Excavating the human body's treasures, enhancing physical strength.
This was exactly what Shanu wanted most right now. Hesitating for even a second felt like disrespecting his own body. Without a second thought, he added it to his shopping cart.
As for the final item…
[Peter Griffin's Jeans]
Type: Equipment
Price: 500 points
Description: Wearing them slightly reduces intelligence and may increase your "hate value" in the eyes of others.
Seller Notes: Suitable for big eaters.
The effect was interesting, but the cost-effectiveness was low. Shanu thought it over briefly, shook his head, and decided not to waste points here.
He submitted the shopping cart and checked out.
This refresh had yielded four items he liked, totaling 3,500 points spent.
Remaining points: 39,525—still plenty.
Shanu closed the trading market and opened his backpack, first taking out the black adjustable-weight training suit.
By default, it was set to the minimum weight of 1 kg, similar to a regular tight-fitting outfit.
It fit perfectly, with high elasticity and flexibility, and very good breathability.
Feeling comfortable, he moved his arms and legs a bit, then began testing the weight adjustment.
"Better to start safely… let's try 250 kg first."
Thud!
A heavy pressure pressed down on him, and his body sank slightly for a moment before he calmly readjusted his stance.
He did a set of handstand push-ups, jogged a lap around the orchard, and used "Soru" a few times between the wooden posts—
His landings were still precise, though slightly slower.
"Not enough. Far from enough."
Shanu shook his head. For his pre-sea self, 250 kg might have been challenging, but now it barely phased him.
He gradually increased the weight: 300, 350… up to 500 kg.
Finally, Shanu felt the sense of resistance where every movement required immense effort, as if walking through a thick liquid—but without overstraining his muscles.
He had found a perfect balance.
"Let's keep it at this number for now."
He was satisfied with the current effect. Once fully adapted, he could further increase the weight during training.
Next, he opened the "Bronze Head" manual.
After a rough scan, he decided to train it alongside Tekkai.
Both were body-focused martial techniques, compatible enough to train together without conflict.
Yet, their methods had essential differences.
"Bronze Head" might sound simple, but it was part of the Flesh Furnace Technique, a proper internal martial arts manual.
It relied on insight and skill—while intensely strengthening the body, one had to study and comprehend its secrets to truly master it.
Tekkai, by contrast, was purely external. Its method was simpler and more direct.
As the only defensive technique among the Rokushiki, its principle was to control blood flow, concentrating blood in muscles to increase hardness.
To achieve this, aside from general strength training, the core method was impact resistance training.
In simple terms, one repeatedly strikes the body with hard implements, gradually improving durability.
In the Navy or CP units, training was done in pairs—one strikes while the other rests, alternating repeatedly.
So to fully benefit from Tekkai, a training partner was essential.
Fortunately, Shanu had no shortage of people around him now.
His workshop wouldn't open until next year; the refugees he brought only had orchard duties, leaving them relatively free.
He could select a few young, strong ones daily to help train Tekkai.
Shanu disliked postponing decisions—once made, he acted immediately.
After a morning session on Bronze Head, it was time for Tekkai in the afternoon.
Scarface and the "Fat Bandit" he had punched into a tree before were brought to the training ground, each holding a hard wooden stick, nervously eyeing Shanu.
"Sir, just to confirm… I heard right, yes? You want me to strike you 500 times with full force?"
"Yep. Start with the back. But not just 500—that's the first round, so you don't tire out."
Shanu stretched his back muscles and instructed: "After your 500, Fat Bull will take over. You rest, and when he's tired, you swap back."
Fat Bull, the "Fat Bandit," nodded eagerly: "Got it, boss!"
"But…"
Scarface hesitated.
A glare from Shanu made him straighten up. Clutching the wooden stick, he struck hard at Shanu's back.
Shanu planted his stance, focused, and followed the manual's tip—accelerating blood flow in his back muscles, waiting for the impact.
Thud.
Scarface's strike sent a tingle through his hands. He worried—did he overdo it?
"Huh?"
Shanu turned, displeased. "You're holding back! Using full strength, yet it's like tickling me—feel nothing!"
Clenching his teeth, Scarface struck again with full force, repeatedly—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The dull rhythm echoed through the orchard. After 20–30 swings, the wooden stick snapped into several pieces.
"Ah?"
Scarface stared at the tiny remaining fragment. This was the hardest wood he could find in the Korbo Mountains! And it broke so quickly?
Shanu sighed, looking at the splinters. His muscle strength was already so high that a wooden stick barely affected him.
"Throw the stick away."
He looked at Fat Bull. "Try your spiked club."
"Huh?"
Even the naive Fat Bull froze. Scarface said, "Sir, that club weighs 60–70 kg and is a real combat weapon."
"No problem. I like it."
Shanu grinned, eyeing the enormous club almost as tall as a person. "Consider it early adaptation to Thunder Eight Trigrams."
"Okay… but maybe dull the spikes a bit?"
Scarface hesitated. Without modification, hundreds of repeated strikes could pierce him.
Shanu nodded—reasonable.
Moments later, the spikes were dulled.
Scarface and Fat Bull alternated, striking Shanu's back like blacksmiths hammering metal.
Shanu remained expressionless, eyes fixed ahead. Occasionally he grimaced from pain, but quickly endured.
Pain? Yes. But if he couldn't withstand even this, how could he grow stronger?
In the support of the statue and weighted suit, he relentlessly trained his body. Day after day, once Tekkai and Bronze Head were fully mastered, what heights would his physical strength reach?