Shen Yanzhou placed the manual on the table and carefully studied the first sequence of movements. At first glance, everything seemed fairly simple. There were no dazzling sword techniques or spectacular displays of power, just a series of stances and movements designed to temper the body. However, the longer he examined the illustrations in the manual, the more he realized that each movement required a certain degree of precision.
He stepped into the middle of the room and imitated the first stance.
He spread his feet shoulder-width apart, bent his knees, and straightened his back. Clenching his fists, he drew his elbows toward his waist and followed the instructions as closely as he could.
“Like this?”
He held the position for several breaths before his thighs began to tremble.
Yanzhou frowned, adjusted his footing, and tried again.
His second attempt lasted a little longer. By the third, his knees were already beginning to ache.
“Whoever came up with this technique must have held a grudge against his students.”
He was about to straighten his legs when his gaze fell upon the manual on the table. The image of Chang Shiyue's disappointed face suddenly flashed through his mind, followed by a far more terrifying possibility: his grandfather actually sending him to the imperial palace.
His expression changed instantly.
“No. Absolutely not! I'd rather die from exhaustion than let that happen!”
He lowered himself back into the stance.
This time, he stopped complaining.
The sound of his uneven breathing gradually filled the room. He held each stance until his muscles could no longer maintain their stability, then rested briefly before repeating the exercise. Whenever the manual instructed him to move slowly, he forced himself to follow the prescribed pace. Whenever a movement required him to maintain a particular angle, he corrected his posture as soon as he noticed his balance beginning to falter.
The training was far more tedious than he had imagined.
There was no opponent to defeat, no impressive technique to show off, and no audience to admire him. He simply repeated the same movements until he could perform them without constantly referring to the manual.
After completing the first sequence, he moved on to the next.
The new movements required him to shift his weight from one leg to the other, rotate his waist, and coordinate his breathing with every motion. His first few attempts were awkward. Sometimes he lost his balance, while at other times, his arms moved too quickly and threw off his footing.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
He started from the beginning.
When he made another mistake, he repeated the sequence once more.
Outside, the last traces of twilight faded from the courtyard. The servants finished their duties and returned to their quarters, while the Shen residence gradually sank into silence.
Inside his room, Yanzhou continued training.
He had no cultivation base to support his body, no spiritual energy to strengthen his muscles, and no master standing beside him to correct his every mistake. All he had was a manual, his own body, and a stubborn determination born from his fear of a future he wanted no part of.
As time passed, sweat trickled down his temples and soaked the collar of his robe. His legs grew increasingly heavy, while his shoulders ached whenever he raised his arms. The movements that had seemed easy at first now demanded considerably more effort.
Eventually, he lost his balance while transitioning between stances and had to grab the table to steady himself.
“Damn it…”
He stood there, panting heavily, his gaze slowly drifting toward the bed.
For a brief moment, he imagined collapsing onto the soft mattress and sleeping until morning.
Then he remembered Shiyue.
More precisely, he remembered how easily she had knocked him unconscious with a single strike.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
If I can't even withstand a single strike from my own fiancée, how am I supposed to protect her?
The thought drove away the last remnants of his laziness.
Yanzhou returned to the middle of the room.
This time, he paid closer attention to his footing. He bent his knees just enough to keep his body stable, maintained a straight back, and learned to generate power through the rotation of his waist rather than relying solely on his arms.
The difference was subtle, but he could feel it. His movements became more coordinated, and maintaining his balance was no longer as difficult as before. This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“So that's how it works.”
He repeated the sequence, trying to reproduce the sensation he had just experienced.
Then he did it again.
And again.
He eventually lost count of how many times he had repeated the same sequence. Whenever his movements began to fall apart, he stopped to correct them. Whenever he discovered a more stable way to shift his weight, he tried to remember it. Little by little, he began to understand that mastering a martial technique was not simply a matter of memorizing movements. Every shift in position served a purpose, and even the slightest mistake could affect the entire sequence.
For the next three days, Shen Yanzhou devoted himself to training, making full use of the limited time he had to temper his body and master the martial techniques his father had given him.
His sudden diligence astonished the entire Shen Clan. The young master, once notorious for his laziness and lecherous habits, now spent his days practicing without complaint. Even more astonishing was his talent. He quickly grasped numerous techniques, and even the basic sword forms took him only a short time to master.
The clan members who had spent months working hard to achieve the same results could only watch with envy. Some had trained until their bodies ached, yet this infamous young master had managed to catch up in just a few days. His transformation was so unexpected that watching him practice was becoming more painful to their pride than their own training had ever been to their bodies.
While the Shen Clan was still buzzing about their young master's sudden change, crowds began pouring into the Sacred Square of Qinghe City. The five great clans—Wu, Lu, Chang, Shen, and Yi—were all present, accompanied by countless spectators and families hoping to give their children a chance to awaken their Seeds.
The enormous square quickly filled with people, and discussions about the potential candidates spread through the crowd.
"Magnificent! Just look at how many people have gathered. I wonder who will awaken the highest-grade Seed this time."
"Obviously, the Wu Clan! Young Master Wu Lang has an exceptionally strong physique. He might even awaken a Gold Seed, or perhaps a Jade Seed!"
"Wu Lang? I doubt it. The Lu Clan has always been a strong contender. Look at how well-prepared they are, especially with Young Master Lu Wei guiding them."
"Hah, I'm so jealous. If only someone in my family awakened a Gold Seed, I wouldn't have to worry about anything for the rest of my life."
"Stop dreaming! I think the Chang Clan has a better chance of producing a Jade Seed. Young Lady Chang Shiyue trains harder than most men. I heard she knocked her own fiancé out with a single strike!"
"You're talking nonsense. Her fiancé is a useless piece of shit who spends his days flirting with women in brothels. I honestly feel sorry for Miss Chang. She's engaged to an ugly, useless piece of trash!"
Standing behind them, Shen Yanzhou had overheard every word. His face initially flushed red with anger, but as soon as they called him ugly, it darkened. A moment later, his expression turned positively green.