Time passed swiftly, the summer heat pressing in from all sides. The air conditioning hummed quietly, offering a cool refuge from the relentless warmth that filled the world outside.
June slipped away like flowing water, gradually fading as a fresh July arrived, bringing with it the deep pulse of midsummer.
The birds that once filled the air with their cheerful chirping had vanished, leaving only the ever-present cicadas. Their loud, unceasing song echoed the fullness of summer, mingling with the cool hum of the air conditioner within the house.
July 2nd. Inside the Han family home, Andrew Han sat cross-legged, his body still marked with fading bruises from recent training. He quietly circulated his qi and blood to heal, feeling the lingering ache from his Master's rigorous regime.
Lucy Han stood barefoot on the bed, her big, watery eyes fixed on her brother. She tugged at Andrew's sleeve and said in a clear, earnest voice, "Brother, it's so hot. Can't you make it cooler in here?"
"No," Andrew replied, his tone gentle but firm. Martial training was harsh, and even small comforts could lead to complacency. He had learned this lesson well from his Master.
Andrew Han refused with a sense of justice. "I've tried to be understanding lately, but it's only made you more spoiled," he thought, recalling his Master's strict discipline.
The temperature in the bedroom was already quite low. If he lowered the air conditioning any further, Lucy might catch a cold. Andrew's recent progress owed much to Master Miles Ning's relentless training, and he couldn't afford setbacks now.
Lucy hung her head, cheeks puffed up in frustration. "Hot... so hot," she grumbled, unwilling to accept her brother's answer.
"Be good, Lucy. If you calm your mind, you'll feel cooler," Andrew said, gently rubbing her fair cheeks. "Do you know what it means to be calm? It means don't run or jump around so much. If you keep bouncing, it's no wonder you're hot!" He couldn't help but think that having a tough little sister was almost like having a resilient disciple—perfect for venting his frustrations.
"Hot..."
Lucy blinked, her big eyes brimming with aggrieved stubbornness, refusing to back down. Andrew realized that his Master's influence had gradually shaped him, making him sterner—more like Miles Ning with each passing day.
"I've only managed to gather seven strands of Graywhite Aura lately. It's barely anything—a drop in the bucket, really. Master, the bruises on my left cheek are still there. How can you say you've been considerate?" Andrew complained inwardly, half playfully.
"If I want to break through to Second Rank, to reach the peak of my strength and harmonize my strength with my qi and blood, I’ll need to absorb a vast amount of Graywhite Aura," Andrew thought, determination rising in his chest.
Andrew Han pondered deeply, weighing his options as the heat of summer pressed on.
He still couldn’t figure out where the Graywhite Aura came from. But since this mysterious power belonged to him alone, there was no point in worrying about it. The only right path was to use every means to strengthen himself. Even a reflexive twitch of his shoulder could have sent Lucy flying if he wasn’t careful—such was the progress he’d made under Miles Ning’s training.
Hmm.
Andrew Han extended his right palm, clenching it twice. Each movement made him more aware of the formidable power surging within his body.
What had once been a thousand pounds of strength had now grown to over three thousand pounds—a transformation that even Master Miles Ning would have praised, given Andrew’s tenacious constitution and resilience.
Most importantly, this isn't the weight of a punch—it's not the force generated by technique and acceleration—but the true, pure strength within his body.
In other words.
When Andrew Han throws a punch, it's three thousand pounds of raw force, amplified by technique and the acceleration of the punch, all fused together—truly terrifying.
Thinking this over.
He frowned, recalling that night: "The shadow crouched in the tree was actually Leon Booth, a First Rank martial artist, but he could withstand my punch? Three thousand pounds of force, plus technique amplification—enough to flip a small car."
"First Rank is all about merging strength and qi and blood."
"I guess that's why he could withstand it... But just because he can take three thousand pounds doesn't mean he could survive ten thousand."
Andrew Han narrowed his eyes, a hint of longing appearing.
If he could find enough Graywhite Aura and keep strengthening his body, he might really reach ten thousand pounds of force. Then, if he met someone like Leon Booth again, one punch would be enough to kill.
"Huh?"
"Kill? Why did that thought pop into my head?"
Andrew Han sighed and shook his head... He had to admit, frequent contact in daily life had gradually made him more like Miles Ning.
Bang.
Lucy Han saw her brother lost in thought, looking unhappy, and suddenly jumped at him, struggling to hug Andrew Han's shoulders and shaking him hard: "Hot, hot, hot!"
"Sigh."
Andrew Han exhaled and gently picked up Lucy, walking out of the bedroom.
Fortunately, thanks to Miles Ning's rigorous training, Andrew could control his body well... Otherwise, when Lucy jumped on him, even a reflexive shoulder twitch would have sent the little one flying.
——
In the blink of an eye, it was already July 10th. With summer break, Andrew Han was free from obligations. Before the Academy reopened, only his parents' planned graduation banquet remained.
Aside from that, he could arrange all his time as he wished.
The problem was, finding Graywhite Aura was getting harder and harder. He would have to travel to other cities... Andrew Han was deep in thought.
Boom!!
A withered arm swept in like autumn wind scattering leaves, striking in an instant.
"Master? Again? We just finished this morning!" Andrew Han's expression changed drastically. He couldn't think, and instinctively raised his right arm, blocking with his left fist against the sweeping blow.
Thud, thud.
Even so, Andrew Han was forced back several steps.
Miles Ning's wrinkled old face was shrouded in gloom, his eyes flashing coldly: "You dare lose focus during technique training? These days, I've shown you every consideration, but it's made you complacent."
"It seems—"
"It's necessary to show you the price of making mistakes!"
As soon as the words fell.
Thud!
Miles Ning's thin body moved like a wild beast awakening, suddenly springing forward. His right foot stomped on the leaf-strewn earth, sending out a ripple.
Andrew Han was shocked at the sight.
"Master, the two bruises on my left cheek are still here. How can you say you've been considerate?" He wanted to cry but held back, focusing his mind, casting aside distractions, and swung his muscles to the right, dodging sideways.
Boom!
Miles Ning punched the tree behind Andrew Han, a faint smile appearing on his old face as he continued to chase Andrew: "Relax, relax, I'm only using First Rank—"
As he spoke.
Miles Ning looked as gentle as ever, but with a single step forward, he crossed seven or eight meters. His withered right arm suddenly lifted, chopping down with a fist.
Whoosh!
The roar of a tiger filled the wind, fierce and awe-inspiring.
Facing this powerful strike, Andrew Han had no time to dodge. But since Miles Ning was only using First Rank strength, Andrew figured he could handle it easily and didn't need to run.
"Furious Rainfall!"
Andrew Han pressed his fists downward, then sprang upward like a coiled spring, as if raindrops from the sky were falling to the earth, reversing their direction and overturning heaven and earth. His qi and blood surged through his body like a torrent of heat.
Master, you take a step back too!
Thud!!
Andrew Han's fists carried the essence of technique. Just as he was about to relax, feeling joy and excitement, he sensed Miles Ning's arm crashing down like a giant pillar, leaving no room for resistance.
Crack!
Andrew Han's fists shattered like fragile plastic, scattering to both sides.
It was as if he was cheering upward, welcoming the warm morning sun... only to be drenched by a sudden downpour.
Thump.
Andrew Han's expression changed—he couldn't withstand the residual force and was slammed to the ground.
He quickly rolled to the left, barely dodging Miles Ning's slipper stomp, and couldn't help but shout, "Master, First Rank! This isn't First Rank!"
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"Of course not."
"I meant First Rank speed, but I just forgot."
Miles Ning spoke clearly, without any sign of breathlessness. His movements didn't stop; his right leg kicked out from the leaves, sending them flying and making Andrew Han's face change.
Hiss.
Andrew Han took a breath, adjusted his mindset and qi and blood, and retreated swiftly to the rear.
Miles Ning stepped forward casually, but with incredible speed, keeping close to Andrew. His left arm swung back, then whipped around in a half-circle, striking Andrew's right side.
"Block it!"
Andrew Han took a breath, adjusted his qi and blood and strength, then unleashed it all at once. His right leg tensed, lifted, and blocked, while his right arm pushed up to defend against Miles Ning's strike.
Crack!
The crisp sound of impact echoed through the woods.
His right leg trembled and dropped to the ground, his right arm shook and flung to the side. Andrew Han felt half his body go numb, unable to muster any strength.
It was like a massive cauldron shaking, on the verge of collapse.
"Good disciple."
Miles Ning took a step forward, his expression kindly like a friendly old man, but his withered right hand grabbed Andrew Han's neck like an eagle snatching a chick.
Andrew Han hurriedly said, "No! Wait, wait—"
Boom!
Miles Ning lifted Andrew Han up and slammed him down, taking a deep, contented breath, his face relaxed and at ease.
Boom, boom, boom!
Miles Ning continued to slam Andrew Han a dozen more times, then casually flung him aside. His wrinkled old face looked satisfied: "Finally comfortable, the air is fresher, and the sunlight is even brighter."
On the other side.
"Cough, cough."
Andrew Han clutched his chest, slumped against a tree, and coughed: "Master, are you venting your emotions or training me?"
"Oh, you're right. I did get a bit carried away," Miles Ning frowned, seeming to reflect. After a long pause, he turned to Andrew Han: "Since you asked, training officially begins!"
Whoosh!
Miles Ning's right fist shot out like a dragon emerging from the sea, blasting toward Andrew Han.
......
Night fell.
It was the height of summer, and the stifling heat swept across the land. Only rooms equipped with air conditioning retained a trace of coolness.
Bzzz.
The air conditioner hummed steadily, refusing to rest.
Andrew Han stood on the bedroom floor, gritting his teeth as he moved his limbs, using the flow of his blood and Qi to ease the bruising. But the three bruises on his left cheek were strikingly obvious and wouldn't fade anytime soon.
"Brutal."
"This kind of training is just too brutal. The results are impressive... but no one could endure this much punishment. If it were an ordinary Second Rank martial artist, their bones would be shattered."
Andrew was speechless, yet he found joy in the challenge.
His master, Miles Ning, had imposed the harshest training, pushing him relentlessly to his limits... Every day, Andrew could sense his rapid progress.
It wasn't just physical strength.
Flexibility, resilience, endurance, willpower, ability to withstand pressure, reflexes—even his temperament had grown immensely.
Crack, crack.
A confident smile appeared at the corner of Andrew's mouth as he clenched his fists.
Before this, he had brute strength but no idea how to use it. After all this tempering, he now understood power intimately—his punches and kicks were precise and refined.
It was as if a powerful engine had finally been fitted with high-quality tires, ready to race ahead.
......
At the same time—
Inside a cottage by the banks of the Yuntong River.
Hiss.
A cigarette glowed and dimmed in the hand of an old man with a wrinkled face—Miles Ning.
"Interesting. That kid Andrew Han has such a strong constitution... He's agile, recovers quickly, and his resilience is unbelievable. It's beyond theoretical limits, like a machine that never stops."
"Luckily, I decided to toughen him up recently—otherwise, if Andrew ran into some demon or monster, he might get killed by accident."
"Otherwise, I never would have noticed these peculiarities."
Miles Ning muttered softly, his tone filled with emotion.
Even a First Rank martial artist couldn't withstand such a beating, yet Andrew endured it—and kept getting stronger, adapting more each day.
It made no sense. Miles Ning was both baffled and secretly delighted.
As long as Andrew could take it, he would keep ramping up the intensity, determined to draw out Andrew's true potential... No, not just draw it out—refine it.
Hiss.
Miles Ning took a deep drag on his cigarette, burning it halfway down in an instant. Ash drifted down like gray dust.
"Still—"
"Having a disciple like him isn't bad. He can take a beating. At least when I'm in a bad mood, I can rough him up a bit—and not worry about breaking him."