Vegeta-Style Special Training (Part One)

"What do you want with me?" Lan still answered coldly.

"During the day, I saw that the clothes on your back had been cut."

"Then I heard you complain about being poor, so I thought, since we're classmates, we should help each other."

"So I brought some needle and thread over. I wanted to help sew it up for you." Rin looked into Lan's eyes and spoke sincerely.

Lan's pupils suddenly widened a little.

When he had watched Naruto in his previous life, his assessment of Nohara Rin had been: "This girl really has green-tea traits written all over her. She cares so much about both Obito and Kakashi that she often makes Obito jealous."

Only when he truly faced her did he understand. It was simply: the world treated me with bleak cruelty, and I repaid the world with warmth.

Some sand seemed to have gotten into his eyes. He quickly turned away and answered coldly, "No need. You're just doing something unnecessary."

With that, he walked into the yard without looking back and slammed the door shut with a "bang."

Rin and Obito were left standing where they were.

Obito looked at the tightly shut courtyard gate, then at Rin's empty hands, and curled his lip.

"Hmph, what kind of attitude is that! He says he doesn't appreciate it, but his hands didn't stop moving. What an arrogant tsundere bastard!"

Rin, however, looked toward the courtyard gate and said softly,

"Lan... isn't as bad as everyone thinks. At least, just now, Lan saved them."

Back in the yard, Lan set down the needle and thread, returned to the training area, and prepared to keep doing squats, but Rin's sincere eyes kept drifting through his mind.

"Damn it!" He irritably scratched his hair. "What am I thinking? She's a troublemaker."

Gaining power was what mattered most! He took a deep breath, forced himself to focus, and settled into a horse stance again.

Just then, the system prompt suddenly rang out:

[Detected that the host, in a "meaningless bullying" scenario, displayed extreme contempt for "meaningless bullying behavior" (Vegeta has no interest in weaklings unrelated to the mission), and used absolute power to eliminate the perpetrators (Vegeta is always cold to the end toward his enemies), matching Vegeta's personality traits]

[Template progress triggered +5%. Current progress: 20%.]

[New ability unlocked: Ki Blast (Beginner)—can rapidly condense the body's "ki" in the palm, forming a small energy projectile to attack.]

Lan abruptly stopped moving, his eyes instantly lighting up!

Looks like Obito and Rin aren't my trouble, but my lucky stars. This is awesome!

He immediately focused and mobilized the "ki" inside his body according to the system's instructions.

A surge of energy rapidly gathered in his right palm. A faint white sphere of light appeared there, radiating scorching waves.

"So this is... a Ki Blast?" Lan stared at the ball of light, the corners of his mouth rising uncontrollably.

Though it was only a prototype, it was an attack method unique to ki. There was no need to form hand seals at all, and it was extremely fast!

And this was only the beginning! As he unlocked higher levels in the future, Ki Blast would only grow stronger and stronger!

When the time came, he would have to find a Tailed Beast and properly compare which was stronger, the Tailed Beast Bomb or his Ki Blast, hahaha.

Thinking of that, his mood soared. The strange feeling Rin had stirred up earlier had long since been tossed to the back of his mind.

Power! Only power was everything!

He clenched his fist, and the ball of light in his palm instantly dispersed.

His progress was now 20%. He had already unlocked Saiyan Physique (Beginner), Ki Control (Beginner), Battle Instinct (Beginner), and Ki Blast (Beginner).

He still had to keep imitating Vegeta and keep getting stronger.

At four in the morning, on the abandoned training ground at the edge of the Uchiha Clan Compound, the dead silence was torn apart by dull impact after dull impact, the sound grating enough to set teeth on edge.

Bang!! Bang!!

Lan's bare upper body bulged with veins. Sweat washed over his sharply defined cheeks and his chest, which was covered in old and new scars, like a waterfall, then smashed onto the cracked ground, instantly steaming into white mist.

He lay flat on the ground, with a specially made sandbag half as tall as a person pressing down on his chest. It was filled with heavy iron ore and mixed with even denser lead blocks, weighing a full one hundred and fifty jin.

What he was doing was a hell-level weighted sit-up.

Every time he rose, he had to compress the still-unfamiliar "ki" inside him, gather it in his waist and abdomen, then unleash it violently at the highest point of his movement, making his upper body lift off the ground by about a foot along with the weight of the sandbag before crashing heavily back down.

The enormous impact made him feel, with every rise, as if the muscles in his waist and abdomen were being torn apart in spasms of pain, and his abdominal cavity felt like it had been twisted tight by iron clamps.

"Three hundred... one..."

His voice was hoarse, like a worn-out bellows being dragged open. His vision had long since blurred. Sweat flowed into his eyes, bringing a burning sting.

The soreness in his muscles had already surpassed the level of a "tide." It was a torture that seemed as if it would tear apart and crush every single strand of muscle fiber.

His heart hammered wildly in his chest, as if it would burst through its restraints in the next second.

"Just... give up..." A weak yet extremely tempting voice sounded in his mind. "You're only an ordinary Earthling. You're not really Vegeta... Training at this level will make your body collapse..."

"Shut up!"

Lan suddenly clenched his teeth, blood seeping from his gums as the metallic taste spread through his mouth.

Though he was not like Vegeta, who could throw away everything to surpass his opponent, for the glory of the Saiyans.

He, too, was someone who dared to struggle against an unfair fate!

Why should an ordinary Uchiha clansman like him be reduced in the original plot to

As an Uchiha clansman, although he had already awakened the Sharingan, it was only a single-tomoe in one eye. In this era where even a pair of three-tomoe Sharingan was not enough to rely on, his only support was the Vegeta Template!

If he did not imitate Vegeta's nearly self-abusive madness, if he did not train himself to the limit, what would he use to survive in this damned ninja world? What would he use to face the wars to come and those monsters who could split mountains and fill seas with the slightest move?

[System Mission: Vegeta-Style Brutal Special Training]

[Mission Requirement: Continue for one week]

[Current Progress: Physical Fitness 4%, Strike Resistance 5%, Gravity Simulation 19%. Overall completion below 10%]

[Failure Penalty: Template progress will be deducted by 10%]

The cold system prompt was like ice water poured over his head, making him shudder.

Now, no matter what, he could not give up. The penalty for failure was not something he could bear!

To complete this special training mission, he had already asked Teacher Umino Ikkaku for a week of leave on the grounds of feeling unwell.

"Three hundred... two!"

For the next week, Lan lived like a madman.

At dawn, weighted running.

The route was the steepest "Bone-Breaking Slope" on the mountain behind the clan compound. Shards of stone dug into the soles of his shoes, and every step felt like stepping on broken glass.

Iron sandbags were tied all around his ankles and calves, their heavy weight dragging him downward. Only when the sun climbed overhead, when sweat had soaked through his inner clothes and even his throat was dry enough to burn, did he support himself on his knees and gasp for breath.

In the morning, he wrung out his strength and stamina to their limits.

He did push-ups until his arms went numb, not even blinking when sweat dripped into his eye sockets, until his elbow went "crack" and his whole body toppled to the ground.

He hung from the horizontal bar doing pull-ups, the weighted iron sandbags cutting painfully into his shoulders, his finger bones feeling as if they would split. When his vision went black, he lightly bit the tip of his tongue, using the sharp pain to force himself awake.

When he squatted, his knees creaked. He stared at the cracks on the ground and counted, stubbornly pushing from two hundred to three hundred.

Rest?

From the ten minutes he had gritted his teeth to endure at the start, to now, when even three minutes felt extravagant, his body was screaming, but he simply refused to give up.