Ethan nodded.
He moved to the center of the training ground and took a deep breath.
Then he began.
The first punch flowed into the second. The second into the third. His body moved like water, each movement seamless and fluid.
He entered a state of flow.
His awareness narrowed to the rhythm of his movements. The rotation of his fists. The shift of his weight. The controlled exhale of his breath.
He didn't think.
He just moved.
---
Master Tim's eyes widened as he watched.
The technique was beautiful.
It was more than beautiful. It was perfect.
Every movement was exactly right. The angles. The rotations. The breathing. The positioning of the feet.
Ethan's Minor Completion Stage was at least five times more refined than his own.
And he had spent twenty years perfecting it.
"How is this possible?" Tim muttered under his breath. "How can he be this precise at Minor Completion?"
His hands trembled with excitement.
This boy was a gem.
A diamond hidden in the rough.
Ethan finally stopped, his chest heaving slightly. His movements had slowed a fraction at the end, but the quality had remained impeccable.
"Marvelous," Tim breathed.
He stepped forward, his voice filled with genuine admiration.
"You have mastered the Minor Completion Stage perfectly. Now it's time for you to learn the Major Completion Stage."
He positioned himself and began to move.
His movements were similar to Ethan's, but different.
More lethal.
More aggressive.
Every punch was aimed to kill. Every shift of weight was calculated for maximum damage.
Ethan watched intently, his eyes tracing every detail.
Tim finished and turned to him.
"Have you seen? Do you want me to show you again?"
"No need, Master," Ethan replied. "I've seen it. I can practice now."
Tim raised an eyebrow but nodded.
"Very well. Come to me if you don't understand anything."
He turned and walked away, leaving Ethan alone in the training ground.
---
Ethan began practicing immediately.
He tried to replicate what Tim had shown him.
The movements were supposed to flow from the Minor Completion stage, building on the foundation he had already established.
But it wasn't working.
His body couldn't follow. His fists felt clumsy. His rotations were off.
He practiced for two hours.
Nothing.
Frustration gnawed at him.
The system had given him perfect comprehension of the Minor Completion Stage, but he didn't have enough credits for the Major Completion.
He would have to wait.
His stomach growled loudly.
"I'm so hungry," he muttered.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and made his way downstairs.
---
The main hall was buzzing with activity.
Groups of students were scattered across the training ground, some practicing, others receiving instruction.
At the center of a group, Ethan spotted a familiar face.
Jack Snow.
The senior martial student who had been glaring at him yesterday.
Jack was demonstrating the technique to a group of junior students, his movements were precise and confident.
Ethan paused to watch.
"Brother Jack, I can't understand what my mistake is," one of the juniors said, frustration clear in his voice. "Can you show me one more time?"
Jack sighed dramatically.
"Watch closely this time. And try to actually pay attention."
He repeated the movement, slower this time.
The junior tried to copy it, but his fist was tilted wrong. His elbow was too high. His breathing was off.
"You're doing it wrong," Jack said impatiently. "Do it again."
Ethan watched for a few more minutes.
His frown deepened.
What was Jack teaching them?
The instructions were wrong. The angles were incorrect. The breathing rhythm was completely off.
The juniors were flailing, trying to copy something that was fundamentally flawed.
Jack was teaching them bullshit.
Ethan felt a flicker of irritation.
Then he smiled.
An opportunity.
He stepped forward.
"Excuse me, Brother Jack. Can I give them some pointers?"
Jack's head snapped toward him.
His eyes turned cold.
"Oh? Junior Brother, you think you can teach better than me just because Master offered you some benefits?"
His voice was dripping with contempt.
"You're just a Junior Martial Student. I am a Senior Martial Student."
Ethan ignored him completely.
He turned to the juniors, a warm smile on his face.
"Junior brothers, let me show you something."
He positioned himself and began to demonstrate.
The first movement was slow, almost languid.
But as soon as he started, the juniors felt it.
The technique was clear. Every detail was visible. Every angle was exact. The rhythm of the breathing was perfectly timed.
It was as if a fog had been lifted from their eyes.
Some of them gasped.
Others just stared, transfixed.
Ethan finished the demonstration and turned to face them.
"I am Ethan Velmir," he said, his voice casual but confident. "If you want me to teach you and help you become Junior Martial Students within a month, come here tomorrow with five hundred credits."
The juniors stared at him.
"Per person, per day," he added with a smile. "Five hundred credits."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Jack roared.
His face was red with fury.
"How audacious! How dare you ask for money in Master's dojo just for teaching your junior brothers? Don't you have any responsibility as their senior brother to teach them?"
Ethan turned to face him.
"What the fuck are you even talking about?" he asked sweetly.
"Why would I teach them for free when I'm guaranteeing them success in one month?"
He paused, his smile widening.
"If I fail, I'll return their full payment."
The juniors looked at him with wide eyes. Five hundred credits daily was excessive.
But success within a month?
Was that even possible?
Jack laughed hysterically.
"Hahahahaha! Whom do you think you are? Guaranteeing success within a month? Even Master can't do that!"
His voice rose, drawing attention from the other students.
"Are you saying you're greater than him?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Want to bet a hundred thousand credits?"
The room went silent.
Jack's face contorted with rage.
Ethan waved a hand dismissively.
"Forget it," he said with a sigh. "I don't think you have the balls."
Jack's fists clenched.
His jaw tightened.
His entire body was trembling.
"You!"
He was a Senior Martial Student with a punch force of three hundred kilograms. He could kill this bastard with a single blow.
But he couldn't.
Not here.
Not in front of everyone.
He took a deep, shaky breath and forced himself to calm down.
"Fine," he spat.
"Bet accepted. If you fail and don't pay me the money, trust me, you will suffer."
He turned to leave, his back rigid with fury.
"Senior Brother Jack," Ethan called after him.
Jack stopped and turned.
"Huh? Want to withdraw already? It's too late."
Ethan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Please sign this," he said with a sheepish smile. "Or else if you refuse to acknowledge the bet later, what will I do?"
Jack stared at him.
His eye twitched violently.
"You...!"
He snatched the paper and signed it with a vicious scribble.
Then he threw it at Ethan's chest and stalked away.
Ethan caught the paper and examined it.
A triumphant smile spread across his face.
Money.
He had found his source of money.
He turned back to the juniors.
"Junior brothers," he said, his voice was friendly. "Please spread this message to the other juniors too."
He tucked the paper into his pocket and walked away, humming a tuneless melody.
His body still ached from last night's training.
He was exhausted.
But right now, he felt like he was walking on clouds.