Time passed imperceptibly, and two weeks had gone by since Cheng Mo arrived at Peach Mountain.
His Thunder Breathing had fully entered the beginner stage, and his daily training was now effortless for him.
Kuwajima Jigorō, although shocked by his rapid progress, realized that the time was almost right.
He began to demonstrate the various 'Forms' of Thunder Breathing to Cheng Mo, explaining the characteristics and force application methods of each Form.
First was the famous First Form: Thunderclap and Flash from the original work.
Extreme speed and single-target burst damage, it was also the core technique of Thunder Breathing.
The Myriad Realms Physique allowed him to better withstand the physical burden brought by high speed, and stronger muscle control enabled him to exert force more perfectly.
This was also Cheng Mo's first choice and a mandatory skill.
The Second Form: Rice Spirit was a five-strike attack, requiring extremely precise control.
The Third Form: Thunder Swarm was an area-of-effect lightning slash, requiring strong physical ability and energy guidance to master.
The Fourth Form: Distant Thunder was a mid-range thrusting slash.
The Fifth Form: Heat Lightning was a high-temperature, lethal slash.
The Sixth Form: Electric Roaring Thunder was a super wide-range, sweeping attack.
Cheng Mo listened intently, his brain rapidly analyzing and comparing.
Aside from the First Form, the other sword Forms had a wide range and many variations, but their power was dispersed, and their instantaneous killing efficiency was not as good as concentrated breakthrough.
His goal was clear and distinct—the most efficient survival and slaying.
Flashy techniques held little meaning in the face of absolute speed and power.
His gaze finally locked onto that simplest, yet most extreme, single technique.
First Form: Thunderclap and Flash.
Concentrating all his strength into one point, transforming into lightning, he would thrust and slash with ultimate speed.
The core secret of Thunder Breathing, extreme speed brings extreme destructive power.
"Teacher," Cheng Mo spoke, his tone devoid of any hesitation, "I want to primarily focus on First Form: Thunderclap and Flash first."
Kuwajima Jigorō paused slightly: "Won't you learn more about the other Forms? Each has its uses."
"No need," Cheng Mo shook his head, "At this stage, biting off more than I can chew. I only seek to perfect the fastest and sharpest strike to its absolute limit."
Kuwajima Jigorō looked at his resolute gaze, slowly nodding, the admiration in his eyes growing deeper: "Good! To see your path clearly and persist in following it is the heart of a strong person! Then let's start with Thunderclap and Flash!"
From then on, Cheng Mo's training entered a new phase, becoming even more monotonous and intense.
Morning, afternoon, late night... on the open ground of Peach Mountain, he could always be seen repeating the same movement over and over again.
Push off!
The dirt beneath his feet exploded into shallow pits, his body like a spring compressed to its limit.
Dash!
He violently channeled the energy of Thunder Breathing into his legs, his entire being transforming into a blur of afterimage skimming the ground, the wind he generated making the fallen leaves dance wildly.
Converge!
Maintaining absolute calm at extreme speed, he forcibly restrained the surging energy, concentrating it into his sword-wielding right arm.
Slash!
In a flash, all power was released, the wooden sword cut through the air, emitting a sharp shriek!
Then, he stopped, regulated his breathing, savored the feeling, found his shortcomings, and repeated again.
Monotonous, extremely monotonous.
But for Cheng Mo, each repetition was not a simple copy.
The Myriad Realms Physique allowed him to clearly perceive the tremor of muscle fibers with each exertion, the subtle deviations in energy flow, the changes in air resistance... He was like a precise instrument, constantly fine-tuning and optimizing every detail.
The angle of the push-off was off?
Adjust.
The breathing rhythm during the dash caused energy to dissipate?
Correct.
The stability of the wrist during the slash was insufficient?
Strengthen control.
His practice count was several times, even ten times, that of Kaigaku.
Each practice was accompanied by immense physical strain; the wind pressure from high speed felt like a dull knife scraping his skin, and the impact of sudden stops and turns on his joints and muscles was even more astonishing.
But his terrifying recovery ability and endurance allowed him to ignore these unimaginable burdens that ordinary people couldn't bear, dedicating his entire mind to the pursuit of "extremity."
His progress was visible to the naked eye.
From struggling to maintain his posture after dashing a dozen meters, to now being able to continuously dash for tens of meters with a stable trajectory.
From scattered power during slashes, to now the wooden sword's cutting sound becoming sharper and more concentrated.
From being breathless after one completion, to now being able to perform several high-quality thrusts consecutively.
Kuwajima Jigorō often leaned on his cane, standing by the side, watching silently, the shock on his stern face becoming increasingly difficult to hide.
"Mon...monster..."
Zenitsu had been dumbfounded more than once, forgetting to wail, muttering to himself.
"Doesn't he get tired? That speed... it looks like his bones are going to fall apart..."
Meanwhile, Kaigaku's face grew darker and uglier by the day.
He was also training diligently, but he chose the more varied Second Form and Third Form.
He still couldn't grasp the instantaneous burst secret of First Form: Thunderclap and Flash.
No matter how desperately he tried, his thrusts always seemed sluggish, clumsy, lacking that sense of unyielding sharpness that tears through everything.
This had almost become his inner demon.
Originally, only the "good-for-nothing" Zenitsu could occasionally use that damned First Form, though completely uncontrolled, which already made him feel deeply humiliated.
Now, another person, Cheng Mo, a "parachuted" guy, not only made rapid progress in basic Breathing Technique, but also mastered the First Form, the very skill he most desired but couldn't master, at a despairing speed! This was a swordsmanship he yearned for but couldn't attain!
That jealousy and anxiety almost consumed him.
He trained even more frantically, even to the point of disregarding his body's endurance, but with little effect.
And the more he failed, the more he couldn't bear to see Cheng Mo's repeated successful thrusts.
Why?
An unknown merchant?
Why could he gain his grandfather's favor?
Why could he so easily master the power he dreamed of?
During training, Kaigaku's petty tricks became more frequent and malicious.
When Cheng Mo was dashing at full speed, he would "accidentally" kick a pebble onto Cheng Mo's path.
When Cheng Mo was focused on adjusting his breathing, he would deliberately make loud noises nearby.
There was even one time he tried to create more hidden cracks on the training wooden sword Cheng Mo often used.
But these tricks, in front of Cheng Mo's absolute perception and reaction, appeared ridiculous and powerless.
The pebble was easily avoided, the noise was completely ignored, and as for the tampered wooden sword, Cheng Mo knew it with a touch of his fingertips when he picked it up, directly throwing it aside and grabbing another, without even glancing at Kaigaku during the entire process.
That complete, as if the other person was just insignificant dust, disregard, made Kaigaku feel more humiliated and enraged than any retaliation.
Cheng Mo could clearly feel that almost materialized malice.
His response to this was to focus even more on the wooden sword in his hand, honing each push-off, each dash, each slash to be more perfect, more swift, more lethal.
The whistling sound of cutting through the air, the steadily increasing speed each time, were in themselves like silent slaps, hitting Kaigaku's twisted face.
The air on Peach Mountain, amidst the scent of sweat and dirt, quietly filled with an increasingly strong, uneasy scent of gunpowder.
Cheng Mo was single-minded, his eyes only on the target ahead that needed to be cut down.
His speed became faster and faster.