While Wilson adopted an air of knowing everything in the world, Fulen was also observing him.
There was nothing much to say about his expression; it still felt strange. Wilson was leaning back against the sofa, biting the hard pipe stem with his canine teeth, and even so, a mask named 'smile' was still plastered on his face. Wilson's overall posture conveyed a very relaxed yet seemingly taut demeanor, and Fulen's subconscious was subtly reminding him of all the abnormal points about the person in front of him.
"Haha, no matter what you've come to see me about, it won't be resolved if you don't come in and talk to me." His hoarse laughter was like low-quality headphones, constantly challenging the limits of human physiological endurance.
Fulen thought about it and agreed. No matter how much this instructor's appearance violated his normal perception, he hadn't shown any other abnormalities, so he might as well talk to him.
Sitting on the opposite sofa, as soon as Fulen settled down, Wilson said, "You want to learn combat techniques from me? Who recommended you?"
Before Fulen could answer, he immediately dismissed his own question: "I see you've indeed come to me to learn combat techniques. Who invited you isn't important. The price is clearly marked: basic combat techniques, 1000 verl d'or."
Fulen's mouth twitched; he was on the verge of spitting on the other person's face: "Mr. Wilson, are you trying to fool me? Not only do I not have that much money, but even if I did, I wouldn't spend it so casually."
"A pauper? How boring," Wilson said in a normal voice, almost whispering mischievously, "Then how much can you afford?"
"100 verl d'or."
"Oh, 300 verl d'or." He put down the pipe in his hand, casually tapped it against the ashtray twice, showing no care for the pipe, and haphazardly named a price.
"Deal." Fulen didn't want to talk much with such an old hand. He had no experience in bargaining, and if his bottom line was discovered, knowing that this was his only reliable combat teacher, he might even face a temporary price hike. So, he quickly finalized the deal.
"Tsk, you're not that poor after all. Alright, follow me." Wilson casually placed the pipe on the table, stood up, patted Fulen's shoulder, and then spoke.
Although Fulen didn't know what Wilson intended to do next, he followed his arrangements. On the way, Fulen wondered if he wanted him to pay first or if he would test him.
The area of this villa looked two or three times larger than other villas on the street. From a distance, it was quite eye-catching on this street. However, Fulen and Wilson hadn't walked far when a bright light entered Fulen's eyes, indicating that the villa had ended.
After adjusting to the sunlight, what appeared before Fulen was a huge sports ground, or rather, a place similar to a sports ground, but without a lawn. Various equipment and facilities were placed around it.
However, when Fulen looked at Wilson, he suddenly realized that the man had disappeared. Just as Fulen was about to look around, Wilson's distinctive voice came from behind: "Don't move, kid. Just stand there."
Fulen glanced back and saw the man walking over with a recliner. However, he didn't place the recliner on the sports ground but only in front of the Door.
The man opened the recliner, lay down, and said, "Run. Hmm, just run 50 laps."
For a moment, Fulen's face wrinkled up like a shriveled orange peel, looking very unpleasant. Then, the voice, emitting an annoying aura, floated out again: "It's only 10,000 meters, and one lap is only 200 meters. Let me see if you are qualified to learn combat techniques."
Fulen felt like he was about to have a brain hemorrhage because of this person, but Fulen said nothing and just started running.
Seeing this, Wilson whistled and muttered to himself, "Alright, half the test is done. Now it depends on this kid's performance. Haha, it's been a long time since I taught a student; I'm quite looking forward to it."
Nearly an hour passed, and Fulen stopped, drenched in sweat. Fortunately, he was now a Sequence 8, and his physical fitness had undergone two minor enhancements, in addition to his already good physical condition. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to endure it.
Wilson stood beside the steaming Fulen and tentatively said, "How about a few more laps?"
"Heh heh." Fulen weakly refuted him with words and, at the same time, showed his disdain with a practical action, flopping onto the ground.
"Alright, you passed." After Wilson said this, he turned around and went back to take the recliner away.
By the time Fulen finally had the energy to wonder if this bastard was playing with him, Wilson returned. Seeing that Fulen had somewhat recovered his strength, he said, "Kid, don't blame me. This is just a test. If you can't even complete this basic part, then there's no need for you to learn from me."
This seemingly very young man sat down next to Fulen, handed him the plastic bottle in his left hand, and said, "Although I am very young, I am definitely experienced in training people. My retirement is probably related to this. There's no harm in following me."
Fulen was a bit confused at this point because there was plastic now. Was this a drink?
Seeing Fulen's country bumpkin reaction, Wilson chuckled twice and said, "Hehe, you don't recognize it, do you? This is something Emperor Rossel developed. If you drink it after training, you can quickly recover from fatigue and feel much better. This is good stuff. However, it's said that the container for this stuff has a very low production, so it needs to be used sparingly and is exclusively supplied to the military. But since you're accepting my training, I'll give you this cup."
Rossel, Rossel again. Is Rossel the biggest idol of Intis? Fulen thought with a headache.
However, considering that this person was a retired officer, and Rossel had been Governor for a long time, and a modern transmigrator, and a fellow countryman from Fulen's parallel world, it was easy to imitate things that a great person had already practiced.
Fulen tasted the drink and found it quite delicious, certainly much better than various sports drinks.
Sports drinks originally weren't bad-tasting, at least the classic, best-selling ones weren't bad-tasting. But as Fulen grew up, the taste of new sports drinks became hard to describe. Perhaps this was what true sports drinks were like?
Once Fulen had caught his breath, Wilson stood up, motioned for Fulen to follow, and led him to what was clearly the finance office.
"Mr. Wilson." There was clearly an accountant in the finance office. Wilson nodded, then looked at Fulen.
After Fulen took out the money, the transaction was complete.