Time moved on. Another two weeks passed almost unnoticed. The days blended into a continuous cycle: training, pain, exhaustion, short rest, and training again. But the results were undeniable. My physical parameters were growing at an abnormal rate. I could feel it in every movement—running became easier, my grip on the sword steadier, and my body recovered faster after each session.
At the same time, I had already formed about half of the ring around my core. It felt strange, as if something solid and complete was gradually taking shape inside me, ready to close at any moment.
And again… several times, I entered that state—trance. The world seemed to fade, thoughts quieted, and only the sensation of energy remained. In those moments, meditation became deeper, faster.
In just a month, I had reached half of the first rank.
And that was exactly what started to bother me.
Why was Viren so weak?
With this kind of growth rate, with this level of talent… it didn't make sense. Even if he was lazy, even if he avoided training, potential doesn't just disappear.
Too many inconsistencies.
I added investigating this to my mental list. Blaming everything on laziness was simply too naive. There had to be something more.
That day went as usual. I woke up, washed, got dressed, and went to breakfast. Over time, I had grown attached to my father. Viren's memories played their part as well.
At some point, I realized I no longer separated myself from him.
I am Viren.
After breakfast came training. Strength training again. Each weight now was five kilograms. I could still feel the load, but not like before. My body had adapted.
I wonder… how strong I'll become once I reach the first rank and can freely control aura.
Today was a sparring day.
And as usual, I got beaten.
Since the first spar, I still hadn't managed to properly land a hit on my father. But it no longer frustrated me the same way. Because I could see my progress.
My parries were sharper. My blocks more stable. My dodges faster.
And most importantly—I had started to feel distance.
It was a subtle sensation, almost instinctive. I couldn't fully control it yet, but it was there.
Tomorrow—swings again.
With that thought, I went to sleep.
Another forty days passed in this rhythm.
One morning, while getting ready for training, I suddenly realized—it was already mid-spring. Time really flew.
Breakfast went as usual. A short exchange, mostly silence. Then training again.
Today's strength training was especially exhausting. My muscles burned, my breathing grew uneven, but I was already used to this state.
After that, I sat down to meditate.
Today, I'll break through.
I didn't think it as a wish, but as a fact.
I focused. Sank inward.
And after half an hour… the ring closed.
At that exact moment, my entire body began to itch. A strong, unpleasant sensation, as if something inside me was being rebuilt. I clenched my teeth.
Impurities. My body was being cleansed.
Half an hour of constant itching felt like eternity. But eventually, it ended.
"You broke through."
I opened my eyes. My father stood in front of me.
He handed me a potion.
"This will help you recover. Drink it. Rest today. Tomorrow you'll start learning how to control aura."
I nodded silently.
And I really did rest.
The next morning started as usual. But the training was different.
"Sit as if you're about to meditate," my father said.
I did as told.
I understood what he was about to do. He was going to show me the aura pathways. Normally, this was dangerous—interfering with someone else's channels. But with enough mastery, the risk was minimal.
My father guided his aura, and I saw them.
Pathways.
Clear, structured, spreading throughout the body.
"Now try it yourself."
Even with that help, it was difficult.
I began to guide my aura slowly. At first, it was unstable, as if it kept slipping away. My concentration broke again and again.
But after an hour, I managed to move it through the main channels.
At an acceptable level.
"Take the sword. Try to coat it with qi."
I picked up the training sword.
And that's when the real problem started.
At first, I simply couldn't maintain focus. The flow of aura collapsed instantly.
After half an hour… I finally succeeded.
And at that exact moment—impact.
Fuck.
Pain shot through my body. My concentration shattered instantly. The coating disappeared.
"This is how you'll train now. An enemy won't hold back."
I didn't argue.
The next hour was hell.
I couldn't achieve anything. My aura was completely drained.
"We continue in two hours."
After eating and resting, I returned.
And after two and a half hours, the best I could do was maintain the coating for three seconds.
This is harder than it was in the novel…
But that was expected. Details like this are usually skipped.
With those thoughts, I fell asleep.
The next morning was no different.
Neither was the training. Everything came down to one thing—holding aura on the sword.
By the end of the day, I reached four seconds.
The next day—six.
My father added another layer: running with weights while maintaining aura over my body.
That was much harder.
After a week, I reached ten seconds.
And the speed of coating improved significantly. What used to take eight seconds now took only three.
The progress was noticeable. But still not enough.
Another week—and I could finally maintain a stable coating.
But only while standing still.
Movement made it much harder.
Surprisingly, it only took me two days to adapt.
When my control became somewhat stable, my father looked at me with his usual cold gaze and said:
"Tomorrow, I'll begin teaching you the family sword style. Be ready."