Thousand-Jin Stake

Military Floating Land No. 17, the junction of Sector G and Sector F.

Here stood a greasy barbed-wire isolation belt.

On this side of the belt lay the deathly stillness and desolation of the recruit camp, the air carrying only the cold scent of metal.

On the other side, however, a faint dark-red neon glow seeped through, accompanied by the dull thud of heavy bass vibrations—a markedly different atmosphere.

"This way, avoid the cameras."

Xu Bo bent low, expertly parting a torn gap beneath the barbed wire, signaling Jiang Yue to follow.

The two crawled through the isolation belt, and a turbid wave of heat—mingling cheap tobacco, high-grade industrial alcohol, and the charred aroma of grilled meat—slammed into them instantly.

"This is the 'Grey Zone'."

Xu Bo lowered his voice, a hint of complex reverence in his tone. "This is where the Supervision Team and logistics veterans bunk. As long as no one gets killed, the higher-ups turn a blind eye to these retired old soldiers."

Jiang Yue straightened up, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.

This was an "entertainment zone" converted from a massive abandoned engine hangar.

Rough metal walls were plastered with flickering neon tubes, and the ground was littered with empty bottles and mechanical parts.

Here, there was none of the suffocating discipline of the recruit camp—only raw desire and catharsis.

The two threaded through the crowded space and reached the center of the hangar.

It was packed tight, hundreds of bare-chested men waving their credit chips and bellowing deafening roars.

"Bet it all! Crush him, damn it!"

"Three minutes! I bet he can't last three minutes!"

Jiang Yue looked up.

At the heart of the crowd sat a burly, bald-headed man built like an iron tower.

His bare torso was tattooed with a vicious dragon coiling over his shoulder, muscles bulging like rock, each one seeming to hold explosive power.

What drew the eye most was his left arm.

It was no flesh and blood, but a heavy mechanical prosthetic brimming with violent aesthetics.

The silver-black metal casing was covered in scratches, clearly well-used.

"That's 'Butcher Zhang'."

Xu Bo whispered in Jiang Yue's ear. "A first-rank martial artist. I heard he lost his arm to a 'Scythe Bug' during the last bug tide and retired to run the house here. This turf is his."

"Most of the other veterans never actually saw combat—they're mostly logistics. Anyone with real fighting strength wouldn't still be stuck here."

Jiang Yue nodded. He could tell the man had abundant blood and qi. Though missing an arm, his experience in life-or-death combat meant his fighting prowess was clearly high.

Given the Federation's medical standards, reattaching or even regenerating a lost limb wasn't difficult, but the cost was prohibitive for most. Hence, many low-level martial artists chose prosthetics.

In fact, for low-level martial artists, specialized prosthetics offered strength no less than natural flesh, at a price lower than limb regeneration—so plenty took that path.

At that moment, Butcher Zhang sat on a high iron seat, his eyes coldly sweeping the crowd. His mechanical left arm slammed down on the metal table before him.

Boom!

The thunderous crash silenced the entire venue.

"Next round—'Thousand-Jin Stake'!"

Butcher Zhang's voice rasped like a cracked gong, carrying a blood-chilling brutality. "Newbie odds: three to one! Veteran odds: one to one! Bets placed, hands off!"

The crowd erupted again.

In the center of the arena stood several massive hydraulic metal pillars.

Beneath each pillar was an alloy base just big enough for one person to stand on.

"This is the 'Thousand-Jin Stake'," Xu Bo explained. "It's a test of endurance."

"The challenger stands under the pillar and braces it with their shoulder. Initial pressure is 300 kilograms, increasing every minute. Whoever cracks their bones first or drops to their knees loses."

"It looks like a strength contest, but it's really about bone density and internal organ pressure resistance." Xu Bo adjusted his glasses. "A lot of newbies have power—can punch with four or five hundred kilos—but their bones are brittle and they break under the load. Veterans have tempered themselves over time; their bones are hard. It's a sure win."

As he spoke, two challengers stepped into the arena.

On the left was a heavily built recruit, muscles knotted, eyes fierce.

Jiang Yue remembered him—this guy had scored 420 kilograms on the day's punch test, a standout among the recruits.

On the right was a scrawny-looking veteran, one leg missing, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, his face full of mockery. He looked frail and unassuming.

"Begin!"

At Butcher Zhang's command, the hydraulic pillars slammed downward.

300 kilograms of pressure instantly bore down on both their shoulders.

The burly recruit's face flushed crimson, his legs spread apart, every muscle in his body taut, a low growl rumbling from his throat—clearly he was using pure muscular strength to brace against the pressure.

In contrast, the one-legged veteran merely swayed slightly before steadying himself. He even had the leisure to take a drag of his cigarette and blow a smoke ring.

"Arrogant."

The recruit ground his teeth.

One minute passed. The pressure increased to 400 kilograms.

Veins bulged on the recruit's forehead, sweat poured like rain, and his legs began to tremble violently, the grinding sound of his knee joints clearly audible.

His breathing had already fallen into chaos, his chest heaving like a bellows.

But the veteran remained in that same lazy, nonchalant posture.

His body rose and fell with the faintest tremor of the hydraulic column, as if he had turned into a flexible spring.

"That's..." Xu Bo's face turned ugly. "That's the 'Force Unloading' technique. Besides the gap in physical strength between them, the skill gap is even wider."

Jiang Yue said nothing.

His eyes were locked onto the veteran in the arena, the panel at the edge of his retina running silently.

In his field of vision, every breath the veteran took precisely matched a tremor of the hydraulic column's pump.

The moment the column pressed down, the veteran exhaled, his entire body's skin and flesh relaxing, his bones shrinking slightly; the moment the column rebounded, the veteran inhaled, instantly locking his joints.

Between that one exhale and one inhale, at least 30% of the crushing weight was neutralized.

Clearly, this contest wasn't just about comparing bodies—it was about who could better master the rhythm of their own body.

The third minute.

The pressure reached a terrifying 600 kilograms.

Crack!

A crisp sound of bone breaking came from the recruit's knee.

"Ah!!!"

The burly recruit let out a miserable scream, blood vessels bursting, and he collapsed straight to his knees.

The hydraulic column slammed down—if not for the safety mechanism activating, he would have been crushed into meat paste.

"Worthless."

The one-legged veteran spat out his cigarette butt, slowly crawled out from under the column, brushed the dust off his shoulder, and sneered, "Go back and drink milk. With that little strength, you dared to come throw away money?"

The surrounding veterans burst into roaring laughter, whistles rising and falling.

As for the greenhorns who had bet on the recruit winning, every one of them looked ashen-faced, watching their hard-earned points vanish in an instant.

Butcher Zhang sat on the high platform, waving his mechanical arm to sweep the mountain of points chips on the table into his embrace, tearing into a dripping exotic beast steak with big bites, his mouth slick with grease.

"What do you think?"

Xu Bo watched the scene and shook his head in despair. "There's no way to play this. Our recruits' bodies haven't even grown into their strength yet, and we're crushed on technique. Trying to win points from these veterans is harder than reaching the sky."

He turned to look at Jiang Yue, only to find a strange expression on Jiang Yue's face.

Jiang Yue stared calmly at the hydraulic column, as if feeling out the direction of the crushing force.

"Xu Bo."

Jiang Yue suddenly spoke, his voice very soft. "That veteran won, not because his bones are harder."

"In terms of physical strength, the gap between the two sides isn't actually that big—especially since that man has a missing leg and didn't even get it reattached, just a simple prosthetic, which reduces a lot of the enhancement from Body Forging. On top of that, his qi and blood are already nearing decline. It shouldn't have been such a one-sided crush."

"The key point that decided the outcome was breathing."

"Breathing?" Xu Bo was taken aback.

Jiang Yue touched his own chest, feeling the circulation of qi and blood driven by his heartbeat.

To be precise, the veteran had a better grasp of his own breathing and the rhythm of exerting force, which was why he handled it so easily.

The commotion in the arena continued. Butcher Zhang had already opened a new round of betting.

"Let's go."

Jiang Yue withdrew his gaze and turned toward the dark exit.

"Huh? We're leaving just like that?" Xu Bo couldn't keep up with Jiang Yue's train of thought. "Not going to place a bet? Maybe we could scrape together some points..."

"No money."

Jiang Yue was concise.

Perhaps by using his insight and data calculations, he could roughly judge who would win in the arena and even make a small profit from it, but clearly, it wasn't worth it for Jiang Yue.

"With that kind of effort, it's better to spend it on improving myself. Judging others' victories and defeats through observation will always have flaws..."

"If I'm strong enough myself, I can grasp victory and defeat."