Great Xia, Linjiang District.
Linjiang No. 3 High School, Senior Year Class Five.
Morning.
The early morning sunlight streamed in, illuminating the students' youthful faces and lending the classroom a lively air.
At the lectern, Chen Guo'an, the homeroom teacher and history teacher, had already activated the holographic projector. Today's topic appeared on the pale blue screen: <Astral Rifts and the Origins of the Martial Dao Era>.
"Class, today is the eighteenth topic in our High School Entrance Exam review."
Teacher Chen pushed up his glasses, his voice steady and clear. "Five hundred years ago, in 2005 AD, the first Astral Rift appeared in the Americas." The projection behind him changed at the same time. In the ancient footage, a black fissure stretching across the ground slowly opened its jaws, and countless hideous Fierce Beasts poured out.
"When the Fierce Beasts descended, human civilization lost a quarter of its population in just two years."
Teacher Chen tapped the screen, highlighting several key dates. "Conventional weapons were effective at first, but as stronger individuals continued to pour through the rifts—especially when Second Order and Third-Rank Fierce Beasts appeared, able to resist or even absorb energy attacks—human civilization stood on the brink of extinction."
Lin Ye rested his chin on his hand, his gaze somewhat unfocused. He had heard all this for eighteen years.
Ever since he could remember, his bedtime stories in kindergarten had been Chronicles of Martial Heroes, the first lesson in his elementary school textbook had been The Star Alliance's Grace, and every semester in middle school, they had to visit the Dungeon Defense Line Memorial Hall.
It felt absurd, yet real.
At the very least, as a transmigrator, he could hardly imagine that such a world existed in the universe.
That was right. He was a transmigrator. Eighteen years ago, he had crossed over from Blue Star into this world, his baby's body housing the soul of someone from another world.
But things did not always go as he wished. When he first learned that this world had the Martial Dao, he had been shocked, then ecstatic, then disappointed. Now, he was numb to it all.
"At a moment of crisis, Star Alliance martial artists arrived with the second wave of Astral Rifts."
Teacher Chen's voice drew Lin Ye's thoughts back. "They claimed to come from the Bathing Sun Nebula. As well as helping us establish a defensive line, they taught us their martial cultivation system, ushering in Blue Star's Martial Dao era."
The Star Alliance's emblem appeared on the projection: countless stellar rings transformed into points of light, circling a long sword.
"According to them, the Star Alliance is an alliance of seven human star systems, founded on the principles of 'nonaggression, mutual aid, and united resistance against foreign races.' The Bathing Sun Nebula is a region under the Red Flame Galaxy, and Earth was the ninth intelligent civilization they discovered on the edge of their nebula."
"Pay attention here," Chen Guo'an said, rapping his knuckles against the blackboard. "Here come the key points. The nature of the Star Alliance, the circumstances surrounding the Bathing Sun Nebula martial artists' arrival, and the significance of their teaching us the Martial Dao and ushering in a new era—all of these are sure to be on the exam."
Lin Ye mechanically jotted down the keywords in his notebook: Astral Rift, 2005; Star Alliance envoys, 2007; Year One of the Martial Dao Era, 2007; Dungeon Defense Line established, 2008... His handwriting was neat, but his mind was elsewhere.
This history was grand and distant, like a war documentary from another world. To him, all that grandeur felt less real than the aching knees he'd get from practicing his stance during martial arts class that afternoon.
That afternoon, at the Martial Arts Pavilion.
The martial arts room reserved for Senior Year Class Five.
The stuffy air was thick with the smell of sweat and rubber flooring. More than fifty students in matching gray practice uniforms stood in the Primordial Stance, backs straight as pines, breathing long and steady as they tried to sense the faint flow of Blood Qi in their bodies.
At the front stood a middle-aged man with dark skin and lean, muscular build. He was their martial arts teacher, Zheng Huai. They said he had once been a member of a hunting team at an Astral Rift. A vicious claw scar on his arm drew plenty of attention.
"Same as usual. One hour in the Primordial Stance."
Teacher Zheng's booming voice echoed through the hall. "I know many of you find stance training boring and want to hurry up and practice punches, kicks, and weapons. Let me tell you this: Stake Training is the root of the Martial Dao! If the roots aren't firm, all your fancy moves are a waste of time!"
Lin Ye took his place and settled into the stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, hands held loosely before his dantian.
He had learned this basic stance three years ago, when he first enrolled. He practiced it every day and was tested every month.
He closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and felt for the subtle balance of his center of gravity.
After three minutes, his calves began to ache.
After seven, the muscles in his thighs trembled slightly.
After ten, sweat seeped from his temples.
"Relax your waist! Why are you tensing up so much?"
Teacher Zheng's scolding came from nearby as he addressed one of the students.
"How many times have I told you? The stance isn't a horse stance. You have to stay relaxed without going limp, tense without becoming rigid." Lin Ye took a deep breath and adjusted his posture. He knew this was his own problem, too: his waist and hips didn't connect smoothly enough, and his center of gravity wobbled slightly whenever he made fine adjustments.
That meant he had to use thirty percent more effort to maintain his balance in the stance, making his practice inefficient.
"Lin Ye."
Zheng Huai's voice suddenly sounded beside him. Lin Ye opened his eyes and saw that Teacher Zheng had somehow come to stand in front of him.
"Your problem is your ankles."
Zheng Huai crouched and tapped Lin Ye's right ankle with a finger. "You're too stiff. In the stance, your feet should grip the ground like tree roots, but don't dig in with brute force. Learn to feel the ground's reactive force and adjust your ankle angle with it."
He demonstrated a subtle turn of his ankle. "See? Like this. Then your Blood Qi can rise smoothly from the soles of your feet and form a cycle. When you stand rigidly like that, the Blood Qi gets blocked at your ankles. No matter how long you practice, you'll get half the result for twice the effort."
At his words, Lin Ye tried to imitate him.
The first time, his center of gravity wavered, and he nearly fell.
The second time, he found a little of the feeling.
"Take your time and get a feel for it."
Zheng Huai patted his shoulder. "Your fist techniques are decent. It's just your foundation that's too weak. Once your stance improves, the power of your punches should increase by at least thirty percent."
With that, he moved on to the next student.
Lin Ye continued his stance training, repeatedly adjusting the subtle angle of his ankles as the teacher had instructed.
Five minutes later, he felt something different. The soreness and tightness that had been stuck in his calves seemed to loosen a little. But the sensation vanished in an instant. When he tried to grasp it, everything returned to how it had been.
He gritted his teeth and kept going.
The hour-long stance practice dragged on, agonizingly slow. Lin Ye could tell that Teacher Zheng was pointing him in the right direction, but his body was like a rusted machine. Every tiny adjustment was exceptionally difficult. Sweat had long since soaked through his practice uniform, and his thigh muscles trembled violently. But he knew he was still a long way from truly mastering the basics.
A few students in the class could already achieve a "minor Blood Qi circulation" while holding the stance. They could stand for over half an hour without difficulty. That was the sign of Stake Training reaching the "proficient" level.
As for Lin Ye, he couldn't even hold the stance steadily for fifteen minutes. He could only be considered a beginner.
"Time's up!"
"Take ten minutes to rest, then we'll practice fist techniques."
At Zheng Huai's order, sighs of relief and the sounds of students collapsing filled the hall. Lin Ye slowly relaxed his stance, his legs feeling as heavy as lead. The waves of pain in his ankles reminded him that his adjustments hadn't worked.
"Old Ye, you're amazing."
"You stood for so long without making a sound."
A voice came from beside him. Lin Ye knew it was Zhang Hao as soon as he heard it.
"Not really. I just lasted a little longer than you."
Lin Ye panted as he spoke, rubbing both legs in an attempt to ease the aching pressure.
"Even a little longer is good. Your Blood Qi rises a bit faster than mine."
"Just thinking about Teacher Zheng testing us again in a couple of days makes me nervous."
Zhang Hao sighed beside him. His Blood Qi Value was the lowest in the class, and every test made him feel humiliated.
"Don't overthink it. Eat well and practice more. Your Blood Qi will improve."
Lin Ye tried to comfort him, though he was comforting himself just as much.
"Line up! Rolling Stone Fist, ready—"
A moment later, at Zheng Huai's command, Lin Ye settled into his stance again and began practicing the forms.
He punched, turned his waist, and stepped forward.
His movements were fairly fluid, but that same clumsy resistance still plagued his exertion. He could feel that, in the instant he shifted from one movement to the next, his strength didn't flow smoothly enough, weakening his Fist Momentum.
Almost three years.
He had practiced Rolling Stone Fist tens of thousands of times. The movements had long since been etched into his muscle memory. He had gone from "beginner" to "proficient" in just half a year.
But he had been stuck between "proficient" and "mastery" for almost two years, and he still hadn't made it.
In theory, reaching Mastery Grade required understanding the techniques behind exerting force and knowing how to coordinate the muscles throughout the body in an attack.
Lin Ye knew what to do in theory, but his body simply couldn't keep up.
"Lin Ye, turn your waist with your punch. Don't stiffen up!"
Teacher Zheng's voice came from nearby, tinged with exasperation. "How many times have I told you? The waist is the hub that transmits power."
At his words, Lin Ye gritted his teeth and adjusted. But his movements only grew stiffer, trapping him in the vicious cycle of trying harder and doing worse.
It seemed he was back where he started.
Trying hard, yet clumsy.
His stiff body seemed to be mocking him, as if his ideal were nothing but unrealistic, childish nonsense.
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