The morning sun broke through the clear sky, its light streaming across the land. The sounds of battle rang out from beyond the thin yet ornate walls that separated the Liu Clan’s manor, where their personal guard carried out their daily drills.


    Liu Changfeng was outside the gates after throwing on whatever was the best fit to train in. It was another reminder of how much of a wastrel he was—he didn’t possess a single change of martial clothes!


    In his walk to here, he discovered that his steps were steadier and his sense of balance was more grounded. It also felt like his strength and stamina even improved, but the only way he could tell would be in training. He had once been perfectly aware of everything about his body and its capabilities, but inside his younger self, he couldn’t replicate such a thing yet. He would have to get to know his body over time.


    “Ha!”


    —CLANG!


    “Hup!”


    –FWISH! FWISH!


    Liu Changfeng smiled. It felt good to hear the sounds of training and battle.


    It was in the nature of these ex-soldiers, once handpicked from Liu Dong Tu’s army, to train relentlessly. For when the day came that their swords would need to be drawn, their edges must be as sharp as their resolve.


    This is precisely where Liu Changfeng belonged.


    He pushed open the gates and walked into the training grounds. He blinked. In front of him, around fifty armed men dressed in armor stood.


    Liu Changfeng stood silently, taking in his surroundings. The training ground was modest, its construction hastily put together, as if it had been erected in a forgotten corner. Eight wooden dummies, clad in rudimentary armor, stood side by side, while a humble structure at the back appeared to serve as a storage room for weapons and armor. Despite the presence of fifty soldiers, the facility seemed woefully inadequate.


    As Liu Changfeng pondered, two of the soldiers stepped forward. Both were tall, their black hair neatly cropped, and their gaze sharp with focus. They could’ve been mistaken as brothers.


    Liu Changfeng’s trained eyes assessed the two in an instant: broad shoulders and firm legs spoke of rigorous training. I forgot, but these two… they are at the peak of the Primval Refining Realm, the 9th Star.


    “Third Young Master?” they asked together.


    “Han Zhen. Jiang Yun.” Liu Changfeng nodded to them. “I’ll be joining alongside the manor’s guards for drilling.”


    The two similar-looking guard’s brows furrowed slightly and they looked at each other.


    “Uh…?”


    “You’ll be joining with us—?”


    “I will. I’ll follow as best I can. I’m sure you all know I’m only at the 1st Star of Primeval Refining”


    “I…sure, would you like some armor?”


    Liu Changfeng nodded. Immediately, Han Zhen ran off to the barracks and quickly returned with a set of lacquered lamellar armor.


    “Sorry, Young Master, your presence is so sudden and we only have this old set. Ah, but I could run to the clan’s—”


    “No need, this will do.” Liu Changfeng cut Han Zhen off.


    He retrieved the set from Han Zhen’s hands.


    Before the other Liu Clan’s guards could say anything or try to assist him, he put on the armor with practiced ease, adjusting the necessary straps in the blink of an eye. Deep in his old heart, he felt a strange type of satisfaction, as if he had just done something again after a long time, which wasn’t inaccurate. He turned his attention to the four-or-so other soldiers, who were staring at him while completely mute. One could hear a wind rustle the many trees that lined the walls.


    Liu Changfeng knew what they were surprised about, but this amount of attention wasn’t much to his current self. As the last Grand Marshal, he had been worshipped and admired by millions and feared by just as many.


    After tightening the greaves, Liu Changfeng turned to the duo, who both wore a confused expression on their faces. “How does your training usually go?”


    “We…we start by running a few laps around the training grounds to develop our stamina and leg strength.” Jiang Yun said. “Then we train our martial techniques—be it sword, movement or formation techniques.”


    “Un.” Liu Changfeng nodded. “Lead the way. I’ll follow.”


    Jiang Yun gestured toward the edge of the training grounds, where the perimeter was marked by a low wooden fence. "We usually run twenty laps, but... you can stop whenever you''d like."


    Liu Changfeng''s lips curved into a faint smile, one that neither Han Zhen nor Jiang Yun could quite interpret. "Twenty laps? That will suffice."


    The two guards exchanged wary glances again before leading Liu Changfeng to the starting point. The other soldiers paused their drills, their gazes drawn toward the young master in his lacquered armor. Whispers broke out among them, some curious, others incredulous.


    “Is he really joining the drills?”


    “Won’t he collapse after a lap or two?”


    “I heard the Third Young Master rarely left his study. Why’s he out here now?”


    Liu Changfeng could hear all this of course but his face was expressionless. He’s been the runt countless times. It was only natural that ex-soldiers would have their grievances with the mere sight of the scandalous Third Young Master. Many of them returned loyalty to those who deserved it like his elder siblings, Liu Dong Tu and the other adults, but not Liu Changfeng.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    As they lined up, Jiang Yun called out, “Begin!”


    The soldiers took off at a steady pace, their boots thudding against the dirt. Liu Changfeng followed close behind, his strides measured and deliberate. Despite the weight of the armor and his body’s current limitations, his breathing remained steady. He guided his dantian to align with his steady heartbeat. Primeval Essence surged through his clogged meridians, flooding his body with vitality. Its enhancement would be crucial for keeping pace with the soldiers in his current state.


    I must cleanse my meridians too… Liu Changfeng internally noted.


    By the third lap, the weaker guards began to falter. Liu Changfeng narrowed his eyes beneath his sweltering helmet. Of course, not all of them were soldiers. Some are guards for the sake of being guards.


    Liu Changfeng pressed on, his pace unwavering. His muscles burned, and his feet groaned beneath all the added weight.


    By the eleventh lap, the murmurs had turned to silence.


    Han Zhen and Jiang Yun, who had been running just ahead of him, glanced back repeatedly, their expressions a mix of disbelief and growing respect.


    By the seventeenth lap, Liu Changfeng could feel the strain in his legs and the ache in his lungs. He breathed heavily as he looked at the ground. His lungs burned, and he felt as if his legs were being weighed down by thousands of jin. Heaving, he tried his best not to throw up. He scoffed at his own weakness. Hmph. I can only blame myself…


    By the eighteenth lap, he felt a shift in his ankle. This was his limit for now. It’d be foolish to push it to the absolute brink before martial arts training.


    This body was still young, untrained, and untempered. It was natural for it to give out before his will, especially with how ruthless he was to his bones just yesterday.


    He shuffled to the side and let the others pass before he staggered to a knee.


    Once the many ex-soldiers finished Liu Changfeng stood without complaints. Infantry don’t find the time to rest in battle unless it’s their last.


    “Third Young Master, I don’t recall if you ran regularly.” Han Zhen muttered.


    Liu Changfeng nodded and unfastened the helmet. “I don’t—what’s next?”


    “We divy up for sparring or time to polish our techniques on dummies. It’ll be your choice, Young Master.”


    Liu Changfeng nodded slowly, his fingers brushing his empty side. “May I have a sword? I want to strengthen my balance and body on a dummy.”


    Han Zhen raised an eyebrow, a little surprised, but gave a nod. "As you wish, Young Master." He motioned toward one of the guards standing near the equipment racks. "Fetch a sword for Third Young Master."


    The soldier quickly complied, retrieving a long, sturdy dao sword with a simple hilt, but it was perfectly balanced. Liu Changfeng took the weapon from his hands, feeling the familiar weight in his grasp. Heh. These old hands of mine only fit the General of Weapons.


    The sword was no masterwork, but it would do the job.


    As the other guards carried on their drills, Liu Changfeng found himself before one of the handful of wooden dummies. He gripped the sword with both hands, testing its weight once more, before taking a deep breath.


    He began the basics. A slash to the left, a slash to the right. Step forward, thrust. He moved fluidly, practicing his form with precision, ensuring his body and mind were in harmony. His movements were sharp, deliberate, and effective—how many times has he trained such foundations before?


    Primeval Energy flowed and he weaved his slashes together.


    But this wasn’t all.


    Beneath the routine, beneath the practiced strikes, there was something more. Every so often, when his movements seemed perfectly natural, Liu Changfeng would flick his wrist, his foot shifting slightly off the established rhythm. The moment was subtle, hidden in plain sight, like a whisper beneath the roar of a river.


    When the sword cut through the air, there was a brief tremor in his bones, an almost imperceptible strain that only he could feel. It wasn’t just the strength of his muscles or the force of the blow. No, this was straining something deeper. His bones.


    Every once in a while, he’d incorporate a movement from the True Dragon Bones Art—just one fleeting gesture that would never reveal its true nature to any curious guards watching their Third Young Master train.


    Liu Changfeng’s body trembled from both fatigue and the incredible pressure he placed on his bones.


    It was much slower without any bone-tempering pills, but it was still progressing.


    Liu Changfeng quickly masked the movement, returning to the basics of his form with swift efficiency, just in time for any curious eyes to lose their focus. His breath remained steady, and his posture unwavering, but inside, his bones ached in a way that was foreign to most martial artists. It was a cost he was willing to pay for the strength he sought.


    Another slash, another step forward, another bone-grating movement. It was a quiet battle within his own body—one he kept hidden from prying eyes. He couldn’t let them see. No one could know the secret he was carrying.


    For now, he would blend in with the others, drilling the basics, honing his skills, and strengthening his balance. But underneath it all, the True Dragon Bones Art would continue to strain him, pushing his body to limits others could never imagine.


    —


    “Young Master, we are finished. We’ll leave in time for our duties.” Han Zhen’s voice broke through the steady rhythm of Liu Changfeng’s drills.


    Liu Changfeng paused, returning the dao sword to his side as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He spotted tens of guards already making their way out. His gaze flickered over to Han Zhen, who stood with arms crossed, watching him intently.


    “Do you wish to spar?” Liu Changfeng asked, his voice neutral, masking the exhaustion he felt deep inside. His bones still pulsed from the forbidden movements, but he didn’t want to show any sign of weakness.


    Han Zhen raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “You wish to spar with me, Young Master?”


    Liu Changfeng gave a short nod. “I need to test my limits. See how my body holds up under actual pressure.”


    “Hm…sure. Not me though—here.” Han Zhen pulled Jiang Yun.


    “Huh? Me?”


    “You were better than me at training recruits back then.”


    Jiang Yun scratched his head. “We never trained recruits... anyways, if you’re fine with me, Young Master.”


    Liu Changfeng took a few steps back, walking to the middle of the training ground. He could already feel the gaze of the few guards who stayed to watch.


    “Captain Jiang Yun?”


    “Ack—it’s been a while since I saw either captain train.”


    “Fool, it won’t be training for him. It’s just helping the Young Master.”


    “Speaking of the Young Master…did the General tutor him? I only recall the eldest two sons being skilled in the sword. ”


    “Huh. I thought I was missing something. His basics were…good. No, more than that. Perhaps the General hired a tutor instead without us knowing. You know how rarely he returns to the manor.”


    Liu Changfeng ignored them. He focused on the task at hand.


    Jiang Yun stepped into the center, his stance relaxed, though there was a hint of wariness in his eyes. He was worried about how much strength to exert on the Young Master. Although he and Han Zhen were hand-picked by the Lord to leave the army and remain at the manor, one strike too hard against the Young Master and he’ll be out of a job.


    Liu Changfeng''s grip tightened around the sword and raised it.


    “Uh…Young Master. Please take no offense, but I’ll try not to injure you.” Jiang Yun muttered.


    “No matter. Let’s begin.”


    Liu Changfeng charged. Hopefully you could pick up what I’m trying to teach you, Jiang Yun.