And so… the training began.
However, they had no idea of the horrifying thing they were about to witness.
Uncle Acok stood firm, executing powerful combat moves—punches and kicks delivered with strength and precision.
The muscles in his arms tensed with every strike, his breathing was steady yet forceful, and beads of sweat began to form along his temples.
His troops followed with discipline, their bodies moving in unison like rows of war machines, guided by Uncle Acok's sharp shouts, like a ruthless instructor scolding his students.
At a glance, he looked like the most stubborn military trainer in the country.
Haven't they done this move already? Why again? Are they the type who stick to mastering a single skill instead of juggling many average ones? Al wondered.
Hmph. But this is way too monotonous—not my style.
Uncle Acok noticed Al lagging at the back, moving lazily, looking completely drained, eyes vacant like his mind was somewhere else. He smirked slyly and said,
