"Begin."
The command had barely left Long Xiuyuan's lips when the air in the training ground seemed to explode.
Situ Xuan moved with the sudden, violent acceleration of a coiled spring releasing its tension. He didn't waste a single millisecond on a combat stance or a warning shout. His fist ripped through the air, aiming straight for Long Xiuyuan's face. The punch carried no flourish, no intricate technique, and no hesitation. It was a strike defined purely by raw, unadulterated force. The speed was staggering; the wind pressure generated by the motion shrieked like a sharp whistle, cutting through the silence of the arena.
A flash of genuine surprise flickered in Long Xiuyuan's eyes. He had expected hesitation from a student, or perhaps a clumsy opening move. He hadn't expected this.
He instinctively leaned his upper body back, his right arm snapping up in a blur to block the incoming strike.
Bang!
Fist met forearm with a heavy, dull thud that echoed loudly across the open training ground. The sound was sickeningly solid, like a sledgehammer striking a log.
Long Xiuyuan's arm quivered slightly, numbed by the sheer density of the blow. His eyebrows rose, and the lazy, indifferent expression he had worn since entering the classroom vanished completely.
What a heavy fist, Long Xiuyuan thought, quietly shocked.
As an Intermediate Instructor at East Sea Academy, he had seen hundreds of talented children. However, at this age, most young Spirit Masters relied entirely on their Spirit Power to do damage. Their physical bodies were usually weak and undeveloped. Almost none of them could threaten him with sheer physical strength alone.
But Situ Xuan was different. His strike contained a pure, explosive force that felt less like a ten-year-old boy and more like the seasoned veterans Long Xiuyuan had fought alongside in the army. It was the kind of strength forged in blood and sweat, not in a classroom.
Situ Xuan did not pause to admire his work. Without missing a beat, his left leg scythed through the air like a heavy battle-axe, aiming for the teacher's ribs.
Long Xiuyuan instantly adjusted his strategy. He stopped meeting force with force. Instead, he sidestepped smoothly, his right hand hooking toward Situ Xuan's wrist, intending to grapple the boy and test his reflexes.
However, just as Long Xiuyuan moved, Situ Xuan defied gravity. His kick hadn't even reached its peak when he forcibly altered his momentum in mid-air. With a terrifying display of core strength, he jerked his knee upward, ramming it toward Long Xiuyuan's chin.
Smack!
Long Xiuyuan's palm intercepted the knee at the very last instant, blocking the critical hit. But the force behind the knee strike was immense, driving the instructor back two full steps before he could regain his balance.
"Oh?"
A spark of genuine interest brightened Long Xiuyuan's gray-blue eyes. The teacher's competitive spirit was beginning to wake up.
Situ Xuan's assault never slackened. He was relentless. Every strike was precise, ruthless, and devoid of wasted motion. He used his fists, palms, elbows, and knees as lethal instruments. To the onlookers, the boy looked like a living engine of slaughter, his entire body transformed into a Sharp Weapon designed to overwhelm the enemy.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The two figures blurred at the center of the field. The drum-like thuds of clashing limbs reverberated through the air, creating a rhythm of violence that mesmerized the spectators.
The students of Class 1-3 stood frozen on the sidelines, their mouths dry.
Lin Yao, the self-proclaimed class leader, watched with his mouth hanging open. Earlier, he had dismissed Situ Xuan as merely brawny and unrefined. After all, an Innate Spirit Power of Rank three was hardly impressive compared to his own Rank seven. He had assumed Situ Xuan was trash.
Now, he watched that same youth trade head-on blows with Long Xiuyuan—and force the teacher back.
Everyone knew the instructor hadn't released his Martial Soul or used any Spirit Power. It was obvious he was holding back significantly to match the student's level. Yet, the raw, meaty sound of the contact proved that Situ Xuan was fighting on a level that shouldn't be possible for a child.
"That guy... is he really just an Original Body Martial Soul user?" Zhou Tianyang muttered, his eyes wide. "He fights like a monster."
Mo Xiaoyu clenched the hem of her shirt, her fingernails biting into her palms. She couldn't even follow their movements clearly; she could only hear the brutal clashes and see the afterimages. "It's too fast... I can't see them."
At the center of the storm, Situ Xuan's eyes were locked on every minute shift in Long Xiuyuan's posture.
Their fighting styles were polar opposites. Situ Xuan's style was wild, direct, and overwhelming, like a storm crashing against a cliff. Long Xiuyuan, on the other hand, fought like a prowling hunter. He was efficient, slipping past force, parrying strikes, and striking at gaps in the defense.
To Situ Xuan, this difference only made the fight more exhilarating.
"Again!"
Situ Xuan barked out the word, his voice rough with adrenaline. He shifted mid-punch, turning his fist into a sharp knife-hand slash aimed directly at Long Xiuyuan's throat.
Long Xiuyuan's gaze sharpened. "Quick change," he noted, impressed.
He raised an arm to parry the throat strike while his left leg quietly swept low, aiming for Situ Xuan's supporting ankle to trip him.
But Situ Xuan had anticipated the counter.
His left foot exploded downward against the ground, launching him airborne just as the sweep came through. While in the air, his right leg whipped around like a steel flail, aiming for Long Xiuyuan's temple.
Thud!
Long Xiuyuan retreated rapidly, leaning his head back. Yet, the heel of Situ Xuan's shoe still grazed his shoulder.
A faint sting registered in the teacher's mind.
He glanced down at his shoulder. His pristine uniform was split at the seam, and the skin beneath was slightly reddened. A student had actually managed to land a hit on him.
"Interesting." A slight, dangerous smile curved the corners of his mouth.
Situ Xuan landed on the black volcanic rock, breathing hard. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but his eyes remained as sharp as blades.
"Your fighting style isn't academy-taught," Long Xiuyuan said slowly, analyzing the boy in front of him. "Is it a family style? Or did you learn this in the underground rings?"
Situ Xuan gave no answer. He simply adjusted his stance, his gaze hardening.
Long Xiuyuan read the silence perfectly and chuckled. "I thought so."
His figure vanished mid-sentence.
Situ Xuan's pupils shrank to the size of pinholes. Every muscle in his body snapped taut in alarm.
Too fast!
Long Xiuyuan's speed had suddenly multiplied several-fold. He was no longer holding back his physical speed.
"The three minutes are almost up," Long Xiuyuan's voice sounded right beside his ear, ghost-like. "Last move—show me your limit."
Instinct took over completely. Situ Xuan didn't think; he reacted. He spun around, his fist cannoning out with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Boom!!!
Fists collided in the center of the arena.
A visible shockwave seemed to burst between them. Situ Xuan staggered back several steps, his arms completely numb from the impact. Long Xiuyuan, however, stood unmoving, rooted to the ground like a mountain.
Silence descended on the training ground.
"Time."
Long Xiuyuan glanced at his mechanical watch, instantly reverting to his languid, relaxed demeanor. "Not bad. You lasted the full three minutes."
Situ Xuan's chest heaved violently as he gasped for air. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, and his knuckles were red and swollen. Yet, despite the pain and exhaustion, a satisfied smile touched his lips. He had fought a true expert.
"Twenty laps with weights," Long Xiuyuan said evenly, turning around and heading for the exit. "The rest of you, resume sparring. Do not slack off."
Situ Xuan took a deep breath to steady himself and followed the teacher's retreating figure. Their footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, the clamor of the training hall fading behind them until it was replaced by the low hum of the soul-lamps lining the walls.
They arrived at a worn iron door labeled "Equipment Room." Long Xiuyuan fished out a ring of keys from his pocket. He flicked through them once, found the right one, and inserted it into the lock.
The lock clicked open, releasing a stale smell of cold metal and old leather.
"Pick your own," Long Xiuyuan said, leaning against the doorframe. He pointed at the neat rows of weight belts hanging along the wall. "Start at twenty kilos."
Situ Xuan walked into the room. His gaze swept over the black alloy belts. Their surfaces were ridged for grip and looked incredibly dense. He reached out and grasped one in the middle of the rack. The coldness of the metal reminded him of the raw iron in the forges of Aolai City.
"This one."
He hefted it. The belt was heavy, causing his hand to dip slightly. Thirty kilos.
Long Xiuyuan raised an eyebrow at the choice but said nothing to dissuade him. Instead, he reached into a nearby bin and tossed two wrist weights toward the boy. "With those, it will be thirty-five kilos."
Situ Xuan caught them and began strapping the gear on briskly.
When the last buckle snapped shut, a heavy pressure clamped down on his waist and thighs. The weight dragged at his body, making every movement a deliberate effort.
The familiar sensation of restriction summoned memories he usually kept buried—memories of jogging in prison shackles, of a life far harder than any academy training.
The Original Body Martial Soul provided an all-around boost to his physique, allowing him to surpass the physical norms for his age. However, that lead was bought by neglecting other aspects of cultivation. He refused to fall behind. To survive, he had to train like a madman.
"Go run."
Long Xiuyuan stood in the doorway, the afternoon light gilding his profile and casting a long shadow into the room. "Finish twenty laps, then find me."
Situ Xuan nodded silently. He adjusted the weights one last time and headed for the outer track, his steps heavy but determined.