"I can't anymore, Senior Brother Fang… you are very harsh…"

  Ping's voice sounded on the verge of collapse.

  "Come on," Fang Li replied with calm firmness, "I know you can endure more. Hit harder."

  The next impact was more forceful, followed by a faint groan.

  "It's impossible!" Ping protested, panting. "If we keep going like this, he's going to kill me, Brother Fang!"

  Fang Li was standing, his upper robe removed and his torso bare. In front of him, Ping held a thick stick with both hands, clearly hesitating between obeying and preserving his clear conscience.

  "Don't be dramatic," Fang Li said, adjusting his posture. "I'm the one receiving."

  Ping swallowed.

  "But… I don't feel like I'm doing anything to you," Ping complained while feeling wronged.

  "That means it's working," Fang replied naturally.

  Ping closed his eyes for a second and raised the stick again.

  The blow came down with more resolve this time, striking Fang Li's shoulder with a dry sound.

  Fang Li smiled as he enjoyed the pain provided by the strike, but above all the notifications that floated before him.

  On his interface, continuous notifications appeared every time he received a blow.

  +20

  +20

  The corner of his lips lifted slightly.

  "See?" he said with contained satisfaction. "Again, I'm almost there."

  Ping looked at him as if he were participating in a strange ritual whose logic he did not understand, but even so, he raised the stick again.

  The next blow descended with renewed strength and crashed against Fang Li's side.

  At that instant, something changed in his status window.

  Iron Blood Body Refinement TechniqueLevel 3 (298/300) ≥ Level 4 (3/400)

  Fang Li felt the change immediately, his blood moved with greater density and for a second he allowed himself evident satisfaction.

  But when he fixed his gaze on the new experience requirement, his expression tightened slightly. "What the hell, why is the experience conversion so low?"

  "Ping," he said in a serious tone, "hit me again. As hard as you can."

  Ping, who was blowing on his hands because of the burning accumulated from so many stick strikes, flinched and looked at him with moist eyes.

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  "Again? Brother Fang… I swear that if it weren't you, I would think you have strange hobbies."

  Fang Li snorted impatiently.

  "What are you talking about? This is training. And relax… if my guess is correct, this will be the last one."

  Ping looked at him with a mixture of fear and resignation while adjusting his grip on the stick, preparing himself. He gathered the little strength he had left and brought the blow down with all the weight of his body. The impact echoed dryly against Fang Li's torso.

  +5

  Seeing that pitiful number, Fang Li nodded in understanding.

  Not all progress was the same. Experience gain depended on the type of technique and the intensity of the stimulus. With "Light Wind Step" the progress had been more stable and constant; here, on the other hand, the jumps were greater the greater the damage he received.

  "Damn system…" he muttered to himself. "So it's different for each type of technique."

  He remembered how with the movement technique he had not noticed such a clear variation in the experience obtained.

  "Well… it's not something that matters too much," he concluded lightly.

  In front of him, Ping was lying on the ground, on his back, searching for air as if he had just survived a real battle. His hands still trembled from the accumulated effort.

  Fang Li watched him for a few seconds before speaking.

  "Good job," he said calmly. "You have potential to hit better than you think."

  Ping took a few seconds to get up. He supported himself on the ground with both hands and managed to stand with evident effort, still breathing with difficulty. Despite the exhaustion, his expression was one of absolute gratitude.

  "Thank you, Senior Brother Fang," he said with sincere seriousness. "I will do my best to live up to it."

  He did not seem to fully understand the meaning of the praise, but he accepted it as if it were a sacred order.

  "And now what do we do, Brother Fang?"

  Fang Li looked at him with slight surprise. He had not expected him to want to continue.

  "For now we're done here," he replied naturally. "You can go to your place. After all, I have to prepare for tomorrow's competition and put on a good show."

  He said it with a broad, confident smile, as if the outcome had already been decided in advance.

  Ping finished standing completely, bowed slightly in respect and spoke with renewed energy.

  "I wish you success, Senior Brother Fang!"

  Then he ran off toward the outer courtyards, probably ready to tell half the world that he had participated in a "sacred training."

  Fang Li watched him leave until he disappeared into the outer courtyard. Then, unhurried, he headed toward his cabin.

  Night had fully fallen when Fang Li closed the door. An oil lamp dimly illuminated the interior, casting soft shadows on the wooden walls.

  For a moment he stood in front of the small basin of water, observing the reflection on the surface.

  The body he saw had nothing to do with his own on Earth.

  The muscles were well defined and compact without being exaggerated. The body refinement had hardened not only his organs, but also his external structure. Marked abs, firm shoulders, stable posture. He had never imagined having that kind of physique.

  He lightly ran a hand over his abdomen.

  "Not bad…" he muttered.

  Then he raised his gaze and spoke into the air, as had become customary.

  "System, how many points do I need for you to take my level to the Spiritual Realm?"

  The response was immediate.

  "30,000 Beating Points are required to advance to the next realm, host."

  Fang Li froze.

  "Shit!" he exclaimed without hiding it.

  He knew it would be more expensive. A realm leap always implied a greater investment, but that figure was on another level. Even with his recent accumulations, he was far from that goal.

  He snorted and put his robe back over his shoulders.

  "As always… everything that comes from the system is a scam."

  He dropped onto the bed with his arms behind his head and stared at the wooden ceiling. Thirty thousand points were not impossible.

  "Well… whatever," he finally muttered. "I guess I'm poor and have no choice but to save points."

  There were no obvious shortcuts for now. If he wanted to advance to the Spiritual Realm, he would have to accumulate patiently or find more lucrative opportunities.

  He turned onto his side and closed his eyes. The exhaustion of the entire day began to truly weigh on him. His breathing became slower and deeper.

  Little by little, the distant noise of the outer courtyards faded away.

  As he fell into a deep sleep, a faint smile appeared on his face. Tomorrow would be the tournament.

  And, more than nerves, what he felt was anticipation.

  Without a doubt, it would be an interesting day.