Chapter 28: Mastery

Myron picked up the meal box and stuffed a piece of fortified meat into his mouth.
“David, why isn’t this Level One fortified meat? The larvae meat just isn’t effective enough!” he complained to David as he chewed.
“Myron, you could’ve brought your own Level One meat. Don’t eat my share and then complain about it!” David replied, clearly annoyed.
“You’re right. I’ll ask my family to send some Level One fortified meat right away!” Myron’s eyes lit up as he spoke with a grin.
David shook his head. He could tell that Myron was using this as an excuse to send over better meat without making David lose face.
In truth, with David’s current wealth, buying some Level One fortified meat for his cultivation wasn’t a problem at all—if not for the risk of exposure. But since Myron had proactively offered, it could count as his tuition for tagging along.
For someone like Myron, son of a high-ranking official and wealthy family, this was hardly a sacrifice.
“David, it’s your turn!” Garen said with a smile, waiting for the two to finish their conversation before addressing David.
“Yes, Uncle Garen!” David nodded in response.
His heart was already burning with anticipation for Garen's guidance.
He stepped to the center of the gym, stood tall, and began to exert himself. A faint heat radiated from his body.
Myron didn’t notice anything unusual, but Garen’s eyes lit up; he stared at David with unwavering focus.
Ninety-nine percent proficiency in the Eighteen Forms of Entry-Level Physical Technique—a level unattainable for anyone but a true Warrior. For someone to reach the Skilled level in physical technique before even becoming a Warrior was the mark of a true prodigy.
Garen never expected to encounter a youth on the brink of breaking through the Eighteen Forms right here in a small place like Peran City—and that this youth was his friend’s own child.
“Damn it, Hans, how blind can you be? Such a talent, and yet for lack of resources, his strength is only six hundred kilos. If he had the right support, he would have become a Warrior long ago!” Garen muttered as he watched David practice, barely into the first form.
The reason for Garen’s frustration was clear: the Eighteen Forms are foundational, and each improvement in the forms brings a corresponding increase in physical power.
From Garen’s perspective, David’s situation was the result of insufficient resources; forced to repeatedly practice the forms, he had advanced his technique beyond the pace of his physical growth.
Most people, on the other hand, stagnated because their physical technique couldn’t keep up, leaving their bodies brimming with untapped energy and unable to improve further.
Myron was a textbook case: despite plentiful resources, he’d been stuck for ages because his technique couldn’t advance.

David continued practicing the Eighteen Forms, each movement slow and steady, every action sending waves of heat through his body—proof of the extraordinary demand he placed on his system. Each form cost him nearly twice the effort it would take Myron.
Sweat poured from him in rivulets; his stamina was draining rapidly.
By the tenth form, his movements had slowed even further.
In a blur, Garen appeared by David’s side, so fast that Myron thought he’d seen a ghost.
David still had energy to spare, but to maintain perfect coordination between muscle and bone, he had to slow down, which in turn made the technique even more difficult.
The eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth forms passed. On the fourteenth—the limit of what David had previously achieved—his body began to tremble, on the verge of failure.
At that moment, Garen placed a hand on David’s back. When David felt his muscles and bones going out of sync, the touch stabilized him, letting him regain control.
He completed the fourteenth form successfully, and, almost instinctively, continued into the fifteenth.
A strange look crossed Garen’s face. He had assumed the fourteenth form was David’s limit, but clearly, it wasn’t—David pressed on into the fifteenth.
Again, as soon as his coordination faltered, Garen intervened, a steady hand correcting each point of failure, enabling David to continue.
The sixteenth, seventeenth, and finally the eighteenth forms—at last, after ten well-timed assists from Garen, David completed the entire sequence.
The moment he finished, sweat steamed off his body as if he had just emerged from a sauna.
With a wave of his hand, Garen generated a suction force that drew a meal box from the floor into his grasp.
“David, eat this—quickly!” he said, opening the box and handing it to him.
David felt utterly empty, as if he could devour an entire ox.
Ignoring the portion size, he stuffed the fortified meat in his mouth with abandon.
His immense strength made short work of the meat; after only a few chews, he swallowed it down.
Waves of heat spread from his stomach, replenishing his depleted body.
Never had the fortified meat tasted so delicious, yet in the blink of an eye, he’d finished everything in the box.

“You really can eat!” Myron muttered, handing over the box with the nine remaining portions he hadn’t eaten himself.
David was startled by his own appetite. He remembered that each box contained ten pieces of fortified meat—recently, even with his increased consumption, he had never managed more than three at once.
But now, his body still clamored for more, so he accepted the box without hesitation and kept eating.
Within two minutes, he had devoured all the meat. Only then did he feel a deep sense of satisfaction as wave after wave of heat surged through his body, filling him with comfort and strength.
“David, rest for a moment—then show me the Eighteen Forms again,” Garen said, an even stranger look in his eyes.
“Uncle Garen, maybe we should wait until the Level One meat arrives?” Myron suggested, staring at the two empty boxes.
“It’s fine. David has just achieved a breakthrough—this is a bodily advancement brought on by mastering the technique,” Garen waved off his concern.
With nineteen portions of fortified meat in his stomach and enough time to digest, David’s weakness had vanished, replaced by a surging power that made him feel on the verge of eruption.
So when Garen asked him to perform the forms again, he didn’t even need to rest; he stood up and began anew.
This time, everything felt different. From the very first form, he moved with ease and fluidity. Where before he’d had to consciously control every muscle and bone, now his entire body moved as one, instinctively driving the sequence forward.
Myron, watching from the side, stared wide-eyed. He hadn’t quite understood what he was seeing the first time, but now it was clear what this meant.
There was a vast gulf between entry-level and skilled-level technique—a gulf dividing ordinary people from true Warriors. Only those with a thousand kilograms of strength, and triple the constitution of a normal person, could reach the skilled level.
He thought back to how he’d boasted about his own entry-level skills—his face burned with embarrassment.
Garen watched David practice, recalling the earlier gift he’d offered: recommending David for admission to Naan University. Now, it seemed laughable.
To reach the skilled level before becoming a Warrior—no matter his other weaknesses—Naan University would make an exception for David.
Such privileges were the minimum due to a true genius. Not just Naan—any university would do everything in their power to recruit someone like him.
David finished the Eighteen Forms, and the heat from the nineteen portions of meat finally subsided. He felt stronger than ever before. If Garen and Myron weren’t present, he would have immediately summoned his Shadow Attendant to check his attribute panel.