Vergil tightened his cold grip around the long metal staff while carefully eyeing the armoured guard standing directly opposite him.
Then, Madam Sierra’s booming voice rang across the training grounds.
“Begin.”
The guard moved instantly, his heavy boots kicking up dirt.
The long metal staff swung through the air toward Vergil at a terrifying speed.
Bang!
Vergil barely managed to lift his own weapon to block the incoming strike in time.
The exact moment the two metal staffs collided, a sharp wave of pain shot straight through his forearms.
The heavy vibration alone made the very marrow of his bones ache.
The guard attacked again immediately, showing no mercy.
Vergil defended again, adjusting his footing.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Every single violent collision sent a fresh wave of throbbing pain through his arms.
Vergil could easily have channelled his hidden inner energy to strengthen his muscles or dull the impact of the pain.
But he deliberately and firmly restrained his energy.
If Sierra or her elite watchers noticed his anomalous inner energy, detailed questions would immediately follow.
And answering those probing questions could easily expose his secret Origami Skill Seed.
He absolutely, under any circumstance, could not allow that information to leak.
Origami remained his absolute greatest hidden trump card.
The hidden skill would eventually become his definitive, ultimate method of escaping this subterranean prison.
So Vergil endured the agonising physical punishment completely silently.
The one-sided battle continued relentlessly across the rope ring.
Gradually, his bruised arms became noticeably slower.
Heavier.
Then,
Crack!
The guard’s metal staff bypassed his guard and slammed directly into his forearm.
Blinding pain exploded through his entire body as though the bone itself had fractured under the impact.
Before Vergil could even attempt to recover his balance,
Bang!
Another heavy strike smashed violently into his exposed thigh.
Vergil staggered violently across the dirt, his footing crumbling.
Still, through sheer willpower, he continued attempting to defend his vitals.
He deliberately avoided utilising the Rock Wolf Technique during the brawl as well.
That specific technique had been explicitly designed for bare fists and close-body movement.
He first needed to properly adapt and translate its evasive principles for mid-range staff combat before he could use it effectively without looking suspicious.
Bang!
A final, crushing strike slammed directly against the side of his head.
The entire world spun violently on its axis.
His vision instantly blurred into static.
His legs swayed weakly beneath his weight for a fraction of a second.
Then, everything went pitch black.
Vergil next awoke hours later because of a sharp, gnawing hunger in his gut.
His eyes snapped open instantly, his hunter instincts returning.
He discovered himself lying flat on the wooden mattress inside his private room, N-25.
Slowly sitting upright, he noticed he wore absolutely nothing except a thin, basic inner pair of pants.
Someone from the medical staff had apparently stripped and treated his broken body after the brutal training session concluded.
Vergil looked around the quiet room, evaluating his physical state.
Through the small window, the glowing blue cavern crystals illuminated the stone walls faintly.
I can’t even tell whether it’s currently day or night in the outside world here.
Then, his eyes landed on the surface of the small table.
His remaining red contribution card rested there neatly, untouched.
Vergil immediately got dressed in his grey robes, pocketed the card securely, and left the room.
Soon, his footsteps led him back down to the communal dining hall.
Several of the captive boys were already quietly eating their rations there.
Among the scattered youths, Vergil immediately noticed the broad-shouldered Aaron.
The two simply exchanged a brief nod of recognition toward each other across the room.
Vergil sat down at his assigned seat, N-25, and once again methodically spent twenty points from his cards on:
One plate of fresh, hydrating fruit
One plate of dense, roasted chicken meat
After quietly eating to fuel his recovery, he left the hall.
Outside the double doors, he discovered Aaron standing near the stone pillar, waiting for him.
Vergil asked, his voice steady and neutral,
“How exactly did you perform in the staff test today?”
Aaron’s expression darkened slightly, a touch of frustration in his eyes.
“I got completely knocked unconscious before the halfway mark.”
Vergil’s face immediately showed a polite, practised layer of sympathy.
But internally, he actually felt a quiet wave of relief.
If Aaron had performed extremely well repeatedly, he might eventually become a dangerous, unpredictable competitor for resources later.
Vergil then frowned slightly, gathering intelligence.
“Do you happen to know who won the top rankings?”
Aaron’s eyes flashed, immediately showing an expression that clearly wanted Vergil to play along and guess.
But Vergil had absolutely zero interest in entertaining his childish games.
“How would I possibly know?” he replied flatly.
“I only woke up from my concussion a few minutes ago.”
Aaron coughed awkwardly at the blunt response before answering.
“Gregory got first place again.
Blew everyone away.”
Vergil raised an eyebrow slightly, processing the data.
But honestly, the predictable result made complete logical sense.
Gregory hailed from the borders near the treacherous Frozen Veil Sea.
According to Gregory’s own descriptions, dangerous magic beasts constantly emerged from the freezing fog there.
The common people living near that harsh region fought brutal battles regularly simply to survive another day.
Gregory had only been captured by Almus’s slavers because he became separated from his primary hunting group during a chaotic blizzard.
Otherwise, capturing a trained youth like him would likely have been extremely difficult and costly.
If elite boys like Gregory were easy to capture, then this underground town would already be filled entirely with children from the Frozen Veil Sea region.
While they walked toward the camp storehouse, Aaron continued talking, sharing the rumours.
“The third-place winner was N-16.”
The same provocative, arrogant boy from the running trial, Vergil noted.
Eventually, the two arrived outside the storehouse entrance, where they found Basil and Damien already quietly browsing the display goods inside.
Vergil quietly entered the facility, approached the counter, and purchased:
Fifty sheets of standard paper for five contribution points
One basic paintbrush for ten contribution points
One small bottle of black ink for ten contribution points
He fundamentally needed a proper, ironclad excuse for possessing large quantities of paper in his quarters.
Practising basic painting provided the absolute perfect cover story for secretly training his Origami Skill in the dark.
After completing his strategic purchases and tucking the supplies away, Vergil calculated his remaining balance.
Exactly fifty-five points left to his name.
Meanwhile, Aaron, Basil, and Damien continued browsing the depths of the storehouse.
Vergil quietly separated from the others at the storefront and returned alone toward the privacy of his room.
He first left his newly purchased art supplies safely on the table before immediately heading back out toward the camp library.
At the reinforced stone entrance, he paid another ten contribution points from his remaining cards to secure entry.
Once inside, he quickly discovered through careful observation that the library was divided into two distinct sections.
The larger front section allowed unlimited reading of historical and geographical texts after paying the baseline entrance fee.
But the heavily gated back section operated under completely different rules.
Every single book stored in that restricted area required additional payments of contribution points, depending entirely on its perceived value.
Most of the valuable books stored in the back contained:
Advanced cultivation techniques
Specialised skill training methods
Core ability development manuals
Vergil immediately searched the unrestricted shelves for cultivation-related books and began reading the text rapidly.
At first, he skimmed quickly through the basic chapters detailing concepts he already thoroughly understood from his own training.
Only after his eyes reached the section detailing the advanced Star Master Realm did he finally slow his reading speed down and begin analysing every single sentence carefully.
According to the text within the book:
The initial Star Master Realm was divided cleanly into nine distinct sub-realms.
A cultivator could technically evolve up to nine different, separate Skill Seeds into Star Seeds to fill those slots.
However, if someone lacked the immense talent to evolve all their separate seeds further naturally, they could instead choose a sacrificial path.
They could systematically sacrifice eight of their existing Star Seeds to forcefully evolve one single, chosen Star Seed again.
This brutal second evolution permanently transformed the chosen Star Seed into a powerful Moon Seed.
The book explained the transition clearly:
“Like the celestial moon governing and influencing the tides of the surface world, a true Moon Seed allows its owner to actively influence the surrounding environment with their personal power.”
The exact moment a cultivator successfully evolved a Moon Seed, they officially crossed the threshold into the Moon Lord Realm.
The prestigious Moon Lord Realm itself contained exactly six sub-realms.
Then, the text detailed the third major evolution of power.
By systematically sacrificing five separate Moon Seeds, one single Moon Seed could be forced to evolve further into a radiant Sun Seed.
The exact moment Vergil reached this specific paragraph, his eyes widened slightly in genuine amazement.
The book stated:
“Flight for Sun Kings becomes as completely natural as walking on solid ground.”
Before reaching the Sun King Realm, powerful cultivators could still theoretically fly temporarily using specialised spells or internal energy bursts.
But the continuous energy consumption remained far too severe and exhausting for any prolonged tactical use.
Meanwhile, true Sun Kings could remain airborne constantly without fatigue.
Only the lateral movement itself consumed their internal energy, operating much like the caloric burn of an ordinary human walking across a room.
The Sun King Realm contained exactly three sub-realms.
Then, the text detailed the legendary Saint Realm.
According to the author:
Three distinct Sun Seeds must merge completely within the Spirit Space to permanently transform baseline internal energy into true, raw magic energy.
Magic energy fundamentally and irreversibly changed a cultivator’s physical physique, transforming them into long-lived, transcendent beings.
The author specifically inserted a stark warning for young readers:
Although cultivators can technically learn and form countless skills in their youth…
They should absolutely avoid doing so before successfully reaching the Saint Realm.
The critical reason for this restraint was lifespan.
Star Masters lived roughly around one hundred and twenty years under normal conditions.
Moon Lords reached a life expectancy of roughly one hundred and fifty years.
Sun Kings lived approximately two hundred years.
But Saints…
Saints possessed a minimum, baseline lifespan of five hundred years.
The Saint Realm was the absolute highest realm described within the pages of this basic book.
Still, the tone of the author strongly implied that even higher, unmentionable realms likely existed far beyond it.
When Vergil finally closed the heavy book, a rare look of deep longing filled his calm eyes.
His overarching life goal immediately became crystal clear and focused.
Reach the Saint Realm as quickly as humanly possible to secure his absolute freedom and longevity.
Vergil did not continue reading any further books afterwards, protecting his mental capacity.
Instead, he returned directly to the quiet safety of his room, N-25.
There, he placed a single, crisp sheet of grey paper onto the small wooden table and began practising his painting.
His very first attempt with the paintbrush failed miserably.
The black ink spread across the fibrous paper uncontrollably, completely ruining the entire sheet.
Vergil remains perfectly calm, placing the wasted, ink-stained paper aside into a neat pile for future Origami practice.
Rather than attempting complex, artistic drawings immediately, he instead shifted his focus entirely to the bare basics of line work:
Straight lines
Perfect circles
Uniform geometric shapes
His current, singular goal was simply learning proper brush pressure and absolute ink control.
Hours gradually passed in the quiet room while he practised steadily under the crystal light.
Eventually, Vergil stopped his brush and frowned slightly, looking at the ceiling.
Without a mechanical watch or a clear sky, accurately measuring the passage of time remained incredibly difficult.
I desperately need to accumulate enough points to buy a watch from the storehouse.
Later that evening, he lay flat on his bed, switched off the blue crystal, and resumed mentally counting seconds once more.
The following days in the camp quickly settled into a gruelling, highly repetitive cycle.
Every single morning:
Exhausting running training
Quick, calculated meals
Brutal combat beatings in the rings
Total unconsciousness
Magical recovery from Sierra
The routine remained almost entirely identical on a daily basis.
During the next intense running test, Vergil managed to systematically place second, earning additional cards.
After waking up from another brutal beating session and eating his protein, he returned quietly to his room once more.
Lying flat on his back on his bed, Vergil closed his eyes and began utilising his hyper-focused Visualisation Space.
He began vividly mapping and recreating the exact physical movements of the guard who had fought him in the ring.
Now…
Vergil finally possessed enough closely observed combat data to begin constructing a proper, predictive combat model within his Visualisation Space.
Inside his mind, he repeatedly and flawlessly replayed every minute movement of the guard:
Elusive footwork patterns
Sudden grip changes along the wood
Hidden angles of attack
Precise strike timing
Subtle balance shifts before a lunging strike
Then, step by step, he carefully began modifying the core principles of the Rock Wolf Technique to seamlessly fit staff combat.
The original technique had been explicitly designed for bare fists and close-quarters grappling.
Vergil now painstakingly reshaped its kinetic weight into something entirely different.
On the third day of the cycle, Vergil still ranked exactly second during the gruelling morning run.
But during the afternoon staff battle, his body lasted noticeably longer in the rope ring than ever before.
The moment he woke up from his mandatory unconsciousness, he immediately closed his eyes to continue refining the modified Rock Wolf movements within his mind.
On the fourth day of the trial, he lasted even longer, forcing the guard to exert genuine effort to bring him down.
On the fifth day, Vergil officially ranked fifth overall during the intense combat trials, receiving forty contribution points.
Unlike the running competition, the points distribution for combat was weighted heavily:
First place in combat earned sixty points.
Second to fifth place each earned exactly forty points.
On the sixth day of training, Vergil climbed the ranks to secure third place.
On the seventh day, he maintained his third-place standing again, solidifying his baseline.
Then came the eighth day.
Instead of their normal, repetitive courtyard training, the entire group of thirty-six captives was marched back into the grand cavern arena.
This time, one by one, they were forced onto the sand to fight a caged Iron Arm Ape.
The survival rules for the trial were simple.
Victory would be determined either by:
Completely defeating the enraged ape.
Or surviving the longest against its assault.
The point rewards for this special beast trial were dramatically increased:
First place: 300 points
Second to fifth place: 200 points
Sixth to tenth place: 100 points
Everyone else: 20 points
While the bloody competition continued below on the sand, Madam Sierra stood silently beside Almus Hunter on the elevated stone platform above the arena.
Almus calmly looked down, asking,
“Which among them currently possesses the highest statistical chance of reaching the Star Master Realm within our two-year deadline?”
Sierra answered immediately, her professional assessment sharp.
“N-03 currently has the highest overall probability, Young Master.”
“After him, N-15 and N-25 may also successfully break through given time.”
Almus turned his green eyes toward Gregory, designated N-03.
Gregory had just survived for more than thirty continuous minutes against the heavy limbs of the Iron Arm Ape.
Almus slowly nodded in satisfaction.
But Sierra continued her report, her tone shifting.
“However…”
“I personally believe N-25 possesses latent potential completely comparable to N-03.”
Almus looked toward Vergil, standing below in the ranks.
Honestly, scanning his frame, the noble saw nothing special or noteworthy.
Vergil appeared completely ordinary, blending perfectly into the background of common hicks.
“Why do you think that?” Almus asked, a brow raised.
Sierra calmly explained her reasoning.
“At the very beginning of the staff training cycle, his performance ranked near the bottom of the group.”
“But after only one single week of beatings, he climbed directly to third place.”
“He analyses his mistakes and learns faster than anyone else in the compound.”
Almus nodded slightly, indifferent to the mechanics.
“Good comprehension talent.
A useful tool.”
Then, both authorities returned their full attention to the blood-stained arena.
Eventually, Vergil’s designated turn arrived.
Facing the aggressive Iron Arm Ape directly on the open sand, Vergil utilised his predictive visualisation model to survive for exactly:
Twenty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds.
The impressive score immediately claimed second place on the slate board.
And by the absolute end of the competition, nobody else among the remaining captives surpassed his time.
High above the arena, Almus smiled faintly down toward the exhausted, bleeding captives.
“Continue improving your skills, trash.”
“Perhaps one day…”
“You may actually hold a sharp knife against my throat and cut off my head yourselves.”
The young man spoke playfully, completely secure in his power, but Sierra simply shook her head at his arrogance before stepping forward to the edge.
“Everyone.”
“Follow guards A and B back to the compound barracks immediately.”
“The remainder of today is officially designated as your free time.”
The surviving captives quietly fell into line and followed the guards away from the sand.
Meanwhile, Almus continued watching the empty arena thoughtfully, calculating numbers.
“Another massive shipment of boys is arriving by river boat tonight.”
Sierra frowned slightly, adjusting her black uniform.
“We should slow down the acquisition rate, Young Master.”
“Otherwise, the neighbouring factions or the Luce Knights may begin noticing abnormalities along the borders.”
Almus casually waved his hand dismissively in the air.
“Don’t worry about the logistics.”
“This incoming group wasn’t illegally kidnapped from the kingdom’s villages.”
“I purchased them completely legally from the deep slave markets.”
Sierra slowly and understandingly nodded.
“Then I’ll send Lucas to train them, using my current training program as a baseline reference.”
While returning toward the compound gates, Vergil’s sharp eyes suddenly noticed another long line of young boys being escorted toward the arena tunnels from the docks.
Unlike his own group, these new boys wore heavy black fabric masks and had their hands bound tightly with thick ropes.
Another group.
Vergil silently wondered whether his own group had truly been the first batch…
Or merely one anonymous wave among many groups processed before them.
Once back inside the safety of the compound, Vergil immediately returned to the privacy of room N-25.
Then, he quickly resumed practising his line work and painting.
Now that he successfully possessed a massive surplus of contribution points from his second-place arena finish, he no longer worried about wasting common paper sheets or black ink during practice.
So he trained his hand coordination continuously.
The following week, the staff battles were abruptly replaced with sword battles utilising weighted wooden swords.
From the very first day of the new rotation, Vergil consistently and calculatedly remained within the top five rankings.
He initially ranked fourth on day one to test the waters.
But by the end of the week, his predictive simulation allowed him to climb cleanly to second place.
Later, during the weekly Iron Arm Ape challenge, he once again secured the second-place point bounty.
The next morning, Madam Sierra gathered all thirty-six captives together in the courtyard.
“You may now officially choose your primary weapon focus between sword training or spear training.”
Without a single moment of hesitation, Vergil chose the path of the sword.
Soon afterwards, the senior guards began actively teaching the designated sword group an official technique called the Wave Sword Technique.
Vergil quickly understood the immense strategic advantage of utilising established techniques.
By endlessly practising basic, mundane swordsmanship alone in his room, he could eventually form a Sword Skill Seed naturally over several years.
But that independent path would take far too long for his current circumstances.
Pre-made techniques provided a clear, defined direction for internal energy to flow.
Mastering even an inferior, basic sword technique was almost equivalent to forming a valid Sword Skill Seed directly within the spirit space.
The major downside of the technique path, however, was entirely obvious to his analytical mind.
Everyone who mastered the exact same manual would obtain nearly identical first abilities upon seed formation.
Meanwhile, naturally formed, solo skills generated completely randomised abilities instead.
Sometimes those unique, random abilities became overwhelmingly, game-changingly powerful.
But randomness also fundamentally meant unpredictable uncertainty.
Vergil had absolutely zero interest in gambling his life on luck.
More importantly,
He lacked the luxury of time.
He was still a forced prisoner trapped in a subterranean cage.
Not a free man.
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