Devil Training, Luo Li's Transformation

Luo Yun didn't even make it a hundred meters before he fell.

Face-first into the snow, he ended up with a mouthful of ice.

The freezing sensation spread from his mouth through his entire body, and he lay there, unable to pull himself up for a long while.

Luo Shang stood nearby, making no move to help.

"Get up."

Luo Yun lay on the ground, his eyes stinging.

Having been pampered his whole life, when had he ever seen his father treat him with such indifference?

He buried his face in the snow for a moment, then braced his hands against the ground and slowly crawled to his feet.

He kept running.

Throughout the entire day, Luo Yun lost count of how many times he fell.

Every time he went down, Luo Shang just stood by and watched, neither offering a hand nor urging him on; he simply stood there.

When he fell for the final time, Luo Yun truly couldn't get back up.

He lay there in the snow, gasping for air, the white mist of his breath quickly scattered by the wind.

Snowflakes fell from the sky onto his face, icy cold.

Luo Shang finally crouched down.

He looked into his son's eyes; there were no tears there, only exhaustion and defiance.

"Are you tired?" Luo Shang asked.

"...Tired."

"Then do you still want to keep running tomorrow?"

Luo Yun fell silent.

He desperately wanted to say no.

But he knew his father was doing this for his own good.

"...Run." As soon as he said the word, Luo Yun fainted.

Luo Shang glanced at him, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly—it was hard to tell if it was relief or heartache.

He picked Luo Yun up from the snow and returned to the estate.

Shen Yinshuang had already prepared a medicinal bath; the broth in the wooden tub was steaming, and a bitter scent filled the room.

She placed Luo Yun into the tub and, looking at her son's pale face, could no longer hold back her tears, which dripped one by one into the medicinal water.

"Is this really necessary?" Her voice was soft, choked with sobs.

Luo Shang stood at the doorway, his back to her, silent for a long time.

"...This is the only way he can survive."

Three months passed in this manner.

Frost Ridge City, training grounds.

Luo Yun stood in the snow, shirtless, no longer carrying the stone frame on his back.

The fair, chubby little boy who had been all smiles three months ago seemed like a different person.

His skin had roughened, and while his physique still held the contours of a child, he was noticeably sturdier.

Most striking were his eyes; they had lost some of their innocence and gained a composure rarely seen in his peers.

He stood there, wind and snow lashing against him, not moving an inch.

Luo Shang stood opposite him, holding a wooden sword.

"No running today," Luo Shang said.

Luo Yun raised an eyebrow. "Then what?"

Luo Shang raised the wooden sword, assuming a combat stance.

"Release your Martial Soul."

"Fight me."

Luo Yun was stunned.

He looked at the burly man across from him—his father, King Frost Extreme, rumored to be a powerhouse at the Title Douluo level.

Though he never interfered in the internal affairs of the Heaven Dou Empire.

"...Dad, are you joking?"

"What do you think?"

Luo Yun studied Luo Shang's expression; it was one he knew all too well, the exact same look he'd had a month ago when he'd ordered him to go running shirtless.

Luo Yun took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Fine."

"Sun Corona!"

Luo Yun let out a low shout, his right hand gripping the empty air as the phantom of a gold-and-green longsword slowly emerged from his palm.

The blade radiated a warm glow, dispelling the surrounding chill entirely.

Luo Yun grasped the hilt, his eyes filled with determination.

Luo Shang watched Luo Yun and habitually teased him.

"Nice sword."

"Pity the one wielding it isn't much."

Luo Yun: "..."

"Come on." Luo Shang raised the wooden sword in his hand. "Use all your strength to defeat me."

Luo Yun tightened his grip on the hilt and took a deep breath.

Without hesitation, he charged straight forward.

Then, a wooden sword lashed across his shoulder, sending him flying sideways to crash into the snow.

"Too slow." Luo Shang stood where he was, not having moved his feet an inch.

Luo Yun grimaced as he scrambled up from the ground, rubbing his shoulder, which burned with searing pain.

"Again."

Luo Yun said, charging forward once more.

Smack!

The wooden sword struck his back with a crisp sound that set one's teeth on edge.

Luo Yun let out a muffled groan, his knees buckling until he dropped to one knee.

Pain.

For the entire morning, Luo Yun did nothing but take a beating.

He was whipped away, tripped, and beaten until he was rolling and crawling.

The most brutal strike came when Luo Shang's wooden sword lashed directly against his wrist; the Sun Corona Sword nearly flew from his grip, and his entire arm went numb, as if he had been electrocuted.

Yet, every time Luo Yun fell, he climbed back up faster than the time before.

It wasn't that it didn't hurt.

It was that once the pain reached a certain point, he grew accustomed to it.

It wasn't that he refused to admit defeat.

It was that once he had lost enough times, he wanted to win even more.

Luo Shang watched it all, saying nothing, but every time Luo Yun climbed back up, the light in his eyes grew a fraction brighter.

This training lasted for the entire day.

By dusk, when Shen Yinshuang came to deliver their meal, she nearly dropped the food box upon seeing Luo Yun covered in injuries.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed the words back down.

She only said softly, "I stewed some chicken soup for you both; drink it while it's hot."

Luo Yun grinned, but the movement pulled at a wound on his lip, making him gasp in pain—yet he didn't let his smile fade.

"Mom, I managed to touch Dad three times today!"

Shen Yinshuang glanced at Luo Shang, who slightly averted his gaze.

"...Mm, that's wonderful."

That night.

Steam rose from the medicinal barrel, and the room was filled with the pungent, bitter scent of herbs—even more overpowering than the coptis water from the first day.

Shen Yinshuang helped Luo Yun sit by the edge of the barrel. Luo Yun glanced at the pitch-black water and made a face.

"Mom, why is this one even darker than yesterday's?"

"I added some herbs," Shen Yinshuang said softly. "To promote blood circulation and remove blood stasis."

Luo Yun nodded and cautiously dipped one foot in.

The next second, his entire body jolted as if he had been electrocuted.

"Sss!!!"

The medicinal broth seeped into every bruised patch of skin, feeling as if countless needles were pricking him.

Luo Yun gritted his teeth and stepped his entire leg inside.

Then, his whole body followed.

The moment he submerged himself into the medicinal barrel, a wave of excruciating pain surged from every part of his body simultaneously.

Luo Yun's face turned deathly pale instantly; his hands gripped the edge of the barrel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!!!!!"

Shen Yinshuang stood to the side, clutching her handkerchief tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Before long, Luo Yun's vision went black, and he passed out cold.

Shen Yinshuang was startled and hurriedly reached out to check his breath.

Fortunately, he was still breathing; he had simply fainted from the pain.

"Hit him two fewer times tomorrow." Shen Yinshuang shot a resentful glare at Luo Shang outside the door.

Luo Shang did not reply.

Half a month later.

Training grounds.

Luo Yun swung his final sword strike, the tip stopping three inches from Luo Shang's chest.

Luo Shang sidestepped, parrying with his wooden sword with a crisp clack.

"Stop," Luo Shang said.

Luo Yun sheathed his sword, his breathing steady, with only a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

PS: The pacing of this book might be a bit slow...