Chapter 8: The True Breakthrough

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Items purchased in the trading market could be freely placed into or taken out of the backpack inventory at any time, which was extremely convenient. Shano first took out the tachi sword named "Masamune." Drawing the blade from its sheath, the slender blade shimmered like frost under the sunlight, retaining an astonishingly delicate curvature. Holding it up before his eyes, he examined it carefully. The edge, thin as a cicada’s wing, displayed a gradient of colors—from the deep indigo near the guard reminiscent of the depths of the ocean, gradually fading to an almost translucent pale hue at the tip.

He downed the remaining cola in one gulp, tossed the empty can into the air, and with a slight flick of his wrist, sliced it effortlessly into several pieces without any hesitation. The swift movements of the blade left silver traces in the air like fleeting fireflies. “A fine sword,” Shano murmured with admiration. It was perfectly balanced and felt excellent in hand.

The blacksmith shop in the neighboring town of his homeland was somewhat famous across the nearby islands. When he was immersed in swordsmanship training, he had eagerly visited it. Yet none of the swords there could compare to this one—they were worlds apart. Sheathing the sword again, the length of the blade was no problem; his body had just entered the growth phase. Once he grew taller, this would be a perfectly fitting sword.

Returning it to his backpack, Shano opened the two six-form manuals. As soon as they opened, a random selection was made, displaying “Razor” and “Iron Block.” “Not bad luck,” he said with a growing sense of pleasure. These two martial arts techniques—one focused on agility, the other on defense—were exactly what he desired most at the moment.

With a thought, he flipped open the Iron Block first. Martial arts manuals unfolded before his eyes like a system panel, allowing him to turn pages by thought, much like an e-book. The text was detailed, with breakdowns for every move and stance. For more obscure parts, a blurry azure figure would appear beside the text, demonstrating the move step by step, providing a very intuitive lesson. This method had helped him quickly master the “Breath Fist” technique before.

“The entry isn’t too difficult, but mastering it will require considerable effort,” he thought. After a rough scan of the two manuals, Shano’s eyes gleamed slightly as he made an estimate. Compared to when he first trained in Breath Fist, his physique had improved greatly. Coupled with Breath Fist’s unique ability to quickly dissipate muscle fatigue, his progress in physical techniques would surely far outpace that of ordinary people.

Even conservatively, he could likely master these two martial arts within a year. “Within a year, huh...” Shano shook his head slightly. If it were before, he would have been satisfied with this pace. But now, with Aron weighing heavily on his mind like a massive boulder, his progress had to be faster—and much faster!

Fortunately, his luck this time was excellent; he had drawn useful enhancement items. His gaze fell on the last item in his backpack, filled with uncontrollable anticipation. He had never before owned tools to assist his training—all his current strength was earned through relentless, solitary practice. Now, it was time to experience the feeling of accelerated growth!

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...

Half an hour later.

On the first basement level, inside a spacious large chamber, Shano looked around and nodded with satisfaction. This place had once been a backup armory. Since the Gat Route had become relatively safe in recent years, it had been left unused and unattended, covered in dust and cobwebs.

When Shano found Gat and requested a room for physical training, the old man immediately remembered this place. He quickly ordered the room cleaned, brought in several sandbags, and some discarded wood which he tied into crude wooden stakes with hemp rope. He even prepared mirrors, water, and towels, forbidding other crew members from disturbing him. Shano felt genuinely moved by this kindness.

“Let’s begin.” Shano carefully placed the statue of Heracles in a corner, then exhaled deeply and started jogging in circles to warm up. After warming up, he didn’t immediately practice the six-form techniques but chose to continue training the Breath Fist. After all, the bottleneck in this fist style was becoming apparent. Breaking through it early would grant him far greater combat power than simply mastering the introductory six forms.

...

Time passed swiftly.

Six days later, the Gat ship sailed steadily across the ocean under the afternoon sun. This route truly was safe—no accidents or encounters with pirate ships flying skull flags occurred along the way.

In the underground chamber, continuous thuds echoed as a strong figure weaved repeatedly between the wooden stakes and sandbags. The wooden floor was slick with sweat.

“One thousand nine hundred ninety-nine... two thousand! Finished!” The voice announcing the count bounced in the enclosed space. The youth’s spine was taut like a drawn winch cable. At the moment his fist struck the teak stake, he suddenly withdrew his strength, channeling an invisible ripple into it. Crack! Circular cracks appeared on the stake’s surface.

“Hah...” Shano suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, white steam rising from his body, breathing heavy like a bellows. Each inhalation sank his diaphragm twice as deep as a normal person’s, his intercostal muscles swelling like sails; every exhalation caused his larynx to vibrate, his lungs expanding wildly with visible pressure.

He closed his eyes to regulate his breathing, slowly calming down after a long time. When he took a dry towel to wipe sweat, hot steam continuously rose from its pores. Shano tilted back his head and gulped down water, tossing the bottle aside after finishing, then wiped his mouth vigorously.

“Refreshing!” The deep voice that emerged from his throat still felt unfamiliar to him. Before, there had been a trace of youthfulness; now it seemed he had fully passed the adolescent voice change, truly becoming an adult’s voice.

“Six days, only six days!” Shano stepped up to the mirror, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. Staring at the familiar yet strange reflection, he grinned with pure satisfaction.

During these days, he had spent more than twelve hours daily in relentless training here. The hardship and sweat he had endured were known perhaps only to himself and the silent statue in the corner. But the results of cultivation would ultimately prove everything!

Today, the sixth day, he had fully broken through the bottleneck—the Breath Fist had reached its pinnacle!

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The barrier that once limited his physical limits shattered like a fragile glass container bursting into pieces. It then wildly expanded and reforged itself, with a capacity far beyond before, giving him a transcendent feeling, as if he had evolved into an entirely new being.

The change in his voice was one of the most noticeable results of this breakthrough. Yet it was also the most trivial change.

Shano examined himself in the mirror. His face was still delicate, but his eyebrows were much darker and thicker, his jawline sharper. His black hair, which once only reached the sides of his ears, had grown wildly, covering his shoulders. His height had shot up by more than a dozen centimeters!

From his neck downward, his muscles were knotted and bulging. His shoulder blades rose like battering rams, and when his latissimus dorsi muscles stretched fully, they covered half the mirror. Most striking was his spine—thirty-three vertebrae shifting and undulating beneath his skin like a living creature. When he bent slightly, the whole spine tensed like a drawn heavy crossbow, producing a bone-chilling creak.

Compared to six days ago, his body seemed so frail.

He stood before the mirror for a long time, scrutinizing himself like an ancient craftsman admiring a masterpiece sculpture he had carved with care, never tiring of the sight.

Snap!

He suddenly hooked two wooden stakes with his foot and kicked them up, catching them in both hands. With a slight squeeze, the stakes shattered into countless tiny fragments, dust falling softly.

The youth spread his arms wide, reveling in the overwhelming power surging through his body, far surpassing before. Unable to contain his joy, he threw back his head and laughed heartily.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!!!” His laughter shook dust from the ceiling, scattering all the way down to the deck.

...

On the deck, Gat leaned leisurely against the railing, smoking his pipe. Feeling the intense shaking of the wooden floor beneath his feet, and remembering that Shano had been locked away in the underground chamber for days without fresh air or showing up, he grew somewhat worried.

After hesitating, he descended the spiral staircase and approached the backup armory. Slowly raising his right hand, he was about to knock on the door.

Creak—

Just as he prepared to knock, the heavy wooden door was suddenly pushed open from inside, startling him into stepping back instinctively.

“Hm?” The person inside looked down and noticed him, uttering a soft “huh.”

Old Gat looked up at the familiar face. There was nothing unusual; the youth wore the bulky coat, showing no obvious changes. Yet something felt off...

No, wait!

Realizing suddenly, Gat’s mouth dropped open, and the pipe in his mouth clattered to the floor. When they first met, the youth had been over half a head shorter than him. Now, he had to look up to see him!

“Mr. Gat, what a coincidence seeing you here,” the black-haired youth scratched his head and offered a shy, boyish smile. “Um, I haven’t eaten all day and suddenly got hungry. I was just about to head to the dining hall. Want to join me?”