The evening after the tournament, the training grounds buzzed with renewed purpose. Outer disciples grabbed allies, practiced drills, and recited formulas until their voices cracked. The sect elders stood on the grand dais, nodding in satisfaction.
Elias wandered through the courtyard, still wearing his light-bending "Chameleon Veil," looking deliberately unremarkable. Dust kicked up by sand sandals, scents of herbal ointments and sweat, rotating banners—he took it all in like an anthropologist studying a tribal rite.
"Train harder," the elder's voice boomed. "Outwork your blood, outthink your soul!"
The disciples cheered. Among them, Fu Yu—pale, gaunt, eyes hollow—moved like a ghost.
Elias sidled over. "Fu Yu," he greeted quietly. "You look down?"
Fu Yu offered a shaky smile. "I... didn't even make the top fifty." His voice trembled.
Elias considered the kid—average body, average Qi, but a spark of desperate ambition.
"Don't take it personally," Elias said, offering reassurance. "Most of the real talent was still here. You—you weren't far off."
They walked together to the training wall. Fu Yu jabbed a dull Qi strike that fizzled in mid-air.
"It's useless," Fu Yu sighed. "I tried everything in the library."
Elias looked at that technique—its patterns, timing, inefficiencies. The divine sense interface lit up around him. He saw it all: micro timing gaps, inefficient Qi leakage, misaligned muscle relaxation.
He waited until Fu Yu took a break. Then, in the quiet of the crowd's chanting. Elias walked up to him, "hey go take a rest, don't let the fatigue catch up to you, who know you might be better tomorrow." Fu yu replied and walked away ghostly. "Ok, see you tomorrow then".
Elias looked at him with pity and walked to the chambers.
He took in the sight of the sects and wondered how he got into this world. He left it at the back of his mind. By the time Elias got back from the training area, it was already evening.
He focused his divine sense on Fu Yu, to check up on him, Fu yu was laying on his bed looking frustrated. Elias looked at him with pity again and decided to help him
Elias reached out—and slipped a refined cultivation formula into Fu Yu's mind.
It felt like a gentle breeze. A whisper of code.
Fu Yu was dazed out of the bed in his room.
Elias watched him from afar.
"What was that?" Fu Yu gasped.
It felt like a large amount of information was packed into my mind.
Fu yu looked at his memories and found a cultivation technique and martial art manual with no name. "Where did this come from, should i practice it." He hesitated for a moment and thought, "am a failure, what do I have to lose." He followed the cultivation technique, he was surprised as how easy it was to understand.
Elias had broken it down like it was meant for a toddler.
Fu Yu cultivated the technique and was amazed at the instant effect, all his deficiency was immediately fixed and empowered. He cultivated all night. When he was at his limit he practiced the martial technique.
Ans when he did. His fist moved —this time with coordination. Muscle tension optimized. Qi flow smooth and contained.
The next blow . . . cracked—like wood splitting.
It wasn't perfect, but it was a breakthrough.
Fu Yu staggered back, eyes wide. "Where did that come from?!"
"Did I just do that, wow," He continued to practice until he was exhausted
In he exhaustion, he thanked whoever gave him that technique and dozed off.
Back in his chamber, Elias watched as he sat cross-legged. He removed his divine sense from Fu Yu area and focused on his task.
Multiple spectral windows hovered before him, looping each tournament match as his divine sense cataloged:
Muscle tension graphs
Step timing sequences
Breathing waveforms
Qi flow maps
Formation stances
Energy pulse patterns
He'd built the raw data during the fights, but now he advanced to simulation.
In his mind, he sketched a VR-style martial engine—a fractal of biomechanics and energy dynamics. His divine sense sculpted the digital battlefield.
He began feeding it. Step by step. Motion by motion. Strike by strike.
But raw data wasn't enough. Elias knew how computation worked. He needed iteration.
He spun up an AI framework in his subconscious—a layered, adaptive kernel trained on the tournament traces. It projected thousands of alternate match outcomes:
What if a punch landed deeper?
What if someone sidestepped instead of parried?
What if both opponents launched mid-air Qi blasts?
Each simulation produced refined data—optimized timing, angles, Qi trajectories.
Elias curated it, building multiple "combat archetypes":
Close-quarter kinetic slugger
Aerial dancer
Qi-projection artillery
Tactical ranged skirmisher
He then engaged in mental rehearsal. Every night, literally thousands of avatars flitted through his conscious VR engine. His subconscious digested them, wiring micro-reflexes, recalibrating muscle pacing, adjusting internal Qi valves.
By dawn, he could feel the shifts—even his heart rate honed itself.
Elias smirked. He was preparing not just to fight—but to simulate victory before the first strike.