Luo Yun had run less than a hundred meters when he fell.
He landed face-first in the snow, getting a mouthful of it.
The icy feeling spread from his mouth through his whole body. He lay there on the ground, unable to get up for a while.
Luo Shang stood beside him, making no move to help.
"Get up."
Luo Yun lay on the ground, his eyes stinging a little.
When had someone as pampered as him ever seen his father treat him with such coldness?
He buried his face in the snow and lay there for a while. Then he braced his hands against the ground and slowly got back up.
Keep running.
That whole day, Luo Yun had no idea how many times he fell.
Every time he went down, Luo Shang stood nearby and watched. He didn't help him up or urge him on. He just stood there.
When he fell for the last time, Luo Yun really couldn't get back up.
He lay in the snow, gasping for breath. The clouds of white vapor he exhaled were quickly swept away by the wind.
Snowflakes from the sky landed on his face, icy cold.
Luo Shang finally crouched down.
He looked into his son's eyes. They held no tears, only exhaustion and resentment.
"Are you tired?" Luo Shang asked.
"...Tired."
"Then will you keep running tomorrow?"
Luo Yun fell silent.
He really wanted to say he was done running.
But he knew his father was doing this for his own good.
"...I'll run." As soon as he said those words, Luo Yun passed out.
Luo Shang looked at him. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, though it was hard to tell whether he was relieved or heartbroken.
He lifted Luo Yun from the snow and carried him back to the residence.
Shen Yinshuang had prepared a medicinal bath long ago. Steam rose from the herbal brew in the wooden tub, filling the room with its bitter smell.
She lowered Luo Yun into the tub. Looking at her son's pale face, she finally couldn't hold back her tears. They fell, one by one, into the medicinal bath.
"Does it really have to be this way?" Her voice was soft, choked with tears.
Luo Shang stood at the doorway with his back to her, silent for a long time.
"...It's all so he can survive."
Three months passed like this.
Frost Ridge City, training ground.
Luo Yun stood in the snow, bare-chested, no longer carrying the stone frame on his back.
The fair-skinned little boy who had smiled all day long just three months ago seemed like an entirely different person.
His skin had grown rougher. His body still had a child's shape, but he was noticeably sturdier.
Most striking were his eyes. They held less innocence and more composure than anyone his age should have had.
He stood there, unmoving as wind and snow beat against him.
Luo Shang stood across from him, holding a wooden sword.
"No running today," Luo Shang said.
Luo Yun raised an eyebrow. "Then what are we doing?"
Luo Shang lifted the wooden sword into a fighting stance.
"Release your Martial Soul."
"Fight me."
Luo Yun froze for a moment.
He looked at the imposing man across from him—his father, King Frost Extreme, who was said to be a Titled Douluo-level powerhouse.
Still, he had never interfered in the affairs of the Heaven Dou Empire.
"...Dad, are you joking?"
"What do you think?"
Luo Yun looked at Luo Shang's expression. He knew it all too well. It was exactly the same as when his father had made him run outside bare-chested a month ago.
Luo Yun drew a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"Fine."
"Sun Corona!"
Luo Yun gave a low shout. He held out his right hand, and the phantom of a long, golden-green sword slowly emerged from his palm.
The blade radiated a warm light, dispelling the surrounding chill.
Luo Yun gripped the hilt, his eyes filled with resolve.
Looking at him, Luo Shang made his usual teasing remark.
"Nice sword."
"Too bad the swordsman's no good."
Luo Yun: "..."
"Come on." Luo Shang raised the wooden sword in his hand. "Use all your strength and defeat me."
Luo Yun tightened his grip on the hilt and drew a deep breath.
Without hesitation, he charged forward.
Then Luo Shang smacked him across the shoulder with the wooden sword. Luo Yun went flying sideways and crashed into the snow.
"Too slow." Luo Shang remained where he was, without even shifting his feet.
Luo Yun grimaced as he got up and rubbed his shoulder. It burned like fire.
"Again."
As he spoke, Luo Yun charged forward once more.
Smack!
The wooden sword cracked against his back, the sound sharp enough to set teeth on edge.
Luo Yun grunted. His knee buckled, and he dropped to one knee.
It hurt.
All morning, Luo Yun did nothing but take a beating.
He was sent flying, tripped, and struck until he was rolling and scrambling across the ground.
At the worst of it, Luo Shang's wooden sword struck him directly on the wrist. The Sun Corona Sword nearly flew from his hand, and his entire arm went numb, as if he'd been electrocuted.
But every time Luo Yun fell, he got back up faster than before.
It wasn't that it didn't hurt.
It was that once the pain reached a certain point, he got used to it.
It wasn't that he refused to give up.
It was that the more he lost, the more he wanted to win.
Luo Shang watched without saying a word, but each time Luo Yun got back up, the light in his eyes grew brighter.
The training went on for another whole day.
At dusk, when Shen Yinshuang brought them dinner, she saw Luo Yun covered in injuries and nearly dropped the food container in her hands.
She parted her lips as if to say something, then swallowed the words.
She only said softly, "I made chicken soup for you. Drink it while it's hot."
Luo Yun grinned, then sucked in a sharp breath as the wound at the corner of his mouth pulled. But he didn't stop smiling.
"Mom, I managed to touch Dad three times today!"
Shen Yinshuang glanced at Luo Shang. He turned his face away slightly.
"...Mm, very good."
That night.
Steam rose from the water in the medicinal tub, and the room was filled with the pungent bitterness of herbs—stronger even than the coptis water on the first day.
Shen Yinshuang helped Luo Yun sit beside the tub. He glanced at the inky water and made a face.
"Mom, why's today's bath even darker than yesterday's?"
"I added some herbs," Shen Yinshuang said softly. "They help improve blood circulation and reduce bruising."
Luo Yun nodded and cautiously dipped one foot in.
The next moment, his whole body jerked as if he'd been shocked.
"Psssh!!!"
The medicinal brew seeped into every swollen, bruised patch of skin, as if countless needles were stabbing him.
Clenching his teeth, Luo Yun lowered his whole leg into the tub.
Then he lowered the rest of his body.
The instant he sank into the tub, a surge of agony welled up from every part of him all at once.
Luo Yun's face turned deathly pale. He gripped the rim of the tub, his knuckles whitening.
"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!!!!!"
Shen Yinshuang stood beside him, clutching her handkerchief tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Before long, Luo Yun's vision went black, and he passed out.
Shen Yinshuang was startled and hurriedly reached out to check his breathing.
Thankfully, he was still breathing. He had only passed out from the pain.
"Go a little easier on him tomorrow." Shen Yinshuang shot Luo Shang, standing outside the door, a reproachful look.
Luo Shang didn't answer.
Half a month later.
Training ground.
Luo Yun struck with his final sword thrust, stopping its tip three inches from Luo Shang's chest.
Luo Shang dodged to the side and lightly parried with his wooden sword. A crisp sound rang out.
"Stop," Luo Shang said.
Luo Yun lowered his sword. His breathing was steady, and only a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
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