Breathing Technique

Dawn. An abandoned hangar.

The roar of heavy machinery mingled with the stench of alcohol. Hundreds of veterans and a handful of new recruits packed tightly around the center of the space.

Jiang Yue and Xu Bo pushed through the crowd, heading straight for the platform.

Butcher Zhang sat sprawled on an iron throne, his heavy mechanical left arm resting on the table, a cheap cigar pinched between his fingers.

He scrolled lazily through a military data pad, cross-checking the odds for the next round.

"Signing up. Thousand-Jin Stake." Jiang Yue stepped up to the table, his voice flat.

Butcher Zhang lifted his single eye and swept a glance over Jiang Yue.

His mechanical arm extended, palm emitting a red beam that quickly scanned Jiang Yue's personal wristband.

"Jiang Yue. Basic test five days ago, punch force 286 kilograms."

Butcher Zhang exhaled a thick plume of smoke, his voice rough as sandpaper, tinged with indifference. "You know the rules? You go up there to take pressure, not to fight a match."

"Standard procedure: you get a participation fee. Based on outside bets—headcount and turnover—you'll get anywhere from 1 to 20 points. Condition is, if your bones snap, don't come crying to me for medical bills."

"Fine." Jiang Yue nodded.

Butcher Zhang swiped a few times on the data pad and sneered. "I'll pick you an opponent. Wang Meng. Five days ago, test score 350 kilograms."

"With the hellish training these past few days, his absolute strength should be closing in on the four-hundred mark. You, with your sub-three-hundred foundation, don't stand much of a chance. Perfect for a warm-up bet."

Butcher Zhang didn't care who won or lost.

He only cared whether the gap in their stats could stir up the gambling instincts of the crowd around him.

Moments later, a recruit named Wang Meng was called into the arena by a member of the Supervision Team.

Wang Meng was burly, his muscles bulging like rock.

Though days of intense training left his eyes bloodshot, the moment he heard his opponent was Jiang Yue—with a punch force of only 286 kilograms—a smug grin of having drawn a soft target spread across his previously tense face.

The individual test data from a few days ago was the most straightforward measure of strength. 350 kilograms versus 286 kilograms—clearly, his odds were better.

"Betting open!"

Butcher Zhang slammed his palm on the alloy table. "Wang Meng wins, one-to-zero-point-five! Jiang Yue wins, one-to-three! Place your bets and hands off!"

The crowd erupted. Comparing the two men's physiques and the official stats Butcher Zhang had just announced, nearly ninety percent of them threw their points behind Wang Meng.

Jiang Yue ignored the noise. He raised his wrist and swiped expressionlessly on the betting terminal.

[Points deducted: 10. Bet target: Jiang Yue.]

That was his entire fortune.

Beside him, Xu Bo took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and also bet every last point in his terminal on Jiang Yue.

The two walked to the center of the arena.

A massive hydraulic metal column hung overhead, exuding a cold, mechanical pressure.

"In position." The referee pressed the control button.

Jiang Yue and Wang Meng each stepped onto two parallel alloy platforms, bracing their shoulders against the pressure plates above.

Wang Meng turned his head, looking at the slender Jiang Yue beside him, and curled his lips into a cruel smirk. "Kid, short on points for meds? Trying to fill that hole with your life? Your bones aren't tough enough."

Jiang Yue didn't look at him. His eyes stared straight ahead, the panel characters at the edge of his retina already glowing.

[Action: Load-bearing]

[Status: Smooth Breath, Tough Skin in operation.]

Woom—!

The hydraulic pump roared to life, and an initial dead weight of 300 kilograms slammed down instantly.

Wang Meng grunted, his muscles swelling violently, blood and qi surging wildly through his body. The veins on his neck bulged like earthworms.

Relying on his explosive muscular strength, he barely held against the first wave of impact.

As for Jiang Yue—

With 300 kilograms pressing on his shoulders, his form didn't waver even a fraction.

He took a deep breath, perfectly replicating the breathing formula Xu Bo had deduced in his mind.

The moment the hydraulic column's pump emitted a faint sinking tremor, he exhaled, and [Tough Skin] relaxed and unloaded force with a minuscule degree of slack.

The instant the force faltered, he inhaled, [Smooth Breath] locked his core air pressure, and his bones snapped tight.

Force unloading.

The actual pressure acting on Jiang Yue's skeleton from that heavy 300 kilograms was reduced by nearly thirty percent.

What's more, after five days of devilish eating and beatings, Jiang Yue's absolute strength had already silently broken past the four-hundred-kilogram mark.

In the first minute, the pressure surged to 350 kilograms.

Wang Meng's legs began to tremble slightly. His breathing grew ragged, sweat rolling down his forehead and splattering onto the platform.

He gritted his teeth and turned to look at Jiang Yue, expecting to see the miserable sight of the other man crushed to his knees, begging for mercy.

Yet all he saw was a face utterly devoid of expression.

Jiang Yue's eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady.

Those slender shoulders bore 350 kilograms of steel, yet he stood as firm as a rooted, withered tree.

Wang Meng's pupils abruptly contracted, his face a mask of utter disbelief.

"How is that possible... this guy's limit was clearly under three hundred kilos!"

A storm of shock raged in Wang Meng's heart.

In just five days, an ordinary person's strength might increase by at most twenty or thirty kilograms. Even with some talent in Body Forging and high-intensity training, fifty kilograms would be considered excellent.

Moreover, Wang Meng himself had made progress during this time!

How could Jiang Yue handle the crushing weight of 350 kilograms more easily than he could?!

At the second minute, the pressure reached 400 kilograms.

"Creak..."

A grating, teeth-grinding sound came from Wang Meng's knees.

The immense pressure churned his internal organs, and the bloodshot veins in his eyes seemed ready to burst.

He stared fixedly at Jiang Yue, his gaze shifting from initial contempt to an incomprehensible terror.

Jiang Yue remained motionless. Aside from a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, his torso didn't bend even a millimeter.

"I don't believe it!! I have years of training foundation—how could I lose here?!"

Wang Meng roared madly in his heart. He refused to accept it, and he didn't want to lose these crucial points.

He began to recklessly channel his strength, squeezing every last shred of potential from his body into his legs and spine.

He gave it his all.

Tiny beads of blood seeped through his skin as capillaries burst, and he was nearing his absolute limit.

At the third minute, 450 kilograms. This was the life-or-death threshold that most new recruits could not cross.

"Ughhh—!"

Wang Meng let out a desperate, piercing howl.

All his will, all his blood and energy, finally reached their limit under the absolute physical pressure.

The collapse wasn't gradual—it was a sudden breach of the dam.

Bang!

With a dull sound of bone cracking, Wang Meng's knees slammed heavily onto the alloy base.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his entire body went limp in an instant. The hydraulic column's safety lock let out a sharp screech as it locked tight, stopping an inch above his head.

The victor was decided.

On the other side, the hydraulic column on Jiang Yue's shoulder slowly rose.

He rolled his slightly sore shoulder, exhaled a long, turbid breath, and stepped out of the base with a steady gait.

The crowd around him, which had been roaring wildly over their bets, fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone stared at Jiang Yue as if he were a monster.

That new recruit, pegged as the weakling at 286 kilograms, had actually worn down a burly man nearing 400 kilograms, and he hadn't even furrowed his brow the entire time.

"Fuck! This is a ghost story!"

A few furious curses from veteran soldiers broke the silence. Those who had bet heavily on Wang Meng spat in disgust, hurling their worthless chips to the ground.

On the high platform.

Butcher Zhang raised the half-bare ridge of his brow, his single eye taking a fresh, careful measure of Jiang Yue.

He didn't care about the gamblers' wins or losses—the house always took its cut. But he was intrigued by the quality Jiang Yue had displayed.

"Extremely high bone density, freakish visceral pressure resistance, and most importantly... that breathing technique for Force Unloading." Butcher Zhang gave a high appraisal in his mind.

The mechanical arm quickly tapped a few commands on the terminal.

"Five days to forge such a solid foundation—that's a tough bastard."

Butcher Zhang stubbed out his cigar on the table and announced coldly, "Your appearance fee, based on this round's flow, is 5 points."

"Plus your own bet doubling, that's 30 points total."

"Ding."

A faint vibration came from Jiang Yue's wristband.

He raised his wrist, and a line of deep blue characters appeared before his eyes.

[Credit: 35 points.]

[Current Balance: 35 points.]

Jiang Yue looked at those thirty-five points, and a trace of faint satisfaction finally flickered in his eyes.

For someone who was nearly sick of eating nutrient paste, this was the first substantial resource he had earned.

These points would be enough for him to eat beast-flesh every day for the next three days, and even exchange for some auxiliary medicines to accelerate blood and qi circulation, allowing him to go all out!