A familiar surge of energy swept through him again—this time, far stronger than ever before.
Chen Sanshi stood still, feeling his Archery skill soaring at a speed visible to the naked eye.
From seventy steps, to eighty, and finally—one hundred steps, every shot hit the mark as if guided by fate.
At a hundred steps, the target was no larger than a willow leaf—something an ordinary man could barely even see.
Yet every arrow struck dead center. And he could fire three arrows in a single blink.
One flick consisted of twenty blinks.
Three blinks—that was roughly one second.
From drawing the arrow, to aiming, to release—everything completed within one breath.
Even the best snipers from his previous world needed at least two seconds to aim properly.
But beyond his enhanced archery, his body began to change again—growing, reshaping, rebuilding from the inside out.
His bones shifted and stretched, becoming perfectly suited for the bow, refined toward the limit of what an archer could be.
For an archer, long arms meant greater draw strength.
His arms grew lean and strong, like those of an ape.
The waist and back determined how much power could be drawn into a bow, so his spine compacted, his waist slimmed yet strengthened, muscles pulling tight like cords of steel.
Ape Arms, Wasp Waist—Bones of Steel.
The entire process was swift and silent, like being rebuilt under anesthesia.
Every trace of fatigue vanished, replaced by overflowing vitality and strength.
When Chen Sanshi opened his eyes again, night had fallen.
The vast archery field was empty and quiet beneath a silver moon hanging high.
He ate a few bites of the leftover dry rations from noon, then carried his iron spear into the training ground.
He picked up the plum-blossom spear resting on the weapon rack and began recalling the Thirty-Six Forms of Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry, practicing them slowly one by one.
The combined strain of stance drills and spear training tore at his muscles, filling his limbs with pain that made him tremble uncontrollably. He clenched his molars so hard they nearly cracked, but his arms never stopped moving.
Before, when he practiced spearwork, his body had felt like an old rusted machine—functional but sluggish, every motion draining.
Now, after his body had evolved with Archery: Minor Achievement, it was as if that machine had been fitted with brand-new parts.
Still heavy—but smooth, efficient, and alive.
Fourth Form—complete!
Fifth Form—complete!
Sixth Form—complete!
He continued practicing form after form, relentless as the tide.
Without the breathing method to reduce strain, several times his lungs felt ready to burst, his throat thick and metallic with the taste of blood.
Each time his body neared its limit, he poured a bucket of cold water over himself, rested for a moment, then resumed his training without hesitation.
The more he practiced, the more natural the plum-blossom spear felt in his grip. His movements quickened, flowing with instinctive precision.
Tenth Form!
Eleventh Form!
Keep going!
Time flowed unnoticed—sun and moon traded places.
In the garrison, soldiers began reporting in for duty as dawn approached, the camp gradually filling with noise and life.
Xu Wencai crawled out of his tent, stretching lazily toward the rising light.
"The plan for the day begins at dawn," he muttered, flipping open a scroll.
Just then, he caught faint shouts echoing from the training grounds—hoarse, ragged, yet filled with unyielding determination.
Annoyed by the noise, he followed the sound, and what he saw left him speechless.
The rising sun cast red light across the field.
There, a shirtless youth stood amidst the glow.
Though not tall, his body was lean and powerful, muscles tight and defined, his frame tapering into a sharp V-shape.
His skin flushed red, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging as he swung the iron spear like a wild beast cornered to the edge of madness.
"Shitou's been training all night? Has he lost his mind?!"
Xu Wencai sprinted back to the tents, yanking Zhu Tong awake.
"Old Zhu, quick! Stop him before something bad happens!"
Zhu Tong rushed to the training ground, but when he saw the scene before him, his pupils contracted sharply.
This wasn't someone on the verge of collapse.
This was someone on the verge of a breakthrough.
Every movement the young man made—it was unmistakable.
He was performing the final form of the Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry.
Outside the barracks, the sound of clashing armor and dragging footsteps echoed through the morning fog.
The soldiers who'd left yesterday trudged back into camp, eyes dark with exhaustion.
But the few Hundred-Households walking at the front looked the complete opposite—cheerful, well-rested, and full of energy.
"The new girls at Spring Full Pavilion—now that's real comfort."
"Yeah, yeah, soft as silk and fresh as morning dew."
"Hahaha! Fat Wang, looks like we're comrades in pleasure now. You'd better take care of us next time."
"Hah! Naturally, naturally."
"Still," another warned, "best keep it quiet for a while."
Unlike the others, Hundred-Household Liu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes. "Thousand-Household is furious. He's ordered us to find that barbarian assassin within ten days, no excuses this time. He's truly enraged."
"Old Liu, you take this too seriously," said Hundred-Household Xiong lazily. "That barbarian's no pushover. You think our lousy pay is worth dying for?"
"Exactly," another snorted. "Who knows why the Thousand-Household's in such a rush? That barbarian's probably long gone by now."
Fat Wang suddenly froze mid-step. "Wait… what's that noise?"
Around the edge of the training field, a crowd had gathered. Dozens of soldiers craned their necks to see what was going on, pushing and whispering excitedly.
"What's the fuss?! You lot never train this hard when you're supposed to! Move aside!"
Wang kicked a few men out of the way, clearing a path for the rest to look.
What they saw made even him pause.
Red tassels flashed in the air as a plum-blossom iron spear spun wildly in a young man's hands, the wind screaming with every strike. Dust swirled in circles as he completed the Thirty-Six Forms of Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry—each motion smooth, seamless, and fierce.
"Bang!"
The spear lashed out like lightning, impaling the wooden training dummy clean through. Straw burst into the air like blood spraying from a wound.
Chen Sanshi exhaled heavily, his body trembling as he drove the spear into the ground for support. He dropped to one knee, panting, chest rising and falling violently with each ragged breath that smelled faintly of blood.
But his lips curled into a faint smile.
He'd done it.
Even without the breathing method, he had mastered the basic spear technique.
Whether or not he could qualify for the Elite Selection, he was at least guaranteed to advance to martial soldier.
…
"I'll be damned…"
Hundred-Household Liu's eyes went wide. He slapped Xiong's shoulder hard. "Old Xiong—didn't he just spend all yesterday practicing archery?"
Xiong's bamboo toothpick fell right out of his mouth. "Yeah! When we left, he was still shooting arrows!"
"Then that means… he started practicing spear techniques last night—and by this morning, he's already fluent enough to complete the entire set?"
Liu swallowed hard, disbelief thick in his voice. "One… one night? He mastered it in a single night?"
Mastered in a single night!
What kind of concept was that?!
And the most terrifying part—he didn't even have the breathing method!
Without it, training was twice as slow and ten times more painful—no less than a torture in a dungeon.
How terrifying must his talent and willpower be to endure that kind of suffering?
And if he did have the breathing method… how long would he need then?
Half a night? A few hours? Maybe less?
'No,' Liu thought, his eyes sharpening. 'This one can't be let go.'
No matter what grudge he had with Tianyuan Martial Hall, Liu was determined to smooth it over personally.
"Old Xiong, you shameless bastard!"
Liu snapped out of his thoughts just in time to see Xiong already striding toward the field with a greedy look.
He lunged forward and grabbed his arm. "We agreed—no one steals him from me!"
"Like hell I did! When did I ever promise that?!" Xiong barked, trying to shake him off.
"You thick-headed ox! Leaving a genius like that to you would be a waste!"
"Ha! Coming from you? If it weren't for your daddy's rank, you'd still be a lowly flag officer!"
"You brute! Want to settle it right here?"
"Bring it on!"
The surrounding soldiers exchanged stunned looks.
They'd all heard rumors that the young man had offended powerful people, that his future in the garrison was doomed.
Yet now, two Hundred-Households were practically fighting over him!
Things in the army really did turn upside down fast.
If he'd only been decently talented, they might have pitied him—but no one would risk their own position for his sake.
But once his true worth became clear, a little "favor" meant nothing in comparison.
Just as Liu and Xiong were about to throw punches, a sly, mocking voice cut through the air.
"Well, Little Shitou," the man drawled. "Didn't I say I'd teach you in two days?"
"Come on then. Today makes day two."