Mu Lan's knowledge dwarfed Yao Lao's by light-years. After all, Mu Lan had spent twenty years mastering Defying the God as an Assassin—and in this new life, he'd spent the last three days drilling ancient body-forging techniques that most players wouldn't discover for years.
Right now, he could shatter Yao Lao with a single strike.
The crowd surrounding the mat exchanged uneasy glances.
It's like watching a dry twig walk onto the mat… One hit, and he'll snap. He should apologize now—while he still can.
Mu Lan stepped onto the sparring platform. Yao Lao stood waiting, arms crossed, eyes burning with contempt.
Moments later, Yao Lao announced the rules—cold and formal.
"Do you consent to heavy strikes? Even to the point of unconsciousness… or worse?"
Mu Lan didn't flinch. "If you've got the guts to throw them, I've got the guts to take them."
The class gasped—again.
Who is this kid?
Only Beng Zeng grinned, eyes shining with pride.
"Go get him, Mu! Show him what you're made of!"
Whispers rippled through the crowd:
Have these two lost their minds? That's Yao Lao—Military Academy elite! Did they eat courage for breakfast?
"Then let's begin," Yao Lao growled.
More students poured into the gym. What started as a classroom drill had become a full-blown spectacle. Someone even started a countdown.
3…
2…
1…
FIGHT!
Yao Lao lunged instantly—fist cocked, aimed straight for Mu Lan's temple. To everyone else, this was the end. One punch. That's all it'll take.
But Mu Lan tilted his head 45 degrees—just enough.
Yao Lao's fist whistled past his ear, slicing empty air.
Silence.
Then shock.
He dodged it?!
Before Yao Lao could recover, Mu Lan drove a front kick straight into his solar plexus.
Yao Lao never saw it coming. Still reeling from his missed strike, he was caught completely off guard.
The impact sent him flying like a cannonball—slamming into the far wall with a thunderous crack.
The crowd froze.
They'd expected Mu Lan to crumple.
Instead, Yao Lao was the one unconscious on the floor.
Mu Lan stood perfectly still, breathing steady.
He hadn't used flashy moves or brute strength. Just one kick—honed through ten thousand repetitions.
"I fear not the man who practices ten thousand kicks once… but the man who practices one kick ten thousand times."
Now he understood the truth in those words.
A few students rushed forward, hoisting Yao Lao's limp body and carrying him toward the infirmary.
Mu Lan watched them go, then calmly stepped off the mat and walked back to Beng Zeng. Class would start in ten minutes.
"Mu," Beng whispered, eyes wide, "what was that technique? Why didn't you teach me? I thought we were brothers!"
"I didn't know it'd be this strong," Mu Lan admitted. "I learned it from those martial arts books—the ones you bought. We've been training together every day. Your kick should be just as powerful… but you've only ever used it on me. You never saw its real effect. Try it on someone else—you'll send them flying too."
Beng exhaled slowly. "So… that's the power of one kick, practiced ten thousand times…"
He grinned. "Anyway—what are we doing in Defying the God today? Grinding levels? Hunting gear?"
Mu Lan lowered his voice. "Keep it quiet. After that display, everyone's watching us now. Our every move matters. If anyone overhears our plans, they'll follow us—or worse."
He glanced around. "Right now, we're still Level 0. That means no death penalty—no XP loss, no item drops. But the moment we hit Level 1, dying will cost us. So before we level up, we need to craft legendary gear—the best possible equipment. Being Level 0 isn't a weakness… it's an advantage. And we're going to use it."
"Got it," Beng said, nodding firmly. "I'm with you. Let's get stronger—together."
"Of course," Mu Lan smiled. "We're going to be kings of this game."
Just then, the teacher walked in.
Class was about to begin.
But the real lesson—the lesson about power, discipline, and second chances—had already been taught.