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When someone attempted the most difficult project in the training ground, the crowd would usually cast disdainful glances their way.
When that person surpassed twenty minutes, nearing the limit most could reach, the onlookers would silently wish for them to collapse from exhaustion any second.
But once this time exceeded an hour, the nature of the spectacle changed. Everyone in the training ground held their breath as they watched Viya, and now they became the group least hoping she would give up.
“Seventy minutes already—keep going!”
“Shut up! Do you even understand how to stay quiet? What if you disrupt her rhythm?”
Someone got overly excited and cheered loudly but was immediately silenced by a stern glare from the muscular upperclassmen nearby.
An unspoken understanding formed among the crowd. Everyone instinctively lowered their voices. A training ground that could comfortably fit over a hundred people now tolerated no noise whatsoever.
---
Two hours passed.
Still, vertical slashes, horizontal cuts, upward thrusts, spinning strikes, and diagonal slashes—the same five movements repeated endlessly.
The professors probably never imagined that their painstakingly prepared lessons and efforts to make classes engaging couldn’t tame these energetic students, yet a single freshman accomplished it with just five simple actions.
“Ah—ouch!”
A student tried imitating Viya’s movements but ended up twisting their ankle, collapsing to the ground. The surrounding gazes only made them feel more awkward.
But this incident reminded others to quietly discuss the practicality of that swordsmanship style.
People always seek balance. Before, they might have dismissed the technique as flashy and meaningless, but seeing someone perform it for an hour made them think there must be profound secrets hidden within.
It couldn’t just be brute strength, right?
---
Three hours passed.
The spectators had grown somewhat numb, yet the freshman in the center of the training ground continued tirelessly repeating those five movements.
At some point, someone revealed the identity of the freshman: one of only two students admitted after passing the initial exam this year. This revelation drew another wave of curious onlookers.
Some individuals with sharp business instincts had already pulled out expensive recording devices, preparing to capture Viya’s movements and sell them at a high price.
---
Six hours passed.
New faces came and went, and most students left after their interest waned. Only those who had been training in the facility remained, watching silently.
Their conversations shifted over time—from initially analyzing every detail of the blonde freshman’s movements to realizing they couldn’t decipher anything, leading to frustrated sighs.
Eventually, their discussions turned to whether the freshman before them was even human.
“It’s hard to say, but I don’t think she’s human.”
“But she doesn’t have tails or pointed ears, does she?”
“What if those traits are recessive genes?”
“Recessive genes?! You need to apologize to Professor Freda right now and retake Volume Three of Genetic Inheritance in Extraordinary Beings!”
Most students were joking about the surreal situation.
“Senior Helena, what do you think?” A newly joined member of the swordsmanship club asked curiously.
What do I think? That phrasing sounds oddly familiar… Helena hesitated for a moment before replying:
“She probably is.”
She wasn’t sure.
As the highest-ranked Ascender present, Helena understood how absurd the freshman’s performance truly was.
The adjacent instrument consistently displayed a deviation value above 95%.
What did that mean?
It meant that, for six straight hours, the freshman’s speed, force, and angle of each swing hadn’t changed even slightly.
This level of consistency made Helena feel the earlier comments were too mild.
She wasn’t human at all!
“That’s not what I’m asking.” The junior looked confused. “I just wanted to know if her swordsmanship is really as incredible as the seniors discussed.”
“If I practice hard enough, can I achieve what she did?”
Admittedly, Viya’s basic attacks were highly entertaining, stirring ambition in some hormone-driven juniors eager to impress their crushes.
“…” Helena didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to say such things couldn’t be practiced into existence.
“Yes, if you work hard enough.”
She nodded.
What constitutes “hard enough”? I wouldn’t know… Helena thought silently.
---
Reality.
“Beep—16 credits received.”
The cold mechanical announcement sounded from the counter. Lin Qi wiped his mouth with a tissue he carried and left the noodle shop.
“Sigh, ever since online payments became the norm, shops have gotten so impersonal—not even a ‘welcome back next time.’”
Walking down the street, Lin Qi shivered as a chilly breeze hit him and quickened his pace.
Back in his room, the monitor glowed alone, making one wonder if it had already burned itself out.
“Total damage over a million, still climbing. I won’t see the cap anytime soon—the character’s damage output is still too low.”
Lin Qi wasn’t disappointed; it had only been a whim to test things out.
He restarted the computer and loaded his most recent save file.
---
Mr. Yog, when will this end… Viya continued her swinging motions while praying silently in her heart.
For several hours, she hadn’t heard that indifferent, murmuring voice in her ear, leaving an unsettling silence.
Viya couldn’t help but worry that the deity had forgotten her.
After all, He was busy beyond measure. It was entirely possible He’d encountered something joyful and left her—a mere speck—in the corner.
Fortunately, as a vessel, she didn’t tire. Otherwise, she would’ve collapsed long ago under such intense exertion.
“I’m back.”
The calm voice echoed in her ear, startling Viya momentarily. Once she processed it, the anxiety weighing heavily on her heart eased.
You’re finally back… I thought I’d be stuck here until who knows when… If hearts could express emotions, Viya felt certain hers would be brimming with tears of relief.
“It’s about time to explore other areas.”
Viya had already raised her sword high, but the moment that voice spoke, the familiar abrupt sensation surged through her body. The downward strike of her wooden sword was forcibly retracted mid-motion.
After completing this physics-defying maneuver, she calmly placed the wooden sword back in its original position.
Then she turned and walked toward the exit.
“…”
The sudden change left the onlookers stunned, standing motionless like clueless five-year-olds, simply watching Viya leave.
“She… just left like that?”
Coming to her senses, Helena muttered under her breath.
There was no sign of fatigue or exertion in her movements.
Not a single pant, not a drop of sweat!
And then—she left as casually as if taking a leisurely stroll?!
“Are we just going to let her walk away? We’ve been standing here for hours! President, how…”
The junior beside her began timidly, her familiar phrasing almost slipping out.
“I don’t know!”
Helena shook her head reflexively.
Against her conscience, she added:
“She’s a freshman. There’ll be plenty of chances to interact later. Besides, she’s probably tired—let her rest.”
With that, Helena walked toward the changing room, intending to change clothes. After a few steps, noticing no accompanying footsteps, she turned around to find the junior squatting motionlessly where she stood.
“What’s wrong with you?”
The junior gave an embarrassed smile, scratching her head.
“My legs fell asleep.”
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