions of sword swings and sweat that never gave up.