System interaction was something only Xiao Tianyang could perceive. So when Tang San saw his friend sitting still for so long, sweat glistening on his skin and his expression unreadable, worry began to creep into his heart.
"Tianyang… are you still feeling that bad?" Tang San thought, concern flashing across his eyes.
Just as he made up his mind to say something, Xiao Tianyang suddenly opened his eyes and sat upright with a jolt.
"I'm ready!" he declared, staring toward the rising sun with firm resolve. "I've made up my mind!"
Tang San blinked. "'Little San'er?'" he echoed, frowning slightly.
During their chats, he'd mentioned that his father sometimes called him that. He hadn't expected Xiao Tianyang to adopt the nickname, especially so naturally.
But… looking at the boy beside him, Tang San didn't correct him.
Xiao Tianyang stood with conviction in his eyes. "I want to get stronger. I hate feeling weak."
Those words struck a chord. Tang San looked at him, suddenly feeling as if Xiao Tianyang wasn't just a peer—but someone stronger than him, someone worth following.
"Then let's do it together!" he smiled.
"Fine. But don't think you'll ever surpass me, Little San'er." Xiao Tianyang grinned before turning and walking away.
Under the rising sun, Tang San watched his figure fade into the light.
That feeling again…
Like watching an older brother walk ahead, steady and reliable.
Over the next ten days, Xiao Tianyang and Tang San became inseparable.
They met at dawn every day at the same hillside, parting only at noon. Sometimes, Xiao Tianyang would stay for lunch at Tang San's house. While Tang San practiced his Purple Demon Eye, Xiao Tianyang cultivated the Nine Yang Divine Art beside him—silent harmony, without disrupting each other.
Outside of meditation, Xiao Tianyang brought a training style Tang San had never seen before—modern physical fitness methods from another world.
Squats, push-ups, sit-ups, explosive jumps… All organized into daily routines. And with Tang San's crafting skills, they even built simple dumbbells and resistance tools.
At first, Xiao Tianyang had worried. His growth had been rapid—too rapid. Would Tang San become suspicious?
But he needn't have been concerned.
Tang San was a secret-keeper himself. He understood boundaries and oddities. He didn't press, didn't judge.
Instead, he cherished this rare companionship.
The two shared a bond forged in hardship, in discipline, and most importantly—in understanding.
On the tenth morning, the sun shone bright. Xiao Tianyang stood at the peak with open arms, basking in the warmth.
Not far behind, Tang San was finishing a set of squats—with 25kg weights strapped to each side.
Xiao Tianyang turned toward him with a sly grin. "Little San'er, how about a match today?"
"Huh?" Tang San paused mid-squat, blinking. "What for?"
"Because you're no match for me in running, arm wrestling, squat jumps… Besides fighting, do you have any other options left?"
Tang San twitched. "Brother Tianyang, if you keep talking like that, you'll lose all your friends."
"Having you is enough," Xiao Tianyang laughed.
Tang San narrowed his eyes. "That won't work on me anymore. I'm immune."
He remembered the last time they'd "competed."
Xiao Tianyang had said something similar, and despite knowing he might lose, Tang San had agreed—only to be completely crushed. It wasn't even close.
On paper, Tang San should've had the advantage with the Xuan Tian Record. But in raw physical prowess? Xiao Tianyang was a monster.
They ate the same food. Slept the same hours. Yet somehow, Xiao Tianyang had grown ten centimeters taller in just ten days.
As a result, Tang San had lost so often he'd grudgingly accepted calling him "Brother Tianyang."
Competition now meant bruised ego and sore muscles.
But then—
"You can use any technique you want," Xiao Tianyang offered casually. "I'll only use fists and feet. No martial arts, no tricks. Fair enough?"
Tang San froze.
He'd been training hidden weapons in front of Xiao Tianyang this whole time—Xiao Tianyang had even teased him about it.
"You want to learn?" Tang San had once asked.
But Xiao Tianyang had only smirked and replied, "You can't even beat me bare-handed. Why bother with gimmicks?"
Now… he was inviting Tang San to use anything—hidden weapons included.
Tempting.
Very tempting.
Tang San clenched his fists. He wanted to win. Just once.
"Alright," he said seriously. "But let's do it tomorrow."
"Sure," Xiao Tianyang said without hesitation.
Then he leaned in and whispered, "Planning to make more hidden weapons tonight?"
"No," Tang San answered seriously. "I'm preparing ointment—for you."
Xiao Tianyang arched a brow.
This kid's got guts…
But in his heart, he thought smugly: You think ointment will save you? Wait till you see the Nine Yang Divine Art in full force.
That evening, as the sky turned orange and the village settled into quiet, Tang Hao returned home from the forge.
He glanced around—and stopped short when he saw Tang San crouched at the doorway, brewing medicinal herbs.
"You hurt?" Tang Hao asked, a rare flicker of concern in his eyes.
"No, Dad," Tang San said, stirring the herbs. "This is for Brother Tianyang. We're sparring tomorrow, and I don't want him to get seriously hurt."
Tang Hao raised an eyebrow.
He remembered that brat Xiao Tianyang sneaking over a few times, hammering away at the forge like he owned the place.
His lips twitched.
Looking again at Tang San preparing ointment for someone else, he sighed inwardly.
Kid, you might be the one needing that salve tomorrow…
"Just don't overdo it," Tang Hao said blandly. "It's just a spar. Don't make trouble."
"I won't," Tang San said earnestly.
Tang Hao waved a hand and walked inside, shaking his head.
Let them fight. They're boys, after all. Better they beat each other now than become soft later.