Zhao Mu accepted the bottle of water from Meng Qiuqiu and tilted his head back to drink. The cool liquid slid down his throat, easing the dryness left by intense training. Just as he lowered the bottle, a shadow fell across him.
He looked up.
Standing before him was Jiang Jiui, wearing his signature oversized baseball cap that cast a dark shade over his sharp eyes.
"Instructor? Is something the matter?" Zhao Mu asked politely.
Jiang Jiui stared at him for several seconds without speaking. His gaze was probing, almost measuring.
Finally, he asked slowly, enunciating each word, "What is your name?"
Zhao Mu blinked but kept his smile. "My name is Zhao Mu. I'm a Cadet Soldier who joined Qingfeng Camp this year."
"Zhao Mu…" Jiang Jiui repeated thoughtfully.
Then something clicked.
"You're the double champion of this year's Martial Trial and Literary Trial!"
He nodded to himself.
"No wonder your fundamentals are so solid. Truly astonishing."
But then his expression changed slightly, and he sighed.
"Still… what a pity."
He shook his head, regret flashing briefly across his face.
Jiang Jiui knew Zhao Mu's file well. E-rank Talent. Awakened Combat Level: 1.
In Qingfeng Camp's long history, E-rank Talents had appeared before. But unless their Combat Level could steadily rise, they would inevitably fall behind.
Among Spirit Energy Users, talent determined speed. Speed determined distance. And distance only widened over time.
One step slower at the beginning meant ten steps behind later.
Zhao Mu listened quietly.
Jiang Jiui continued, "Your physical foundation is incredibly solid. With this perseverance, even with E-rank Talent, you might still become an excellent Junior Officer someday."
"Keep working hard."
With that, Jiang Jiui turned and left, no longer observing Zhao Mu's training.
Zhao Mu watched him go, feeling half amused, half helpless.
"Junior Officer?" he muttered softly. "So in his eyes, I won't even make it into Intermediate Camp within five years?"
Meng Qiuqiu slung an arm around Zhao Mu's shoulder. "So what? I believe in you, Brother Xiao Mu!"
He rubbed his hands eagerly.
"Even if Spirit Energy cultivation doesn't work out, you can still become a Jinhai Master. We'll make a fortune together!"
Zhao Mu smiled faintly.
"Only a Jinhai Master? That's far from enough."
His eyes sharpened.
"My goal is to become the strongest Ability User in the entire Xuanfeng Empire."
The words landed like thunder.
Meng Qiuqiu froze.
Zhuo Yun stopped wiping his spear.
Lu Yan blinked in disbelief.
The strongest in the Xuanfeng Empire?
That sounded less like ambition and more like fantasy.
The Xuanfeng Empire spanned vast territories and, due to mandatory population policies, had a population exceeding ten billion citizens.
To rise above ten billion people…
To stand at the very peak…
Even becoming a first-rate Ability User in Jiangnan Province alone would already make someone a regional powerhouse.
But Zhao Mu was talking about the entire Empire.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Only by becoming the strongest can I grasp the rules."
"And only by grasping the rules can I change them."
His voice was calm, but the conviction within it was unshakable.
He clapped his hands once.
"Break's over. Next round."
The three roommates stared at him.
"Next round?" Meng Qiuqiu exclaimed. "You've rested for less than two minutes!"
Zhuo Yun and Lu Yan were already drenched in sweat, their muscles trembling from fatigue.
Yet Zhao Mu stepped back into position.
They didn't know that Zhao Mu had quietly activated the Turtle Breathing Technique.
This technique minimized unnecessary physical exertion and optimized oxygen intake, allowing him to recover stamina far faster than ordinary trainees.
A new round of Seven Kills Battle Method training began.
Punch. Step. Twist. Strike.
The movements were sharp and precise.
Floating invisibly beside him was the demon clown — his strange system manifestation — holding up a small glowing proficiency bar.
With every strike, the bar inched upward.
Slowly.
Almost imperceptibly.
But steadily.
Zhao Mu trained from six in the evening until ten at night. He only paused briefly for dinner before immediately returning to the training hall.
His intensity left his roommates speechless.
Zhuo Yun wiped sweat from his face and sighed.
"No wonder he got first place in both trials. His work ethic is terrifying."
Meng Qiuqiu covered his face dramatically.
"Standing next to him makes me feel like trash. What do I even have besides money?"
Lu Yan, watching Zhao Mu's relentless determination, suddenly clenched his fists.
"We can't fall behind. If we keep slacking, the gap will only widen."
Inspired — and slightly pressured — Lu Yan and Zhuo Yun returned to the training floor.
Even Meng Qiuqiu, who disliked hardship, gritted his teeth and picked up a wooden blade.
They had no idea that Zhao Mu's motivation was different from theirs.
For them, improvement was invisible.
For Zhao Mu, it was measurable.
Every drop of sweat translated directly into progress.
Every repetition increased proficiency.
Every increase made the next movement faster, stronger, smoother.
Most people do not fear hard work.
They fear that their hard work might not produce results.
But when results are visible — when each effort yields clear growth — effort becomes addictive.
Zhao Mu was addicted.
By ten o'clock, Zhuo Yun's muscles were screaming in protest.
"Zhao Mu… I'm done. How much longer are you going?"
He packed his spear back into its case, exhausted.
Sweat streamed down Zhao Mu's body. His training uniform clung to his muscular frame, soaked through completely.
Yet his breathing remained steady.
His eyes were bright.
"I'm fine," Zhao Mu replied. "Another few hours won't be a problem."
The three roommates stared at him like he was some kind of machine.
"Are you made of iron?" Meng Qiuqiu asked incredulously.
Zhao Mu chuckled.
"If you're tired, head back first. Just leave the door unlocked for me."
His Sleep proficiency had already reached 65 — far above average.
Three hours of sleep were sufficient for full recovery.
He had no urgency to return to the dormitory.
The three exchanged glances.
They knew forcing themselves further would only risk injury.
With reluctant waves, they left the training hall.
Zhao Mu remained.
Silence gradually settled over the massive space.
He switched to Eagle Claw Technique training — a foundational grappling method.
Gripping two thirty-pound dumbbells with only his fingers, he lowered into a perfect horse stance.
Veins stood out along his forearms.
His fingers trembled — but did not loosen.
A few passing Cadet Soldiers stopped and stared.
In an era dominated by Combat Level and Spirit Energy, few people invested so much effort into pure physical conditioning.
Such dedication was rare — especially among those with low Talent ranks.
Gradually, the training hall emptied.
One set of overhead lights shut off after another.
Until only Zhao Mu's training area remained illuminated.
Time passed.
Midnight.
One o'clock.
Two o'clock.
He was alone now.
Alone — except for the demon clown floating beside him, silently holding up the glowing proficiency indicator.
Seven Kills Battle Method: Proficiency 173.
The number flickered faintly in the darkness.
Zhao Mu's movements had changed subtly.
His strikes were sharper.
His transitions smoother.
His stance more stable.
Improvement was not explosive.
It was incremental.
Like water dripping onto stone.
One drop did nothing.
But ten thousand drops?
They carved through rock.
On the second-floor balcony overlooking the training hall, a figure stood quietly.
Jiang Jiui.
He had not left entirely.
Hands in his pockets, cap pulled low, he watched the lone figure training under the lights.
Most instructors judged cadets by talent.
But Jiang Jiui had lived long enough to know—
Talent determined the starting line.
Perseverance determined the finish line.
He watched Zhao Mu complete another flawless sequence of movements, muscles trembling but form unbroken.
"This kid…" Jiang Jiui murmured softly.
There was something different about him.
Not just his fundamentals.
Not just his endurance.
It was the look in his eyes.
A quiet certainty.
As if he could already see the future he was building.
Jiang Jiui's gaze lingered on the glowing proficiency number — though he could not see the demon clown, he could sense the rhythm of Zhao Mu's growth.
Steady.
Unwavering.
Like dripping water wearing away stone.
Perhaps…
Just perhaps…
E-rank Talent did not define everything.
Jiang Jiui turned and left silently.
Below, Zhao Mu exhaled slowly and reset his stance.
Another repetition.
Another drop of water.
Another tiny increase.
He did not know how long the road ahead would be.
He did not know how high the summit stood.
But he knew one thing with absolute clarity:
As long as he continued moving forward —
No matter how slow —
No matter how small the progress —
He would eventually surpass those who relied solely on talent.
In the quiet training hall, under a single beam of light, Zhao Mu struck once more.
And the proficiency bar rose by another fraction.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Stone would yield.
Eventually.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)