Chapter 8 - Traning (2)

The Next Day.

Chen Shenghlei, was determined young man, and was not disheartened despite being passed out by the immense backlash of the 'Yin Yang Mountain Crushing Dragon Art.'

Rather, he was resolute in his desire to become stronger as soon as possible, and this method, despite its risks, seemed the most feasible.

Standing tall under the Banyan tree, his majestic physique exuding a quiet strength, Chen Shenghlei held the ancient scripture in his hand, ready to resume his arduous training.

"Young master, wouldn't it be better for you to follow the path of physical cultivation? At least there wouldn't be as many risks. My own body grows stronger with each passing day. I vouch that body cultivators are stronger,"

Dao Feng, his loyal servant, suggested, standing nearby.

He couldn't help but voice his concerns as his young master prepared to practice the terrifying art once again.

Body cultivation indeed offered the promise of a stronger and tougher physical form compared to magical cultivation.

However, body cultivation came with significant limitations. A body cultivator might reach a point where they could no longer progress, hitting a bottleneck that could keep them stuck at the same level for the rest of their life.

These bottlenecks were often difficult, if not impossible, to overcome.

Unless one had a special physique suited for body cultivation, it was nearly impossible to reach the pinnacle.

Humans crossing their physical limits is quite difficult; humans are not dragons or elephants with inherently strong physiques.

There is a point where one's body growth stops completely, and that is where body cultivation ends.

Most people who pursued this path were either talentless peasants or those with a special physique suitable for it.

Chen Shenghlei, who had memories from another world, was keenly aware of these limitations.

He wasn't a prodigy either.

Although his cultivation abilities and spiritual roots were considered inferior, he still held onto the hope of achieving immortality.

For him, the more suitable path was indeed magical cultivation.

"Forget it. It's not for me. Besides, you have been in the Innate Master realm for two decades without improvement, haven't you? If there's no risk, there won't be any gain. Just make sure to carry me to my room if I pass out," Chen Shenghlei said, his tone resolute.

"Yes, young master," Dao Feng replied. He knew his place as a servant and understood that his young master was aware of the risks. It was evidently something miraculous that Chen Shenghlei was pursuing.

Soon, Chen Shenghlei recited the scripture in his mind, and the divine 'Mountain Crushing Dragon Art' appeared in his consciousness like golden fragments of sunlight. The majestic symbols were awe-inspiring, but soon, his world turned black as a colossal golden mountain pressed down on him with soul-crushing weight. Just like yesterday, it gave Chen Shenghlei no chance to withstand it.

"Damn it, to think I'm not even qualified to withstand even seconds! Just where does this power come from... ahhh!" he cried out in frustration before collapsing, his body slumping to the ground, his head nearly crashing into the mud as he passed out.

"Young master!" Dao Feng exclaimed, though he wasn't surprised by the outcome. He felt a deep sense of pity for his young master as he struggled to lift Chen Shenghlei's majestic form and carry him back to his room.

"Damn this weight," Dao Feng muttered, finding it hard to manage on his own. He shouted, "Wu Shen, Lu Shao, Lin Chu, come here and help me a little!"

"Yes, Brother Feng!" Hearing his call, the other servants dropped their work and hurriedly came to aid the young master, Chen Shenghlei.

--- Day 3

The next morning, Shenghlei returned to the training ground under the same banyan tree, his body still aching from the previous day's trial.

He glanced at the scripture in his hand, steeling himself for another grueling session.

As the colossal weight descended upon him, he gritted his teeth, sweat pouring from head to toe, willing himself to hold on longer.

The seconds ticked by, each one an eternity of agony. At the two-second mark, his strength gave out, and he fell to his knees, sweat streaming down his face.

"Damn it, it's so difficult," he muttered, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I have to get stronger," he said before passing out.

--- Day 4

By the fourth day, the routine had become a familiar kind of torture.

Shenghlei stood beneath the banyan tree, the morning light filtering through its leaves.

The crushing force once again bore down on him, his muscles screaming in protest.

"Come on... just a little longer," he urged himself, his voice strained with effort.

But as the two-second mark approached, his body betrayed him once more, and he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Why can't I do it?" he wondered aloud, frustration evident in his voice.

---Day 5

On the fifth day, Shenghlei was more determined than ever. His father had given him a low-grade dragon pill, which he had taken to slightly improve his strength. Once again, he stood under the banyan tree, the scripture open before him.

"I won't fail today," he vowed, his voice low and fierce.

As the weight descended, he closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on enduring the crushing pressure.

The pain was unbearable, his bones feeling like they might snap under the strain.

Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn't surpass the two-second mark.

"No!" he shouted in frustration as he collapsed, his fists pounding the ground.

"Why am I so weak?" he cried out before passing out again.

"Here we go again, boys. Let's carry Young Master Chen," Dao Feng, his servant, said with a sigh. This had become their daily routine.

They had even constructed a massive wooden trolley to transport him to his room, as their shoulders couldn't endure his heavenly weight.

---

Time flew swiftly. One by one, the seasons - summer, winter, monsoon, and autumn - passed, and before anyone knew it, a year had gone by.

During this year, Chen Shenghlei never slacked off in his training. Whether it was cultivation or physical exercise, he gave it his all.

There were no excuses, no whining—only hard work and dedication.

Each day, he rose before the break of dawn and retired long after the moon reached its zenith, often worrying his parents, who feared their son was overextending himself.

Yet, living in a world where even the protagonist could be wronged, Chen Shenghlei knew he could not afford to rest until he became someone capable of protecting himself and those he cherished.

Precisely because of his unwavering resolve, his cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds. His qi grew denser with each passing day, and with the support of his parents, who procured precious pills and resources, his journey was remarkably smooth.

His father, too, achieved the Foundation Establishment Realm, bestowing great benefits upon their family. As a result, their family rose to prominence, second only to the city lord, drawing many who sought their favor and causing their business to flourish like trees in the first spring.

Chen Shenghlei's brother, Chen Zhen, reached the fifth layer of the Qi Condensing Realm, earning the title of the foremost genius in Taizun City, where other young masters lacked comparable talent.

Now, within a secluded chamber suffused with medicinal aura and visible qi fluctuations, Chen Shenghlei sat cross-legged on a crimson sheet, his entire body enveloped in thick black qi. At the core of his being, a large, spherical energy orb spun, occasionally sparking with white light.

Suddenly, he drew in the surrounding energy, causing the orb to merge into his body, his eyes turning jet black. In the next instant, an invisible shockwave radiated in all directions.

"At last, I've reached the third layer of Qi Condensing. Why is this energy so much harder to control? It used to be child's play."

Through diligent effort, his cultivation had reached a level where he felt more confident in his ability to protect himself compared to before.

"It's a pity my Yin-Yang Mountain Crushing Dragon Art shows no significant improvement. Perhaps it's due to my body constitution, or maybe I lack the necessary talent. Regardless, I cannot lose hope."

Despite training daily, his progress in the Yin-Yang Mountain Crushing Dragon Art remained unimpressive. Even with strenuous effort and grueling practice, he could only sustain it for seven minutes, struggling all the while. This art was indeed challenging, considering his weak body and inferior eighth-grade spiritual roots.

But, Not everything was bad.

One major change was his appearance—though still somewhat plump, he had managed to shed a good bit of weight. The other boys, in their boundless generosity, no longer mocked him as the "boobman." This, of course, was exactly the kind of progress he had been dreaming of.

At this moment, Chen Shenghlei's peaceful thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Young Master Shenghlei, Young Master Zhen and Elder Brother Cheng wish to see you in the arena to assess your progress and to impart the Chen Patriarchy's family art," announced Dao Feng, his loyal servant, who had worked tirelessly alongside Chen Shenghlei and had finally advanced his own cultivation to a high-level master, now only two small realms away from Innate Grandmaster.

Upon hearing this, Chen Shenghlei felt a shiver of fear run down his spine, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow.

"Hmph, checking progress and teaching family art, what a farce. They simply want to ruthlessly beat me," he mused bitterly, resenting his fate of having such a devilish older brother. "Tell them I have just completed my training and still have to consolidate my realm. I shall make my way to the arena in a day or two, today is impossible."

"But Young Master, Elder Young Master insisted he will personally drag you to the arena if you do not come," Dao Feng declared, conveying the urgency of the matter.

"Damn him, leaving me no choice," Chen Shenghlei muttered under his breath.

Although he had no desire to meet these lower life forms, Chen Shenghlei knew he had no choice but to spar with his brother. As for the family art he was about to practice, it was none other than the formidable

"Thousand Violent Petals."

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( End of this chapter )

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