Chapter Thirteen: Combat Techniques (Part One)

Special treatment? What a joke. Zhao Li could swear to the heavens with the most vicious oath—one that would outrage even divine justice—that he had never thought of seeking special attention from the military. By all that is good and true, anyone who desires such favor from the military deserves only a miserable end!

Yet from Christine’s tone, it seemed she knew something about the inner workings of the Genius School; otherwise, she would not speak with such authority. Zhao Li secretly drew in a breath, realizing that Christine, young as she was, held such a high rank and possessed such extensive knowledge of classified matters—perhaps she herself had emerged from that very institution.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Zhao Li found himself reluctant to spend more time around Christine, feeling that caution was best. For now, only the three of them knew what had transpired; as long as Zhao Li could muddle through these days, any future anomalies could be conveniently attributed to the military’s methods.

Judging by Christine’s words, she clearly approved his return to training—how could Zhao Li refuse? He agreed to everything she said, fleeing the medical bay like a wounded rabbit. Christine’s gentle, alluring laughter echoed behind him as he escaped.

Only after Zhao Li’s figure vanished did Christine withdraw her smile and return to her seat in the medical bay. Her slender, pale fingers danced rhythmically across the control panel, and the display before her shifted to a new image.

“Commander!” Christine saluted crisply at the appearance of a major general on the screen, her posture upright and disciplined. Gone was the coquettish charm of the delicate female medic; her expression now stern, free of any trace of playful provocation.

“Is it all settled?” The major general returned her salute, motioning for Christine to sit, and asked in a seemingly casual manner.

“Yes, Commander!” Christine replied formally, though her tone carried an inexplicable note of disappointment.

“Christine, you are the most outstanding student of this cohort. While we permit mistakes during the internship, nevertheless…” The major general seemed especially concerned with Christine’s performance. “I personally hope this will be the last time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander!” Christine answered solemnly. “Thank you, Commander!”

“We will organize trials with the new recruits based on your report. Focus on your duties during your internship. The new project will still bear your name—be mindful of that!” The major general quickly outlined the arrangements, offered a few simple words of advice, and then cut the communication.

The screen faded, leaving Christine alone in her seat.

Zhao Li, meanwhile, was completely unaware of how narrowly he had avoided becoming a live test subject. If Christine had not been so eager for credit, he would have been a ready-made guinea pig. Even if the higher-ups began experiments immediately, with Zhao Li’s current level of cultivation, it would take an ordinary person at least three years to reach his state.

Christine had infused Zhao Li’s body with enough true energy to equal two months of ceaseless training—quite astonishing that she was willing to expend so much for a mere possibility.

Back in formation, Zhao Li remained among the stragglers at the rear. There was no helping it; though the basic physical training improved one’s constitution, it lacked specificity and could hardly compare to those practicing advanced techniques. Still, its swift circulation and unmatched recovery speed allowed Zhao Li to barely keep pace with the training.

“Didn’t have lunch? Keep going—pick up the pace!” Instructor Arnold’s roar reverberated behind them, and no one wished to be rewarded with a kick from his army boots for lagging, so all pushed themselves desperately forward.

Zhao Li’s lungs burned as if ablaze, but he forced himself onward. He was third from last, and he suspected the other two laggards were suffering from the side effects of practicing brute force techniques—he often heard the sound of the instructor’s boots striking their backsides.

Zhao Li himself was no stranger to the taste of those boots, but Arnold knew his circumstances and so allowed him a little leeway within reason. For example, while others had to achieve excellence, Zhao Li only needed to pass. Still, this leniency could not be too obvious; at most, the force of the boot was gentler when it landed.

Yet this relentless sprint was almost unbearable. The muscle aches in his limbs were minor compared to the agony in his lungs, which felt like engines pushed to their limit, unable to provide more power. Each breath scalded his throat and lungs as if he were inhaling molten lava.

Unable to help himself, he pressed his tongue against his palate—a habitual gesture from his training. As he exhaled through his nose, he felt a stream of true energy flow from his dantian, following familiar channels downward.

Zhao Li could hardly believe his senses: was he actually cultivating in the midst of such intense exercise? How could that be? He was about to cry out in surprise, but suddenly remembered that distraction during cultivation could cause the true energy to run wild, so he forced himself to keep quiet.

The true energy seemed unconcerned by his strenuous exertion, continuing its slow flow. Zhao Li ran dozens of meters with ease, feeling no discomfort. Moreover, the unexpected event sharpened his focus, banishing the pain in his throat and lungs from his mind.

He followed the group instinctively, sweat still pouring from his body, but his mind was cool and clear. The run would last at least another half hour, with no hope of rest. But who could guarantee his true energy would not stray during that time? What if, at a critical moment in his cultivation, Arnold’s boot landed on him?

Unable to suppress his anxiety, Zhao Li quickened his pace, pulling ahead to avoid such a calamity. Only when he felt safe did he begin to pay attention to the flow of true energy within his channels.

Compared to the professional posture of cultivation, the flow of true energy during running was extremely sluggish. In what seemed like ages to Zhao Li, it had only traveled a short distance. If his progress were measured now, it would surely be deemed insufficient.

He continued, anxious and cautious, occasionally checking whether he was falling behind and risking another kick. The ordeal left his face pale, but the silver lining was that he no longer cared about his physical discomfort.

After about fifteen minutes, Zhao Li’s true energy finally completed a full circuit, returning to his dantian. He breathed a solid sigh of relief, his mind suddenly lightened, and his pace slowed.

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