F4's Self-Abusive Training

The training grounds of the Spirit Academy were scorched by the afternoon sun. The air was thick with the briny scent of evaporating sweat, mingled with the earthy aroma of soil and grass.

"Ha!"

Dai Mubai let out a thunderous roar as a surge of robust Soul Power erupted from within him.

His muscles bulged, straining against his clothes, while a wicked glint flickered in his eyes and his golden hair whipped about without a breeze.

With his White Tiger Martial Soul manifested, he radiated the fierce, regal aura of a king.

Opposite him, Ma Hongjun was no less impressive, his body wreathed in the scorching flames of his Evil Fire Phoenix, distorting the air around him.

The two traded blows, their fists and feet colliding with dull, rhythmic thuds. Every exchange kicked up a violent gust of wind, swirling the dust on the ground.

Oscar sat on the stone steps nearby, a cigar dangling from his lips while his hands tightly gripped several freshly conjured Recovery Large Sausages. He watched the battle with focused intensity, ready to provide support at a moment's notice.

Tang San stood alone in a corner of the training ground, his eyes tightly shut. He was not participating in the sparring; instead, he had summoned his pitch-black Clear Sky Hammer, which hovered silently before him. The ten-thousand-year black soul ring encircling the hammer emitted a pulse of heart-stopping pressure.

Tang San was familiarizing himself over and over with the surging power within him after his Soul Power broke through to level 72, feeling the terrifying, mountain-shaking potential contained within the "Titan Hammer."

A lackey dressed in a gray tunic came running from afar, panting, a strange expression on his face. Not daring to disturb the sparring Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun, nor approach the intimidating Tang San, he trotted over to Oscar and lowered his voice to report.

"Young Master Oscar, Young Master Dai, there is... there is news about those women."

Oscar glanced at him lazily. "Speak."

"Reporting, Brother Mubai, Xiao Wu and the other three are currently having hot pot with the shop owner, Qin Chuan." The lackey's voice dropped even lower, terrified of being overheard by Dai Mubai in the distance.

Upon hearing this, Oscar nearly choked on his cigar.

"Hot pot? Now? At this hour?" He looked incredulously at the scorching sun overhead, then back at his brothers sweating buckets on the field. Had these women lost their minds?

Dai Mubai, whose ears were sharp, caught the word "hot pot." His movements faltered, and he took a punch to the chest from Ma Hongjun, stumbling back several steps.

"The hell did you say?" Ignoring the pain in his chest, Dai Mubai rushed over to the lackey and grabbed him by the collar.

"Y-Young Master Dai, it's true." The lackey turned pale with fright. "Our men saw it with their own eyes. They're at that Claw Machine Shop. The table is set, the pot is steaming, and it smells so good... the whole street can smell it."

Dai Mubai released him, stunned. He imagined the scene: four women who should have been sweating on the training ground were instead huddled around a man, eating a steaming hot pot.

A nameless rage flared up from the depths of his heart.

"Hmph, at a time like this, they're still eating hot pot! Keep watching!" Dai Mubai gritted his teeth, the words squeezed through his clenched jaw. This was an insult to their grueling training!

The lackey, as if granted amnesty, scrambled away.

The training continued, but the atmosphere had turned noticeably more volatile. Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun's attacks carried a newfound ruthlessness, as if they were treating their opponents as those women who were leisurely eating hot pot.

Half an hour later, the lackey ran back, his expression even more bizarre than before.

"Reporting, Brother Mubai, we found that Zhu Zhuqing and the others are currently making dumplings with the shop owner, Qin Chuan."

"Pfft!" Oscar sprayed the water he had just taken a sip of.

"Making dumplings?" Dai Mubai stopped, veins bulging on his forehead. "Are you f***ing sure?"

"Absolutely certain!" The lackey looked miserable. "They moved the table to the shop entrance, kneading dough and rolling wrappers. That Qin Chuan just sat there watching, and they'd feed him bits of the filling every now and then... laughing and talking, it's like... like they're celebrating a festival."

"Heh, interesting." Tang San, who had been silent, finally opened his eyes. He retracted the Clear Sky Hammer, a cold curve touching his lips. "Keep watching."

Over the next few days, the F4 seemed to enter a state of madness.

They poured all their anger and confusion into their cultivation.

The medicinal herbs sent by Dai Mubai's family were shoved into their mouths like candy.

The medicinal power rampaged through their bodies, the resulting agony twisting their faces, yet not one of them complained. They simply gritted their teeth, frantically circulating their Soul Power to refine that violent energy into their own cultivation.

And the intelligence on those four women arrived like snowflakes, right on time every day.

"Reporting, Brother Mubai, we found that Ning Rongrong and the others are currently watching a movie with the shop owner, Qin Chuan."

"Reporting, Brother Mubai, we found that Bai Chenxiang and the others are currently flying kites with the shop owner, Qin Chuan."

Each report was like a potent drug, deeply irritating the F4's fragile nerves.

They couldn't understand it, not at all. Had those women really fallen this far? Giving up cultivation to spend their days eating, drinking, and playing with a mortal?

In Tang San's dormitory, the four sat cross-legged, steam still rising from their medicinal baths.

"Strange, have they really become decadent? They haven't trained or meditated for days," Dai Mubai said, wiping his damp hair, his brows locked in a frown.

"Who cares!" Ma Hongjun slapped his thigh hard. "The more they act like this, the better it is for us! A month from now, let's see what they have to fight us with!"

"Exactly!" Oscar added, looking excited. "As we grow, they wither. We're getting stronger every day while they're out fooling around. In the tournament, Third Brother, you won't even need to bring out the Clear Sky Hammer; the three of us will be able to bring them to heel!"

A smile of absolute confidence appeared on Tang San's face. This was exactly the effect he wanted.

Let the enemy sink into comfort and pleasure while he sublimated through pain and tempering. This feeling of having his destiny firmly in his own hands made him feel incredibly satisfied.

"They're finished, those female demons are completely finished!" Dai Mubai concluded, his tone filled with glee. "But that's for the best. A month from now, let's see how you die in the arena!"

Days passed in this manner for a week.

Tang San's Soul Power, bolstered by massive resources and his own diligence, steadily climbed to the mid-stage of level 72.

Dai Mubai, Ma Hongjun, and Oscar also successfully broke through, each gaining one level of Soul Power.

On the training ground, the four felt the power surging within them, their faces beaming with confident smiles.

This immersion in cultivation, the feeling of personally touching upon newfound strength, brought them an unprecedented sense of satisfaction—one even more intoxicating than the bars and beds of pleasure they had once frequented.

The four of them were drenched in sweat, looking into each other's eyes and seeing the flames of determination burning within.

"When the Freshman Arena Tournament arrives, we will wash away our shame!" Dai Mubai roared.

The four gathered in a circle, stacking their hands heavily atop one another as if performing some sacred ritual.

"Right!"

"Very good!"

"Excellent!"

Their voices echoed through the empty training ground, brimming with drive and boundless longing for the future.

It was as if they could already see it: one month from now, on that arena stage, they would trample the four women who had once humiliated them beneath their feet.