Kuwajima Jigorō observed all of this.
The old man's stern gaze lingered longer on Kaigaku, occasionally showing a hint of disappointment, but he did not directly expose him.
In contrast, his interactions with Cheng Mo were much smoother.
The old man was greatly pleased by Cheng Mo's rapid progress, and a bright light often flashed in his cloudy eyes.
But he was, after all, a strict teacher, and his supervision never relaxed.
"Cheng Mo, sink your breathing a little deeper! Engage your core, don't just use your arms!"
"Your speed has increased, but your power is dispersed."
"Focus! The essence of Thunder Breathing is condensation!"
He leaned on his cane, giving instructions in a booming voice, not missing a single detail.
Cheng Mo listened attentively and executed strictly.
He knew the importance of fundamentals; they determined how far he could go in the future.
He didn't blindly pursue speed, striving for standard movements in every action and repeatedly refining every breath.
Occasionally, during training breaks, he would seemingly casually bring up some concepts of modern sports rehabilitation.
"Teacher, your old leg injury, does it bother you more when the weather turns cold? In my hometown, there's a folk remedy: applying hot compresses with mugwort and ginger slices. Perhaps it could relieve some of the soreness."
Or, when he saw the old man rubbing his lower back after standing for a long time, he would hand him a cup of warm water and calmly say, "Maintaining one posture for a long time puts a lot of strain on the lumbar spine. Moving around occasionally helps a lot."
These acts of care were just right, subtle, not overly solicitous, and more like a natural expression based on "medical common sense."
Kuwajima Jigorō would first be slightly stunned, then a hint of warmth would appear in his eyes.
He had been strict his whole life, and his disciples mostly held him in awe. This kind of meticulous yet selfless care was somewhat gratifying to him.
"Hmm... I'm old, my body's not what it used to be. You're thoughtful," he would reply, his tone a little softer than usual.
Cheng Mo's questions about his training often surprised Kuwajima Jigorō.
Most other disciples would ask, "How do I do this movement?" or "How do I apply force in that technique?" but Cheng Mo's questions were deeper.
"Teacher, when the breathing energy flows through the Lung Meridian of Hand Taiyin, why is there a slight sense of blockage at the Zhongfu acupoint? Is it a problem with the breathing rhythm, or does the method of applying force need adjustment?"
"When concentrating explosive power at a single point, how does one balance its recoil force on the internal organs?"
These questions directly pointed to the core mysteries of Thunder Breathing's energy circulation, demonstrating the questioner's ultimate control over his own body and extraordinary comprehension.
When Kuwajima Jigorō answered, he was also more attentive, often elaborating on deeper principles.
The old man and the young man were often immersed in this almost "academic discussion" atmosphere.
This made Kaigaku's face even gloomier.
Day after day of arduous training, the Myriad Realms Physique's affinity for and control over energy became increasingly apparent.
With Kuwajima Jigorō's approval, Cheng Mo began to attempt to guide the Breathing Technique energy into the blade.
He was still using a training wooden sword.
Holding his breath and concentrating, the Thunder Breathing Technique rapidly circulated within his body.
His chest expanded, and the inhaled airflow transformed into surging energy, rushing forward along specific meridians.
His mind was highly focused, guiding that hot and violent energy flow, trying to infuse it into his sword-wielding right arm, and finally forcing it into the ordinary wooden sword.
In the initial attempts, the energy vibrated violently upon reaching his wrist, making it difficult to maintain, then dispersed with a roar, and the recoil made his arm tingle slightly.
Later, the energy barely managed to rush into the wooden sword, but the wooden sword was completely unable to withstand this power, emitting a groaning sound of being overwhelmed, and fine cracks even appeared on the blade.
Cheng Mo did not get impatient.
He slowed his breathing, carefully feeling every subtle change in the energy flow, adjusting the intensity and frequency of the output.
"Material limitations... the violent nature of the energy... requires more precise control..."
He tried again and again, failed, adjusted, and tried again.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, but his eyes were focused, his mind undisturbed.
Finally, after who knows how many attempts—
Sizzle!
An extremely faint, yet clearly audible, low hum sounded.
On the surface of the training wooden sword in his hand, a very faint, flickering, pale white aura subtly appeared, like a layer of weak electric arc, emitting tiny crackling sounds.
Although it was fleeting, the wooden sword also cracked with a distinct fissure.
But at that moment, the energy was indeed successfully guided and temporarily attached to the blade.
Kuwajima Jigorō, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, suddenly burst forth with astonishing brilliance in his eyes, and his hand gripping the cane unconsciously tightened.
"Good boy!" His voice carried an irrepressible excitement, "How long has it been... to actually..."
Zenitsu, standing nearby, stared dumbfounded, forgetting to complain.
And Kaigaku stared intently at the cracked wooden sword, his face pale.
His lips were pressed into a bloodless straight line, and the jealousy and a certain almost desperate emotion in his eyes were practically overflowing.
Cheng Mo slowly exhaled a turbid breath, looking at the Abandoned wooden sword in his hand, feeling the peculiar energy resonance of that instant.
The first step was successful.
He thought calmly.
He was one step closer to truly mastering Thunder Breathing.
Days passed in sweat and the tempering of the Breathing Technique.
Cheng Mo's perception of Kuwajima Jigorō quietly changed.
Initially, he primarily viewed the old man as a means to acquire power, a "resource" with whom he needed to maintain a good relationship.
His respect and those subtle acts of care were all tinged with shrewd calculation.
But day after day, watching the old man, dragging his broken body, tirelessly demonstrating, explaining, and correcting.
That booming voice often grew hoarse from long hours of teaching, those sharp eyes were often bloodshot from intently watching his disciples' movements... He saw how the old man treated him.
Behind that strict, almost harsh demand, was an unreserved imparting of knowledge.
Every question received a detailed, even excessive, answer, and every small improvement brought more profound guidance.
The old man unreservedly laid out his lifelong learning, imbued with the power of thunder, before Cheng Mo, only hoping that he could go further.
This pure, non-utilitarian dedication, this deep sense of responsibility towards his disciple, and the old man's own character, as upright and resolute as a rock, quietly touched Cheng Mo's pragmatic heart, which was accustomed to calculation and exchange.