"Hey, kid, I have something for you."
The Elder approached, taking off two green-colored bracelets from his wrists. The objects looked simple, made of iron carved with intricate patterns. Zego looked at them suspiciously.
"What are these, Elder?" Zego asked, his eyes narrowed.
The Elder didn't answer. He immediately placed the bracelets on Zego's ankles. The bracelets felt cold and strange, but Zego didn't feel their weight until he tried to lift his feet. It was as if his legs were tied to a boulder weighing tons. He couldn't move. "Elder... I can't move!"
"Your physique is quite well-trained, so I know your limits. This is just a small challenge," the Elder replied, completely unconcerned. "Follow me from behind. If you fall more than 10 steps behind me, I will hit you."
Zego frowned. "You're so mean, Elder." Zego tried with all his might. One step. He succeeded. But at the same time, the Elder, who was already a few steps ahead, suddenly turned and landed a punch on Zego's shoulder. The punch felt like a hammer hitting bone.
"Argh! That hurts, old man!" Zego winced in pain.
"I am your Master, not an old man. You can avoid my attacks if you can. Come on, walk fast, don't be sluggish or I'll beat your face to a pulp!" the Elder threatened.
(Argh, this is really hell,) Zego thought to himself. He tried his hardest to walk, dragging every step. The Elder's movements were very fast, his arrogant grin always visible in the distance. Zego tried to catch up, but the 10-step distance was easily passed. Suddenly, the Elder appeared next to him, landing a hard punch on Zego's stomach.
"Argh!" Zego fell, clutching his stomach.
"Focus and concentrate. Otherwise, you'll just be my punching bag," the Elder said, his voice cold.
Zego got up, the pain in his body turning into anger and determination. He kept walking, trying to match the Elder's pace. The Elder's movements were not only fast but also unpredictable. He would appear anywhere, anytime, and every punch that landed felt like an electric shock. Zego slowly learned to focus his attention, anticipate every move, and try to dodge even though the weight on his legs felt incredibly heavy.
They walked continuously. The sun set, replaced by the darkness of night. The gorge's winds howled like damned souls, carrying the scent of iron and petrified wood. Zego's every breath was ragged, each gasp scraping his raw throat. Zego, who was already exhausted, kept trying. It was not until midnight that he finally reached the actual training ground. In front of him was a mountain with a high staircase, soaring up like a snake climbing into the sky. The stairs seemed endless.
"There are 100,000 steps here," the Elder said, "and this is your first training task. Up there is my temple. Inside that temple is a giant barrel that you have to fill with water until it's full for 1 month. Every week, I will gradually increase the weight of the bracelets. You have to carry the water up and keep filling it. Within 1 month, the barrel must be full. If not, I will not continue your training."
Zego was speechless. He just stared at the towering stairs, then at the bracelets on his ankles. The bracelets vibrated with his pounding heart. Zego steeled his resolve. (I have to become stronger,) his spirit burned. Without saying a word, Zego immediately began his task.
Zego started climbing, one step at a time, with his burdened legs. He took water from the river at the base of the mountain using a bucket, then carried it. The water spilled with every heavy step. His legs trembled violently, every muscle screamed, begging him to stop. But Zego did not stop. He kept pushing himself, pushing his body beyond the limits he thought he could reach.
Day after day passed. The first week felt like hell. The pain in his legs had gone numb, replaced by an extraordinary fatigue. The Elder only watched from a distance, occasionally appearing to hit Zego if he looked distracted or his movements slowed down. The punches were not just to punish, but also to teach. Every one of the Elder's punches was a lesson in speed, focus, and agility. Zego slowly began to understand the rhythm of his attacks, even though he rarely managed to dodge them.
Entering the second week, the Elder added two more bracelets to Zego's ankles. The weight doubled. Zego fell. He felt despair. He couldn't even walk straight. However, he remembered the faces of Zeos, Gran, and Anna. He remembered the promise he had made to himself. With all his might, he got up again, carried the bucket of water, and continued the ascent. The 100,000 steps felt like 1 million steps. Every step was a struggle. Zego started counting, one by one, while forcing himself onward. In between the pain and exhaustion, sometimes Zego felt a flicker—like a minnow darting through his veins. The sensation was gone before he could grasp it.
Night came, and Zego was still carrying his bucket of water. The cold of the night pierced his bones, but he kept climbing. He only slept 2-3 hours a day. Even when he slept, his dreams were filled with images of the Elder hitting him, making him wake up in a cold sweat. Every time he woke up, he immediately returned to his task.
Entering the third week, the Elder added a fourth bracelet to Zego's ankles. This time, Zego didn't fall. He just stumbled, but he managed to steady himself. He took the bucket, carried it, and started climbing. His legs felt like swollen iron, but he kept moving. Zego began to find his unique rhythm. He no longer tried to run, but he walked with a stable, slow, yet certain pace. The Elder watched from a distance, a proud smile on his scarred lips. When Zego stumbled, the Elder landed a punch on his back—but this time, a strange coolness seeped through the pain, steadying his buckling knees.
The fourth week was the hardest week. The Elder added a fifth bracelet, which made Zego's body almost unable to move. But Zego didn't give up. He began to concentrate all his strength on his legs, as if he was trying to break the iron bonds. His movements became very slow, but he still moved forward.
Zego began to feel something strange. The bracelets felt like a part of him. The pain and fatigue were gone, replaced by a sensation of energy flowing through his entire body. He felt every muscle, every tendon, every bone in his body. He also began to feel the Qi around him. It was a lesson the Elder didn't teach, but Zego learned on his own.
At the end of the month, Zego successfully completed his task. The giant barrel inside the temple was full of water, which he had carried with great difficulty for 1 month. His legs had become accustomed to the weight of the bracelets. Zego stood in front of the temple, his body drenched in sweat, his eyes radiating strong determination.
The Elder appeared beside him, looked at the full barrel, and smiled. "You did it," the Elder said, his tone filled with genuine pride.
Zego just nodded, unable to speak. He was too exhausted to talk. The Elder patted Zego's shoulder, then removed all the bracelets from his ankles. Zego staggered. The absence of weight was a yawning chasm. His muscles sang with phantom memory, begging for resistance.
"Welcome to the second stage of your training. Now, I will teach you the 'Yin-Yang' technique—a technique that made emperors kneel," the Elder said, his eyes turning sharp again.
Zego smiled. (I managed to survive), he thought. He no longer felt afraid of this training. He knew he could get through anything.