Xiao Ke was at his breaking point when a sharp, metallic chime cut through the strain, snapping him out of his meditative state.
His instructor, Qin Bing, watched him, a flicker of confusion on her face. Xiao Ke was drenched, his hair matted and clothes soaked through with sweat. The Tiger Valor Art was standard-issue training for the military, the basic method every promising soldier used to awaken their Martial Veins and build up their Origin Force. It was supposed to be a straightforward, almost calming practice.
So why did Xiao Ke look like he'd just gone ten rounds in a deathmatch every time he did it?
She knew the experience was different for everyone. Some guys could sit for hours, easily gathering pools of Origin Force to light up the nodes along their Martial Veins. Others struggled for every drop, their progress painfully slow. The army chalked it up to talent—you either had it or you didn't.
It's just so strange, she thought, studying the exhausted but resolute look on his face. He's a natural at combat, picking up fighting techniques like he was born to them. Why does he struggle so much with this?
She wasn't about to tell him he had the raw talent of a rock, of course. Instead, she kept her voice even. "How was it?"
"Same as always," he said, his voice steady.
Xiao Ke didn't see it as a struggle. The training was grueling, sure, but the payoff was real. He could feel the reservoir of Origin Force he'd built up, and he was ready to use tonight's harvest to ignite a second bone in his body.
"Alright," Qin Bing said with a nod. "Clean up in here, then get some rest. I'm turning in."
"Yes, ma'am."
She left with a yawn, leaving Xiao Ke alone in the quiet training room. He didn't clean up right away. Instead, he settled back onto the cushion, closed his eyes, and turned his focus inward.
A line of energy materialized in his mind's eye, dotted with twelve nodes. This was his Martial Vein. Only the very first one glowed like a lone star in a dark sky, marking him as a Level 1 Battle Soldier. It was his only source of combat-ready Origin Force.
Then his awareness shifted to the framework of his body—206 bones, a silent, dark scaffold. All except one: a single lumbar vertebra that pulsed with a soft, jade-like light.
That one illuminated bone was the source of his newfound power. An average person's punch might land with about 100 jin of force. Xiao Ke had always been average, nothing special in the Killer Whale Camp. But since that vertebra had flared to life, his punch now packed a 200-jin wallop. It was the kind of power you'd expect from a highly trained athlete.
In this broken world, though, raw strength wasn't everything. You needed Origin Force. As a Level 1 soldier, his single active node gave him a paltry 100 Kahe—the bare minimum. Igniting a second node was a long way off.
So, he turned his attention to the only other path he had: igniting more bones. He tried to channel the potent liquid energy toward his skull, curious what kind of change that might bring. But it was no use. The energy refused to travel to his head or his limbs. The realization dawned on him: for now, he was limited to the bones in his torso.
Fine. He shifted his focus to his sacrum, the bone at the base of his spine. He guided the energy, and this time, it flowed. He felt a familiar sensation as the bone was tempered, transforming from dull ivory to a glowing, translucent jewel under the force.
Xiao Ke's eyes snapped open. He sprang to his feet, a blur of motion as he unleashed a flurry of strikes into the empty air. The power was intoxicating. He could feel it instantly—his punch was now a solid 300 jin.
A grin spread across his face. Three times the strength of a normal man. Tyson, one of history's most legendary fighters, topped out around 900 jin. If he could just ignite a few more bones in his torso, he wouldn't just be strong; he'd be a literal king of strength.
The best part? On the outside, he looked the same. Still lean, almost deceptively slender. He had a handsome, scholarly air about him. No one would ever guess the explosive power coiled within that unassuming frame. Anyone who underestimated him was in for a rude awakening.
He finally cleaned the room and crashed for a couple of hours before the camp's wake-up whistle blared.
Xiao Ke and his men, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, fell into their morning routine: dress, wash up, assemble. The plan was the same as yesterday—breakfast, then head to the town square to train the recruits.
The mess hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter. They had just gotten their food and sat down when a commotion broke out across the room. A crowd had gathered around Decanus Qiao Dong, their voices a mix of awe and envy. The whispers reached their table: in just two days, Qiao Dong had ignited two Martial Vein nodes. He was a Level 2 Battle Soldier.
"What?" Duan Canglong hissed under his breath. "He's already Level 2?"
Luo Hou slumped in his seat. "So much for the Centurion contest tomorrow. The power gap is too wide. We don't stand a chance."
Xiao Ke felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He'd never thought much of Qiao Dong, but this was a game-changer. I underestimated him, Xiao Ke thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. He's my main rival for this promotion.
Across the room, Qiao Dong was basking in the attention, every inch the future Centurion. He caught Xiao Ke's gaze and offered a smug, triumphant smile. But beneath the confidence, his eyes held a flash of pure malice.