Ultimate Tempering

After a brief rest, the heavy panting in the formation had yet to fully subside when the one-eyed instructor on the high platform spoke again.

His voice was not loud, but wrapped in surging blood and qi, it transformed into a tangible sound wave.

The sound drilled clearly into everyone's eardrums, directly resonating with their blood and qi, carrying a heart-stopping pressure.

"Yesterday, I taught you the eighteen stances of the Federal Basic Body Tempering Technique."

The instructor looked down from on high, his gaze cold. "You practiced in the barracks, you practiced in the open ground, you sweated buckets, and you thought you'd touched the threshold of martial arts?"

He let out a sneer, the old torn scar at the corner of his mouth twisting along with it, making him look even more ferocious.

"Foolish."

"Martial arts is the art of killing. During the Great Crusade Era, the human federation dug these techniques out of the corpses of alien races. Did you think you could master them by shutting yourselves away and practicing in isolation?"

The instructor took a step forward, his heavy military boot stomping hard on the metal platform. His blood and qi surged around him, his form like a dormant ferocious beast, carrying immense visual impact.

"The key to tempering the skin lies not in strength, but in striking!"

"Your own blood and qi are weak, unable to actively flush the skin membrane, so you must rely on external force! Use external force to shake it, use heavy blows to force it! Fist to flesh, smash that stagnant blood and qi deep into the skin membrane, and only then can you shed your mortal shell!"

The instructor pointed directly at the formation below and issued a military order.

"Today, no more solo practice."

"Everyone, pair up in twos. No protective gear. Live combat sparring."

"Use your fists to pound on each other's bones. Anyone who doesn't go all out will be deemed as avoiding combat and dismissed on the spot!"

As his words fell, the entire steel formation plunged into a brief dead silence.

Then, a suppressed uproar exploded.

Everyone understood the meaning of live combat sparring without protective gear.

This wasn't just high-pressure training; it was one-sided beating and legal venting.

The high-intensity training and strict rations had already sown deep resentment among many.

The hidden flames sparked by resource competition finally had a legitimate outlet.

"Pair up, begin!"

At the edge of the square, hundreds of military police soldiers pulled back the bolts of their bolters in unison. The cold mechanical sound completely shattered the remaining hesitation of the recruits.

The crowd surged rapidly, the originally neat formation breaking apart.

Those recruits who were on good terms and of similar strength quickly grouped together, avoiding severe injury from outsiders.

Meanwhile, those from better backgrounds with formidable blood and qi made no effort to hide their aggression.

They cast their gazes toward the surrounding civilian recruits, their eyes filled with condescending scrutiny and mockery.

In their eyes, these civilians with no backing were the best flesh-and-blood punching bags.

In the chaos of pairing up, Jiang Yue stood still on the spot.

His figure was thin, his gray training uniform slightly oversized. His gaze was calm as still water, silently maintaining his usual breathing rhythm, not rushing to find a suitable opponent like the others.

But time ticked by, minute after minute.

The surrounding crowd quickly completed their pairings, each taking their stance.

Beside Jiang Yue, there was no one.

No one was willing to pair with him.

The reason was simple.

In the military camp, everything was about practicality.

In the previous Body Tempering Technique drill, Jiang Yue's performance had been far too mediocre. His movements were rigid and mechanical, like a puppet on strings, utterly devoid of spirit.

When others practiced their fists, their blood and qi surged.

When he practiced his fists, his blood and qi showed nothing, his tendons and bones made no sound.

Sparring with someone like that was worthless. It couldn't help leverage force to temper one's own blood and qi, nor could it provide any sense of crisis or pressure from his stiff counterattacks.

In this war machine that valued efficiency, Jiang Yue was like the most inferior piece of rotten wood discarded by the roadside.

He didn't even qualify to be a whetstone.

At that moment, on the other side of the formation, another person stood isolated.

He had a slender build, his gray training uniform washed until it was faded. His hair was disheveled, his eyes like a lone wolf in the wilderness, filled with pure martial fanaticism and a cold disregard for life and death.

The surrounding recruits, faces full of fear, instinctively backed away, leaving a vacuum of empty space around him.

Not far away, Li Tai, who had just paired up, lowered his voice and urgently warned, "Jiang Yue, don't look at him... That's Shen Qing. He's a madman."

Li Tai swallowed, still shaken. "He's from a fallen martial arts family. He had a reputation for violence before enlisting..."

Before he finished, a military police soldier strode over. His cold gaze swept between Jiang Yue and Shen Qing.

"You two, step forward. Form a pair."

The military order was as unyielding as a mountain.

Li Tai instantly fell silent, a flicker of despair and sympathy flashing in his eyes. Faced with a martial maniac like this, a frail, talentless commoner like Jiang Yue had a fate already sealed.

Jiang Yue's expression did not change.

Ignoring Li Tai, he stepped straight out of the line and stopped three paces before Shen Qing.

Shen Qing's gaze landed on him. One look, and his brow furrowed slightly, undisguised disappointment flickering in his eyes.

"Your steps are hollow, your qi and blood stagnant."

Shen Qing's voice was hoarse and cold, devoid of any emotion. "Your Basic Body Forging Technique has been trained into a dead frame. No matter how standard the movements, without qi and blood flowing through, you're just a marionette."

He shook his head slightly. "You can't withstand my fist. Concede, go accept punishment from the supervisory squad—it's better than breaking bones."

This was no mockery, but an objective verdict based on Shen Qing's martial instincts. Jiang Yue was too weak—so weak that he held no value as a sparring partner.

Jiang Yue said not a word.

He sank his legs slightly, bones creaking softly, and assumed the third stance of Basic Body Forging Technique, "Gate Sealing." Arms crossed to protect his chest, spine slightly arched. The posture was rigid, yet flawless.

"Come." Jiang Yue spat out a single word.

A fierce aura surged in Shen Qing's eyes. In the realm of a martial maniac, there was no mercy—only the seizure of power and the crushing of the weak.

"Asking for trouble."

The words fell, and he moved.

No unnecessary flourishes. His right foot stomped heavily on the alloy deck, a dull boom echoing as his entire body shot forward like a hunting leopard released from a bowstring.

Three-tenths power.

Shen Qing only drove three-tenths of his qi and blood. His fist tore through the air, letting out a sharp shriek.

From below, it struck straight at the midline of Jiang Yue's crossed arms. The true intent of the ancient martial art "Drill Fist" was fused within, the force contained, specifically breaking through hard techniques.

Boom!

Fist met arms.

Jiang Yue felt as if his arms had been struck by a thousand-pound iron hammer. His proud, standard "Gate Sealing" shattered like brittle paper under the qi-and-blood-shaking force of Shen Qing's fist.

The force penetrated bone, his defenses torn open.

Shen Qing's fist momentum did not wane. The remaining force slammed heavily into Jiang Yue's chest.

Pfft—

Jiang Yue's chest cavity shuddered violently, his qi and blood thrown into chaos. His body flew backward, skidding several meters across the alloy deck before barely stopping. A mouthful of blood foam mixed with internal organ fragments burst out.

One move.

A single move with only three-tenths power—utter, unquestionable crushing.

In the distance, Li Tai couldn't bear to look away, and a few cold snickers sounded from the surroundings.

In the military camp, the weak were prey, and beating the bottom-feeders was just natural entertainment.

Shen Qing withdrew his fist and stood, his gaze indifferent, not pursuing further.

The spar was over. A frail body taking that punch, internal organs shaken—there was no way he could stand again.

Yet.

Jiang Yue, lying on the cold alloy deck, was not focused on the tearing pain in his chest at all.

His eyes were locked onto the edge of his retina.

There, the progress bar that had been stagnant like dead water due to his weak qi and blood was now blazing with a faint light!

Code
[Action: Body Forging]
[Status: High-pressure stimulation! External force entering the body, passively forced circulation!]
[Current Progress: +++]

Jiang Yue's pupils contracted.

Since yesterday, he had trained tirelessly, yet could never unlock the [Body Forging] entry. The reason was clear—his foundation was too thin.

Even with the [Food Digestion] entry extracting essence from the nutrient paste, his control over his own body was too weak to actively guide that essence toward his skin and muscles.

That essence lay stagnant like dead mud in his organs, unable to produce even a fraction of body-tempering effect.

But just now!

Shen Qing's overwhelmingly fierce punch, though it shattered his defenses and heavily damaged his organs, had turned the destructive force penetrating his body into a perfectly natural forging hammer!

One hammer struck down, and the essence stagnating in his organs was forcibly scattered, hammered deep into the skin and muscles of his chest!

The pain was real.

The internal injuries were real.

But the ultimate tempering his skin and muscles underwent in that life-or-death instant was even more real!