Chapter Eighteen: Practical Training

Sunday—this is crucial, because school starts tomorrow!

Cheng Feng, keeping his promise from yesterday's training, set out for the Lightspeed Sword Hall to find Yan Ruying for special training. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind.

Last night, Jiang Qian’s words revealed an important fact: far in the distant West, the bloodthirsty Lord Dracula had set his sights on him.

From now on, Cheng Feng would be the primary target for every undead monster.

He no longer had much time for peace and needed to improve himself quickly.

He had to become strong enough—not just to protect himself, but to shield those around him as well.

To learn more about the monsters of this world, he had stayed up late browsing the internet. He spent a full two hours at his computer, poring over all the available data on known monsters, hungry for greater understanding.

He discovered that hundreds of years ago, for reasons still unknown, countless supernatural monsters had emerged and attacked humanity. The cause of their birth remains a mystery.

Among the lesser monsters, there is no clear ranking of power.

Only the "Abyssal Ones" have been singled out by humanity as a class unto themselves—the very apex of all monsters.

No matter how advanced human technology and weaponry become, no matter how many years of progress, they cannot stand against what?

Natural disasters.

Monsters of the Abyssal class are as terrifying as moving natural disasters; wherever one appears, an irrevocable catastrophe follows.

There are currently five such calamity-class monsters in the world. The last time they appeared, ten years ago, brought humanity to the brink of annihilation. Since then, they have vanished.

That one encounter left a deep shadow over the governments of mankind.

Therefore, every year the Disaster Association desperately seeks to recruit new combatants. Anyone who awakens supernatural powers is offered generous incentives to join the organization.

Even now, the highest rank granted to combatants within the Association is "Ace."

Worryingly, how much chance does a single Ace have against a single Abyssal One? The answer remains unknown.

...

Today was the first day of his training. Cheng Feng arrived early at the training hall.

The other trainees had not yet arrived; the space felt vast and silent.

No matter how grueling today’s training would be, he was determined to see it through. In order to survive in this world, he had to become stronger...

He repeated this to himself.

A tall woman, who had clearly been waiting for some time, stood in the ring. Seeing that the boy had kept his word and come, she offered him a look of genuine approval.

Yan Ruying smirked and said with no courtesy, “Did you bring ointment for swelling and pain? Even if you end up on your knees begging for mercy, the special training won’t stop.”

Cheng Feng ignored her verbal jabs, changed into the hall’s white practice uniform, tied on the black sash, and leapt into the ring.

Today, Yan Ruying wore her golden hair in a high ponytail, a black tank top, camouflage pants, and combat boots. Her exposed skin was healthily tanned, and the curve stretching her tank top at the chest was nothing short of striking.

Cheng Feng asked, “How are we training?”

“Simple,” she replied with a bright laugh, tossing him a wooden sword. “Sparring!”

“Sparring?!” Cheng Feng caught the sword, his face full of disbelief. “I haven’t even learned the basics, and you want me to spar? How can a rookie like me possibly be your match? What kind of training is this?”

Yan Ruying had clearly expected this reaction and mocked him: “Didn’t you say you wanted to get strong fast? This is my method. What, are you backing out already?”

Before Cheng Feng could answer, Yan Ruying continued, “Or do you want to be like the other new trainees and start from the ground up, grinding the basics for years before you achieve anything? Of course, I won’t force you. If you don’t want my sparring method, I’ll just teach you swordsmanship step by step.”

“No need.”

After a deep breath, a steely resolve flickered in Cheng Feng’s eyes. He gripped the wooden sword tightly. “I choose sparring.”

“Good!” Yan Ruying raised her sword, pointing it straight at him, her teeth flashing in a challenging smile. “Let’s see if your words match your strength!”

There was no more talking. She launched herself forward, legs exploding with power. Cheng Feng swung his sword, aiming straight at her proud, spirited face.

Her figure blurred, dodging his attack with a flexibility so great that he couldn’t even track her movements.

At the same instant, her wooden sword struck him, the pain making his own movements sluggish and pulling his focus away.

His first attack failed, and he immediately fell behind.

Yan Ruying quickly seized the rhythm of the match. Cheng Feng fought with all his might, but he simply couldn’t keep up with her speed and was forced back at every exchange.

After all, it was his very first sword fight; he was a greenhorn, and before a true master, all his efforts were little more than overestimating himself.

He felt as though he was being toyed with from start to finish, while Yan Ruying moved with calm ease, her wooden sword a flurry of wind and rain, leaving him no chance to fight back.

Yan Ruying didn’t hold back—perhaps she even struck harder on purpose. With a powerful horizontal slash to his midsection, she sent him flying.

She laughed at him: “Not good enough, boy. I’m not even using a tenth of my strength. You should just go home.”

Cheng Feng coughed twice, trying to steady his erratic breathing.

Under his uniform, his body was already swollen and red in several places. His arm was mottled with bruises under his sleeve, the pain so intense his forehead broke out in a cold sweat.

Very soon, his vampiric healing kicked in, and the redness and bruises vanished from his skin. Within moments, it was as if he’d never been hurt at all—flawlessly restored.

“Again!” Cheng Feng called, reborn and bracing on his sword to rise once more.

“Not bad. Of all my students, you’re the first with the guts to say those words,” Yan Ruying complimented him. Cheng Feng didn’t hesitate; he charged in for another round.

He forced himself to remain calm. Though he was repeatedly beaten, he still tried to observe Yan Ruying’s swift and forceful swordplay, hoping to grasp some essence of her technique.

But it was no use. She was simply too fast.

He couldn’t even see her moves, much less learn from them, let alone hope to win.

His own sword swings were wild and uncoordinated—a complete mismatch for her. Still, he launched attack after attack, desperately trying to land a hit.

Again, he was knocked down, and though his wounds healed quickly, the pain and exhaustion gnawed away at his will.

He was close to his limit...

Even if his injuries would heal, the pain of each blow was real and sharp.

For a moment, the thought of giving up flashed through his mind—but the very next instant, Cheng Feng banished it.

If he couldn’t endure even this much adversity,

how could he ever survive in a world filled with monsters?

One deep breath, a clench of his jaw, and he charged Yan Ruying once more, unafraid.

Outwardly, Yan Ruying remained calm, but inside, a ripple of surprise had begun to stir.

She had taught for over twenty years, yet never before met a student like Cheng Feng.

By now, any other trainee would have been wailing for their parents, but Cheng Feng’s will remained utterly unbroken, as if he were a machine impervious to pain.

No matter how many times he was knocked down, the young man rose again and again, launching fresh attacks each time.

Even more impressive, Yan Ruying could sense from his swordplay that he was improving—growing at a noticeable rate. She was forced to look at him in a new light.